CARLA "Hurry up, Carla!" My impatient roommates yelled from the bedroom. "Coming!" I yelled back from the bathroom. I was almost late for my first class. Just ten minutes more and I would be late. I slept past my usual time, so I had little time to prepare for school. I had already dressed up when I felt the wetness dropping into my panties, and then the slight ache in my lower abdomen was all the signs I needed that it was that time of the month. How did I forget? I'd been so busy with school and work that I didn't remember to buy some tampons. Borrowing wasn't my forte, but I had to, and thank Goddess, my roommates were kind enough to give me a couple of pads. But I needed painkillers, too, for the pending vicious cramps. They didn't have any. Now, I am scared of going to school. The pain was already brewing. It might worsen in school, and I wouldn't know what to do. I thought of skipping school today, but even that scared me the most. I had important classes, p
DAWSON I've been in this school for a couple of years and this was my first time being admitted to the infirmary. After Smith punched me so hard and I suffered a fall, I was rushed down here. There was a splitting, excruciating pain around my gut that wouldn't let me walk. I was literally carried down here, by the guys. I groaned in pain all the way. Recalling how pathetic I was a few minutes ago back in that parking lot had me boiling down to bits in rage. Smith just went off the deep end in this fucking fight we have. He's gone all out. And he better pray that I didn't sustain any major injuries, or his ass is going to pay for it. I swear to God, I'm never letting him off. Never. "Dude!" Nick walked into the cubicle. Behind him were Michael and Liam. They stopped at the edge of my bed, giving me fucking, pitiful stares. I tried sitting up, but "Fuck!" I hit my back on the bed, groaning and squirming from the mad pain. God, what happened to me? It was too early to as
CARLAI stepped into the hall and took a seat in the middle row. Placing my books on the desk, I glanced around the half-filled hall. It was a habit now. First, I sit. And then I check if he's here. If he isn't, then I keep glancing at the door, anticipating his mind-seizing entry.I already looked around before I stopped myself, recalling that there was no chance for him to be in here. He was at the infirmary. My eyes were fixed on my feet as tears welled in them. I've been spilling those tears ever since he got carried away from my sight.Watching him hit the ground so hard and groaning in pain felt like a wicked stab to my heart. Watching them carry him away felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest. The unexplainable pain created a sad chaos inside me.I had to run off to the restroom to bawl my eyes out. It didn't make sense that seeing him get hurt would make me feel so sad. But then, I wasn't just sad. I was broken. There was this low-key, innate kinda anger that
SMITHIt's bad enough that I started the day making a mess with Dawson. Worse, I got a week of detention and I now have a taint in my incredible school record.Even worse now, I've got the whole school thinking of me as an assailant and psycho out to kill Dawson Walcott.Even more painful that Carla was also judging me for my brutality against Dawson. She might not say it. But I could feel it. And she had every right to judge me.I was wrong. I know that. Giving him a fractured rib was a bit too far. But help me, goddess, it's just so fucking hard to see her giving me those judgy stares and making me feel like shit. It hurts to see her worried about that jerk. Overlooking the fact that I did what I did for her. Because I love her. If only I could make her understand that. But I can't. So I'm stuck. This whole rambling narrows down to the fact that I've had a crappy day since I drove into the parking lot today. I was looking to end it on a nicer note, with the soccer practice and Ca
CARLAWaking up to Smith's low and husky conversation with Brian felt like the most natural sound to wake up to. Except, I don't recall taking a nap. So why do I feel so woozy?I opened my eyes to a plain white ceiling decor. Turning my head to the side, I realized it wasn't just Smith and Brian. There were two more of them and they weren't wearing the soccer practice outfit anymore. They all changed back to their normal wear.What happened? Did the practice end already? Why don't I recall any of it happening? And again, where am I?Brian was laughing at something Smith said, but then his gaze found me and he grinned. "The princess is finally awake."Smith turned sharply and hurried to me. "Fuck, Carla. You gave us quite a scare. Are you alright?" He rubbed his warm hand on my forehead. "I feel fine. Where am I?" Even my voice had the grogginess that came with sleeping for so long. What really happened?"You don't remember fainting out in the field?" Smith started."And Smith bring
DAWSON "Was that really Carla Jason back there in that hallway?" Rick Taylor asked with a heavy tinge of excitement. I ignored him, choosing to look out the window instead. With the crazy level of rage piling up inside me, I was an inch away from venting it on someone. Lucky him, he could be that someone if he didn't stop getting on my damn nerves with his questions! Rick Taylor was the worst choice of guy to be around right now, that I was in a snit. He was too innocent and clueless and might just tick me off without knowing. And if I did lash out, then I would feel guilty about it all my life, because he didn't deserve it, logically. He shouldn't be next to me right now but I was down to my last option. I needed to leave that stuffy infirmary and I needed a ride for that. I already argued with the guys so I couldn't get them to take me. There was no one else to do it. Except him. So I had to call him to come over and bring a few clothes that I could change into. I hadn't
CARLA I arrived late at work and I was almost scolded by my boss. Brian had to step in for me and tell him about the incident that happened in school. It was enough to get me off his scolding list and then he put me to work behind the counter. It's been hard to smile at the customers with how heavy and gloomy I was feeling. Still, I tried to let out faint smiles and picked my words carefully so I wouldn't come off as rude and unreceptive. But in every idle second and minute, I found myself thinking of Dawson. Rewinding that moment in that hallway where he walked right past me like I was some stranger. Being bullied and having my face bashed into the lockers didn't hurt as much as watching him ignore me did. The pain was another level and it was depressing. If I got this affected by his action, then there was no more living in denial or downplaying it. Because it just became clearer that somewhere down the line between hating him and entertaining his naughtiness and cockines
DAWSONIt was the toughest, most torturous, painful, and most disconcerting thirty-minute wait of my life before Rick Taylor finally decided to get his ass out of the café.Wait — I glanced at my watch— make that thirty-one minutes. About damn time! What the fuck was he doing in there? Taking a shit?He got into the car, slamming the door behind him. "Your coffee?" The cup was stretched to my face. I looked at the cup and then at him. "I'll fuck you up if you don't get that shit out of my face."He smiled, retrieved his hand, and began sipping it. Yeah, either he drinks it or he throws it away. I don't care. I wasn't craving coffee. A lot of questions lined up in my head. But I had to ask them more naturally. To avoid getting him suspicious. "I saw Smith go inside the café. Did he say anything to you?" He shrugged, crossing a leg over the other. "He was being a jerk. But I ignored it. Not like I could fight him."Stupid jerk. Why wouldn't he let my people be? The guys. Rick Taylo
DAWSON The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the room, but it did little to ease the cold, heavy knot of dread settling deep in my gut. I stared at my father, his face pale, eyes wide with disbelief and terror. The words he had just spoken to me rang in my ears like a hammer striking metal.“A rogue... a rogue is still out there?”His voice shook, even though he tried to keep it steady. My father, the Elder Alpha, a man who had always been strong, unshakable, was visibly rattled. And for the first time in my life, I felt a knot of fear myself.After Carla described the incident of her attack, concluding that it could have only be done by a rogue. I could feel the weight of the information settling heavily on my chest. It wasn’t just the news of a rogue wolf; it was the possibility that everything we had fought for, everything my father had worked so tirelessly to build and secure, could be undone and also the fact that the rogue decided to attack Carla.“We’ve been over thi
CARLAIt’s strange, being awake like this. For the past week or two, the world had been a blur of beeping machines, sterile white walls, and the faint smell of antiseptic that never quite left my nose. I couldn't place what had happened, not really. It was like the details of the night of the attack were buried under layers of fog, a haze I couldn’t cut through no matter how hard I tried.All I remembered clearly was pain. The sharp sting of claws slashing through my skin, the feeling of blood flowing in thick streams, and then nothing. The darkness had been kind of a relief, to be honest. Not knowing whether I’d survive or not was somehow better than having to live with the memory of it.But now, the haze was lifting. Slowly, very slowly.I blinked, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling, hearing the quiet hum of the machines that monitored my vitals. The room was calm, but there was a tension in the air that I couldn’t shake. It lingered in the background like an invisible presence. I
SMITHThe heavy scent of pine and damp earth clung to me ashoved sted my tie yet again. My fathr’s insistence that w,e visit the pack felt less like a request and more like a command. He framed it as a gesture of goodwill, a chance to offer condolences to strengthen alliances. But for me, this visit wasn’t about politics or optics.The pack’s territory was quieter than I remembered, subdued in a way that set my teeth on edge. Loss hung thick in the air, pressing down on my chest as I stepped out ,of the car. Carla’s absence was a gaping wound, one I couldn’t ignore.My father, ever th composed diplomat, led the way to the Pack house. His strides were purposeful, his demeanor unshaken. I followed, my thoughts tangled and restless. This moment needed precision, the right balance of sincerity and strategy.When the Dawson’s father opened the door, the grief on his face was undeniable. His bloodshot eyes and slumped shoulders spoke volumes, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a
DAWSONThe clock on my dashboard blinked 7:45 p.m., mocking me with every passing minute. Carla was waiting, and I was already fifteen minutes late. p.m. knuckles tightened on the steering wheel as I sped through the winding streets toward the park. Every second felt like a small betrayal. She hated when I was late.I glanced at my phone lying on the passenger seat. No texts or missed calls. Was she annoyed? Probably. But she’d understand. She always did.As I drove through the quiet streets, the thought of Carla kept popping up in my head. Carla had a way of grounding me, of making everything seem less chaotic. The last few weeks had been hard, with my father tightening his grip on every aspect of my life and my friends pulling away. Carla was the one constant. The one person who didn’t expect me to live up to impossible standards or prove myself worthy of a legacy I wasn’t sure I wanted.But I wasn’t blind. I knew her patience wasn’t endless. She had put up with so much already— the
UNKNOWN POVThe warehouse was dark, the air thick with the scent of rust and damp wood. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the distant hum of the city beyond the thick walls. He stood near a stack of old crates, watching the heavy metal door. His eyes narrowed as it creaked open, the sound slicing through the stillness.Joyce walked in, her heels clicking sharply against the cold concrete floor, each step purposeful and precise. There was no hesitation in her movements—everything about her screamed control. Her posture was rigid, the lines of her body taut, and the hard set of her jaw told him she wasn’t here for pleasantries. She wasn’t here to play games.He didn’t speak at first, his gaze locked onto her, studying her every movement. She stopped just inside the door, her eyes meeting his across the dimly lit space.“You’ve got some nerve,” he finally said, his voice calm but edged with a dangerous undercurrent. He didn’t step forward, instead remaining hidden in the shadow
DAWSONCarla’s footsteps echoed in the hallway as she walked away, her shoulders slumped with something heavy. She had made up her mind, I thought, but I could feel the weight in her every movement. There was something she hadn’t said, something still hanging in the air. The way she hesitated just before leaving told me there was more. My heart ached as I realized how close I was to losing her, how much she was still holding back. I couldn’t let her leave like this.I made a quick decision. Without a second thought, I turned, stepping toward the door. “Carla, wait!” I called out, my voice rough, desperate.She froze, but didn’t turn around immediately. “Dawson, I need to go,” she said, her voice small, almost breaking. “Please, just let me be.”I could hear the pain in her tone, and it made my chest tighten. I stepped up behind her, not too close, but close enough to make sure she could feel me. “I know you're scared, Carla,” I said, my voice softer now. “But don’t walk away like this
DAWSON I watched Carla disappear down the hallway, her footsteps echoing down the hallway. My voice rang out, sharp and desperate. “Carla! Stop!” She didn’t. She kept running, her shoulders set and head turned away, as if the sound of my voice only drove her to move faster. My stomach twisted at the sight. She thought—she thought I had something going on with Joyce. The idea was laughable if it wasn’t so devastating. With a low growl of frustration, I shoved Joyce off me, barely noticing her protest. I couldn’t deal with her right now. I could barely think straight as it was. All I knew was that I couldn’t let Carla go, not like this, not with her believing something that wasn’t true. I took off after her, my legs moving on instinct. My chest burned with every step, but the ache in my lungs was nothing compared to the thought of losing her. As I turned the corner, my heart clenched when I saw her crash into Rick Taylor. He steadied her, concern etched in his features as he lo
Dawson“Dawson!” Mother barged into my room, right before I could even sit. “Son, what's going on with you?”“Mother, can you please leave me alone?” I assessed her with an angry gaze. “Go back to your dinner with your insufferable mate. Just let me be.”Her fists clenched and her nails dug into her skin. “You will not speak about your father like that.”“Forgive me, mother. But he doesn't feel like a father to me. He's treating me like he would any servant. Telling me what to do and who to build friendships with. He took my freedom of movement away. Now he's taking control of my feelings. I don't get to decide on anything anymore. He's calling the shots. And what am I supposed to do? Follow his every whim like a fucking puppet?”“Watch your mouth,” Mother silenced my outburst with a slap to my face. Her eyes were fierce. You bet she's gonna do more than slaps if I don't tone it down with my harsh words over her “mate”. I guess I took after her then. We can't stand it when our mates
DAWSON“She did what?” My ears stung at Rick Taylor's words. My fingers dug angrily into the cushion as I waited for him to repeat what I thought I just heard. “Joyce blocked her off in the hallway and said really nasty things to her.” Rick Taylor repeated accurately not missing a word that he'd said earlier. “Good thing I stopped her before she could do more verbal damage. I walked Carla to the middle of the compound and then she left.”My wolf was both furious and sad, and so was I. The urge to bust out of my room, find Joyce, and throttle the fuck out of her was wrestled and overshadowed by the sadness, of knowing Carla must have been hurt. She's so fucking fragile. A big contrast to the wild, bitchy Joyce. “Was…was she okay?” The words tumbled over themselves as they made their way out of my lips. I glanced up at Rick Taylor, after his few seconds of suspenseful silence. His brow twitched and he scratched his temples lightly with a finger. “Honestly, she wasn't,” He said, a