Chapter 7 Aftershocks - Marked by Fate

Amelia's POV

Nathan's expression softened. "I felt your panic. Here," he tapped his temple. "Mind link."

"Mind link?"

"It's a connection between pack members. Lets us communicate telepathically in wolf form, and even in human form we can sense strong emotions, especially fear or pain."

I frowned. "But I've never felt that before."

"You weren't a real wolf before," he explained. "The link activates after your first transformation. Blood relations have the strongest natural links—the closer the relation, the stronger the connection. As your brother, I felt your terror like it was my own."

"So all werewolves are connected this way?"

Nathan shook his head. "The strength varies. Marked fated mates have the strongest bond—those who've completed the mating ritual. Blood relations come next, especially siblings and parent-child. Unmarked fated mates—like you and Alexander—have a potential connection, but it's not as strong until the bond is formalized. Below that are marked non-fated mates."

"You keep saying 'marked.' What does that mean?"

Nathan looked uncomfortable. "That's, uh, a conversation for another time. When you're not recovering from nearly being killed and then jumping the pack Alpha."

We turned onto our street, our modest two-story house a welcome sight after the night's chaos.

"Mom's going to kill me," I groaned, seeing lights still on. "I'm hours past curfew."

We entered quietly, hoping to sneak upstairs, but Mom appeared in the hallway immediately, her eyes widening in alarm at our disheveled appearance.

"What happened?" she gasped, rushing forward. "Nathan, you're limping! And Amelia—is that blood? Are you hurt?"

"We're fine, Mom," Nathan said quickly. "Just a little accident. Nothing serious."

She examined us both with worried eyes, touching my face, checking Nathan's leg. "This doesn't look like 'nothing serious.' Should we go to the hospital?"

"No hospitals," Nathan and I said in unison.

Mom looked suspicious but didn't push. "At least let me clean you up. Both of you, kitchen, now."

We followed her obediently, exchanging glances. She didn't know about my transformation—Nathan hadn't had time to tell her the whole story. For now, it seemed better to keep it that way.

Mom fussed over us for several minutes, cleaning scrapes and checking for serious injuries. Finally satisfied that we weren't on death's door, she let out a long sigh.

"I was worried sick when you didn't come home," she said, looking at me. "Both of you missing, not answering your phones..."

"I'm really sorry, Mom," I said, guilt washing over me. "It's been... a crazy night."

She studied my face for a moment, then her expression softened. "Wait here," she said suddenly, and disappeared into the pantry.

When she returned, she was carrying a small chocolate cake with eighteen unlit candles.

"I wasn't sure you'd make it back in time," she said with a small smile. "But I wanted to be ready just in case."

"Mom," I whispered, unexpected tears filling my eyes.

She set the cake on the table and carefully lit each candle. The warm glow illuminated the kitchen, casting dancing shadows on the walls.

"Make a wish, sweetheart," she said, squeezing my hand. "Happy birthday."

I looked at the flickering candles, then at my mother and brother—the family that had always been there for me. After everything that had happened tonight, I had no idea what to wish for. My life had been turned upside down in the span of a few hours.

But as I closed my eyes and blew out the candles, I knew one thing for certain: nothing would ever be the same again.

Morning came way too soon. I stared at my phone's screen, thumb hovering over the "Dismiss" button on my alarm. 7:30 AM. Two hours of fitful sleep wasn't nearly enough to process everything that had happened, let alone face a day of classes.

"You don't have to go today," Nathan said from my doorway. "I can call the school, say you're sick."

I looked up at my brother, surprised by how normal he appeared despite everything. The cuts on his face had already healed, and he was walking without a limp.

"And then what?" I asked, sitting up. "Hide in my room forever? I have to face it sometime."

My phone buzzed with a campus news alert. I glanced down to see the headline: "Wild Wolf Sighting Causes Panic on Campus, Animal Safely Returned to Forest."

"They're saying firefighters chased the wolf back into the forest," I said, showing Nathan the article. "Convenient."

Nathan's lips quirked into a half-smile. "Alexander has connections everywhere. Campus security, local police, fire department—they all know to call him first if anything... unusual happens. The official story is always some version of 'wild animal returned to habitat.'"

I scrolled through the article, surreal to read about myself as a dangerous animal. "No photos?"

"Security footage mysteriously malfunctioned," Nathan said. "Another Westbrook specialty."

He wasn't kidding about my senses being different. Stepping onto campus was like walking into a wall of sensory overload. Conversations from fifty yards away sounded like they were happening right beside me. The cafeteria smells hit me from across the quad. And the people—God, the people. I could smell them. Their shampoo, deodorant, what they'd had for breakfast, even traces of emotion—anxiety, excitement, exhaustion.

But most disturbing was how easily I could now identify who was human and who wasn't. Werewolves had a distinct scent—wilder, earthier. There were far more of them on campus than I'd ever realized.

Snippets of conversation about the wolf sighting floated to me from across the quad:

"—said it was huge, like the size of a bear—"

"—probably rabid, campus security should've shot it—"

"—my roommate swears she saw it outside our dorm—"

It was bizarre to hear people discussing me as if I were some mythical creature. Which, I guess, I kind of was now.

I made it through my first two classes in a daze, flinching at every loud noise, struggling to focus with so many new sensations bombarding me. By lunchtime, I had a pounding headache.

The cafeteria was worse. Hundreds of conversations, clattering trays, sizzling food—it was torture. I grabbed a sandwich and retreated to a quiet corner, pressing my forehead against the cool window glass.

Breathe through your mouth, I remembered Nathan telling me this morning. It helps filter out the overwhelming smells. I tried it, and the assault on my senses diminished somewhat.

My eyes scanned the crowded cafeteria automatically, searching for a familiar face. Daniel wasn't in our shared English Lit class this morning, and he wasn't here now. No surprise, considering what happened. Still, his absence was conspicuous.

I was just about to take a bite of my sandwich when the cafeteria seemed to hush. Vanessa entered with her usual entourage of perfectly coordinated followers. Her eyes scanned the room before locking onto mine. The hatred in her glare made me flinch.

She whispered something to her friends, and they all turned to stare at me before dissolving into malicious laughter. One of them made a crude gesture that made Vanessa laugh even harder. Then, as if deciding I wasn't worth her time, she turned sharply and led her group out of the cafeteria.

I slouched lower in my seat, appetite gone. What had happened after Alexander dragged her and Daniel away last night? Whatever it was, Vanessa clearly blamed me for it.