Chapter 3 Ambushed

Ophelia's POV

I didn't even make it back to my locker before my phone started buzzing again. Every notification was another screenshot of that cliff video. Another comment calling me pathetic. Another tag dragging Damon's name next to mine like I was some obsessed omega who couldn't handle rejection.

I needed proof. Fast.

---

The library basement smelled like paper and coffee, the air thick and stale in a way that clung to the back of my throat. The air was cold against my skin, raising goosebumps along my arms. The lights kept flickering like they were ready to give up, buzzing faintly with each stutter. Marcus Webb sat in his usual corner, hoodie up, staring at three cracked monitors, the glow of the screens washing his face pale blue.

He didn't look at me when I stopped in front of his desk.

"I'm busy," he said, not glancing up. "Whatever you want, I don't have it."

I stayed standing. My fingers gripped the edge of his table, knuckles whitening. "Clara Voss got your old account taken down last semester. You lost everything. And you're still protecting her?"

He finally looked up. His eyes were red from lack of sleep, ringed with dark circles.

"Protecting her?" He let out a short humorless laugh. "I'm protecting myself, Ashford. This gossip account is the only thing that makes me matter in this school. You think they let wolf-less kids like us keep anything? One wrong move and I'm done. Just like you're about to be."

"So that's it?" My voice came out sharp, cutting through the hum of the computers. "You'll just let her get away with it because you're scared?"

"Everyone's scared here," he said, meeting my eyes for the first time. "You're the only one dumb enough to keep fighting."

"Maybe somebody has to be," I said.

I took a breath. "She stole my mother's locket. Threw it off Blackthorn Cliff so everyone would think I jumped. If I don't find proof by Friday, I'm expelled. And if I'm gone, who's going to keep looking into what really happened to my mom? She was the healer who helped everyone here. You know that."

Marcus looked away, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Your mom…” he muttered. “She patched me up after the rogues attacked my family. Never charged us. Never treated me like I was worthless.”

He stared at the monitor for a long moment, his jaw tight. Then he let out a slow breath and turned one of the monitors toward me, the chair creaking under him.

"Sit. Don't touch anything. And if this comes back on me, I'm telling everyone you hacked my stuff yourself."

"Fine," I muttered.

We worked in silence. The only sounds were the old computers humming and the pipes creaking above us, water dripping somewhere far off in the dark. My eyes stung from staring at the screen, dry and burning. Then I saw it.

"Marcus," I whispered, leaning in so fast my chair scraped the floor. "Look."

He leaned in too, close enough that I could hear him breathing. The log showed someone used Veronica Hale's login to enter the omega dorm wing at 4:17 a.m. In the morning my locket was stolen. Veronica didn't even live in that building.

Marcus let out a low whistle. "That's..nothing."

"That's everything," I breathed, my heart starting to race, hope flickering hot in my chest for the first time in days.

Before I could say anything else, the speakers crackled loudly above us. A burst of noise filled the room before a voice cut through.

"Ophelia Ashford, report to the main office immediately."

My stomach dropped, cold flooding through my veins.

Marcus looked at me, already reaching for the keyboard. "Go. I'll save this. Text me when you're done."

I ran.

---

The main hallway lights felt too bright after the basement, stinging my eyes. My shoes squeaked on the floor, echoing loudly in the empty corridor. When I turned the corner, I saw them waiting.

Headmistress Crane stood with her arms crossed. Next to her was a tall man in an expensive dark suit. Vincent Voss. Clara's father. Clara stood right beside him, arms folded, looking pleased with herself, a small satisfied smile tugging at her mouth.

"Miss Ashford," Crane said, voice clipped. "Mr. Voss wants to speak with you."

Vincent stepped forward. His cologne hit me hard sharp and cold, like leather and money, expensive enough to make my nose sting. His eyes were cold as Clara's, and they moved over me like I was something inconvenient he needed to deal with quickly.

"You've been spreading serious lies about my daughter," he said, voice calm and hard, each word measured and controlled. "I don't like my family's name being dragged through the mud by a scholarship student with attention problems."

My throat felt tight, but I didn't look away. "I'm not lying."

"Careful," he said, tone not shifting at all.

"She stole my mother's locket," I said anyway, voice steadier than I felt. "And threw it off the cliff so everyone would think I tried to kill myself."

Clara made a disgusted sound, rolling her eyes. "She's lying again, Daddy. Just like she lied about the bond with Damon. She's obsessed with him."

"I have proof," I said, turning to her directly. "A login. Your friend's account, used at four in the morning, in a dorm she doesn't even live in. Explain that."

Clara's face flickered, just for a second, before smoothing back over. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Vincent didn't even look at her. His eyes stayed on me, unblinking.

"Here's what's going to happen," he said. "You're going to tell Headmistress Crane you made a mistake. That you were emotional. That you never saw Clara near your locker. If you do that, I'll make sure the board doesn't push for your expulsion. I'll even get this whole cliff story buried. You get to stay in school. Everyone wins."

"Everyone wins except me," I said. "I'd be calling myself a liar for something that actually happened."

"That's the deal," he said, unmoved.

My hands started shaking, a fine tremor running from my fingertips up into my wrists. The locket felt hot against my skin, like it was burning through my blouse, searing into my collarbone.

I closed my eyes for a second. If I refused, I’d lose the school before I had the chance to expose Clara. I couldn’t let that happen.

“I’ll retract it,” I said quietly, the words feeling bitter in my mouth.

Crane looked surprised, eyebrows lifting slightly. Vincent looked satisfied, the corner of his mouth curving.

Clara smiled like she'd already won, chin tilting up.

"But you should know something," I added, my voice shaking, refusing to look away from Vincent's face. "You can make me take it back. But you won't be able to hide what your daughter did forever. When the truth comes out about my mother's locket… and everything else she's covering up… I hope you remember this moment. Because I will."

Vincent's smile disappeared, the temperature in the hallway seeming to drop with it.

"Careful, Miss Ashford. Some girls learn the hard way that running their mouths has consequences. Especially wolfless ones with no pack behind them."

"Is that a threat?" I asked, chin lifted despite the tremor still running through me.

"It's a fact," he said, flat and cold.

He turned to Crane. "We're done here. Make sure she follows through."

Then he walked away. Clara followed him, her heels clicking loudly against the floor, sharp and rhythmic, fading down the corridor.

Crane just nodded at me and went back into her office without saying a word, the door clicking shut behind her.

I pulled out my phone with shaking hands and texted Marcus.

Ophelia: Had to retract. Vincent Voss showed up with Crane and Clara. We'll finish later. Don't delete anything.

I didn't wait for a reply. I just walked out of the building and headed toward the omega dorms. The sun was going down, turning everything orange and long with shadows, the light slanting low through the trees. My bag straps dug into my shoulders, cutting in with every step. My chest felt tight, like I couldn't take a full breath, as the air itself had thinned.

I was almost at the trees when I heard footsteps behind me. Fast. More than one person, gravel crunching under boots.

I turned around.

Three guys in dark hoodies stepped out from between the trees. One rested a hockey stick across his shoulder while another tapped his lightly against his palm, as if this were just another practice.

The one in front tilted his head, studying me like I was already caught.

"You should've kept quiet about that locket, little omega."

My heart slammed against my ribs, a hard, frantic beat.

"Who sent you?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady even as it wavered at the edges. "Was it Vincent? Clara?"

He didn't answer. Just smiled, slow and unpleasant.

"Answer me," I said, louder, my hands curling into fists.

Still nothing. The one with the stick took a step closer, boots crunching on gravel.

I took one step back. The gravel shifted under my foot, loose and uneven.

"Stay away from me," I said, louder this time, my voice cracking in the middle.

But they were already moving.