Chapter 8

• Ayla Cross
• The hallway was too quiet, and that never meant anything good. Shadows clung to the lockers, heavy and suffocating, like they were holding their breath just to watch me. I could feel eyes tracking me, sharp and deliberate, though whoever—or whatever—they belonged to pretended to stay hidden. Fine. If it wanted a game, I could play too.
• “Seriously, Jace,” I muttered under my breath. “You and your brother are impossible.” One second, the twins had me pressed against the wall like I was their favorite sin, the next they left me stranded like I was the joke. And, of course, I kept falling for it. Not that I’d ever admit that out loud.
• Something hot whispered past my cheek, and I froze mid-step. My skin prickled. A hand landed on my shoulder, and my heart nearly launched out of my chest.
• “Ayla.”
• I exhaled in relief when I turned and found Mr. Thorn, his gaze sharp as ever. “What are you doing out here alone?”
• “Jace is in the restroom.” I shifted my eyes away, pulse still racing. There was no way I was telling him what Jace and I had actually been doing in there. Mr. Thorn was intimidating enough without me handing him reasons to see me as reckless.
• “Where is he now?” he pressed.
• I shrugged, playing it cool. “Probably still in there. Can we just go?”
• His sigh was heavy, like he already regretted stumbling into this mess. Still, his hand closed around my wrist, tugging me along. “The halls aren’t safe for you.”
• As if they ever were. Even without the supernatural threats, high school was already a battlefield. And lucky me—I was always center stage, the unwilling star of every rumor and every disaster.
• Mr. Thorn pushed me back into the classroom, where Brooke and Zane lingered. My damp shirt clung uncomfortably, but I didn’t care about Brooke’s narrowed glare. What surprised me was Lyric quietly slipping her scarf from around her neck and draping it over my shoulders.
• That small act of kindness hit harder than I expected.
• Flashback
• “You should wear this.” My father’s voice had been soft the night he wrapped his coat around me. I remember watching his trembling hands, wondering why Marley—my mother—had really left someone so gentle.
• “Why did Mom go?” I’d asked, even though the question was a blade I knew might cut him.
• I braced for anger. For bitterness. Instead, he gave me a lopsided smile, eyes tired but still kind. “We grew apart.”
• “But… she’ll come back, right?” My voice cracked with something childish and desperate.
• The smile slipped away. “When you’re older, you’ll understand.” He ruffled my hair with wet hands, and I groaned, pretending it didn’t comfort me.
• That night I buried myself in his coat and convinced myself Mom would walk back through the door.
• Present
• Now I knew better. He hadn’t promised she’d return—just left me to read between the lines. But weeks ago, Marley had returned. Not for him. For me. She dragged me straight into the Storm mansion, where every day was suffocating, and the only sanctuary I had left was the cottage Dad had given me.
• I hated him for leaving me in her hands. For making me answer to the Alpha.
• I’d learned the hard way not to cross the wrong line. Once, I’d eaten something that wrecked my stomach and, panicked, stumbled into what I thought was a bathroom. Turned out it was Jace’s room.
• The moment he walked in, the stench gave me away. His glare could’ve split stone. “What the hell—”
• Before I could escape, Zane appeared in the doorway, dressed like he was about to ruin someone else’s night. His smirk was merciless.
• I froze, still perched on the toilet like an idiot caught red-handed. My face burned as both of them stared, no shame in their eyes, no mercy either.
• Jace pinched his nose. “Unbelievable, Cross. You’re seriously testing my patience.”
• My only defense was sarcasm, even in humiliation. “Maybe if someone actually gave me a tour of this cursed house, I wouldn’t have ended up here. You’re the ones invading my space.”
• Zane laughed outright, the sound cruel and entertained. “You’ve got nerve, I’ll give you that.”
• Before the ground could swallow me, Marley stormed in, wearing that sickly sweet smile she saved for the twins. “Is she bothering you?” Her eyes sliced toward me, cold as a blade.
• Of course. The smile wasn’t for me—it was for Jace.
• Her expression turned sharp when she realized what was happening. “Ayla! What are you doing in here?”
• “Take a wild guess.” My tone was acid. “Your dinner didn’t exactly sit well.”
• Zane doubled over with laughter, while Marley’s face twisted in outrage.
• “You will not disrespect me in this house!” she snapped.
• I shot her a glare. “Funny, because the smell only got worse the moment you walked in.”
• Her gasp was sharp enough to cut glass, but I didn’t care. If humiliation was the currency here, then fine—I’d spend it until it bankrupted us all.
• Marley stormed out, huffing. Jace muttered something about giving me ten minutes before I was exiled from his room, and Zane’s laughter echoed until tears pricked his eyes.
• Somehow, despite the misery, I knew I’d never forget that day. The chaos, the humiliation, the twisted amusement—it was the kind of moment that clung to me, proof that in this house, survival meant laughing at your own downfall.
• Later, lying beside Lyric in the dorms, she asked why I was grinning to myself. I didn’t answer. Some memories were mine alone—too humiliating to share, too absurd to explain.