Chapter 8

Evre's pupils shrank in fear. She instinctively tried to use her spatial ability to protect herself.

Right then, a large hand appeared out of nowhere and grabbed Veronica's wrist firmly.

"Veronica, bullying people in the hallway this late? Is your crazy disease getting worse?"

A lazy, mocking voice came from behind the crowd.

The students automatically moved aside to make way. Bradley walked over slowly with one hand in his pocket, his black hair messily falling over his forehead. That annoyingly good-looking face had its usual smirk, but his dark eyes showed a dangerous coldness that even made Veronica freeze.

Veronica's wrist was gripped tightly, her bones aching. Her face went pale, but she didn't dare fight back.

"Bradley, mind your own business! She was in the woods last night—"

"She was with me." Bradley interrupted her easily, squeezing harder until Veronica cried out softly. He let go of her hand with obvious disgust. "Since when do I need your approval to spend the night with someone?"

Everyone in the hallway gasped.

All eyes turned to Evre, then back to Bradley in shock. Everyone knew his reputation—the top Alpha troublemaker from an incredibly powerful family. How could someone like him be involved with a "useless" girl like Evre?

Veronica's mouth opened and closed, her face turning red and white with anger and embarrassment.

She stared hard at Bradley's face, trying to find any sign he was lying, but he just looked back at her with that annoying half-smile, his high-level Alpha pressure making it hard for her to breathe.

"This is your last warning." Veronica gave Evre one final hateful look before taking her followers and pushing through the dispersing crowd.

As people left, Evre and Bradley stood alone in the quiet corner of the hallway.

Evre's tense body finally relaxed, her back soaked with cold sweat under her uniform.

She took a shaky breath and looked up at him. "Thanks, Bradley. If you hadn't come, I would've—"

"Exposed your little secret?" Bradley raised an eyebrow, his tone casual as usual.

Evre pressed her lips together and said nothing.

She moved slightly closer to him, her nose twitching almost invisibly.

A werewolf's sense of smell never lies, especially when it comes to their Mate's scent.

But all she could smell on Bradley was faint cheap cigarette smoke and the strong artificial smell of the bargain cologne he always wore.

No fresh pine scent. No overwhelming dominance. No intense biological attraction that should exist between bonded Mates.

Evre let out a long breath of relief.

Thank god. It wasn't him.

The mysterious Alpha by the river—the one who had claimed her so intensely and left such a deep mark on her soul—was definitely not this annoying childhood friend standing in front of her.

Whoever that man was, at least she wouldn't have to deal with the uncomfortable situation of facing someone she actually knew.

Bradley watched her subtle reaction, his eyes carefully guarded.

He lowered his lashes, hiding the brief flash of pain in his dark gold eyes.

He knew exactly what she was looking for.

This morning, after she ran away, he had endured the pain of his reopened wound to inject a family-supplied scent suppressor. He'd covered himself in the cheapest, strongest cologne he could find to hide any trace of his real scent.

He knew Evre too well.

If she found out that the man who took advantage of her weak moment was him, her pride and stubborn personality would make her run away where he could never reach her.

Until he cleared away all the obstacles between them, he would keep playing the careless, irresponsible childhood friend.

"Last night..." Bradley's voice was lower than usual, his eyes dropping to her buttoned-up collar. "How was it?"

Evre froze. Memories hit her hard.

Sebastian's cold mockery. Veronica's mean laughter. The suffocating allergic reaction. And then—the wild, out-of-control passion by the river under the full moon. Every moment felt like another knife cutting into what was left of her dignity.

But she would never—could never—admit any of this to Bradley.

Since they were kids, he'd always teased her and enjoyed seeing her embarrassed. If he knew she'd been publicly humiliated by Sebastian and then claimed by some unknown stranger in the woods, he'd never let her forget it.

Evre bit her lower lip until she tasted blood, forcing her face to look completely calm. She lifted her chin, her voice deliberately casual: "It was wonderful. Sebastian was a perfect gentleman. The concert was amazing. We had... a really beautiful night."

She stressed the word "beautiful," as if saying it more would make the lie real.

Complete silence fell between them.

Bradley stared at her. At her pale face. At the slight trembling of her eyelashes. At the fresh drop of blood on her lip where she'd bitten too hard. Her act was so fragile it hurt to watch.

He wanted to rip open her collar and point to the claiming mark on her neck—the mark that made her his, that connected their souls. He wanted to shake her and yell: You're lying. You were crying in my arms. You trembled under me. You are my Fated Mate.

But he couldn't.

Bradley's throat moved as he swallowed hard, an unbearable pain rising inside him.

He would die for her without hesitation, yet she would rather make up an elaborate lie to protect the guy who hurt her than show him even a tiny bit of weakness.

"Really?" Bradley's mouth curved into something like a smile. It was the most bitter, broken expression he'd ever shown—a smile that destroyed everything it touched. "That's... good."

He said nothing more. No sarcastic comment. No mocking reply.

He just looked at her one more time—deeply, endlessly—then turned and walked away down the hallway.

His retreating figure seemed somehow smaller. Evre found herself staring at the slight unevenness in his walk, at the way his left leg favored one side, as if he were hiding a serious injury under his casual clothes, refusing to let it show.

Evre stood frozen, her fake smile falling apart.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

The Bradley she knew would have shot back with some sharp remark, would have rolled his eyes and called her a lovesick idiot. But that broken smile... that defeated posture...

A piece of memory surfaced—the dark figure by the river. The overwhelming smell of blood. The terrible wound cut into his stomach. And now, Bradley walking with that same carefully hidden pain.

An impossible thought exploded in her mind, and her heart seemed to stop.

No.

It couldn't be.

"Bradley!"

Before she could think, her body had already moved.

She rushed forward and grabbed his arm.