Chapter 3

JILLIAN

I woke up feeling like my whole body was on fire. My head throbbed, my limbs ached, and the room spun around me. Even Gigi, my wolf, was silent inside me. Normally, she'd be pacing, alert, and restless—but today, she seemed... quiet. Worried, maybe.

I wanted to stay in bed, curl up, and let the world pass me by. But I couldn't. Omegas had obligations. Rights? We had none. I had to go. I had to face the academy, even if it nearly killed me.

The sun was merciless. The day felt hotter than any summer I could remember. Every step to the academy made my body sweat and tremble.

"Miss Richards," a sharp voice cut through the air as soon as I arrived. Mrs. Karen Smith, a professor known to be close with Mariel's family, frowned at me. "Clean the roof today. Now."

I swallowed my nausea. "Y-Yes, ma'am," I whispered, voice shaking. I wanted to refuse. I wanted to collapse right there. But I had no right to say no.

Up the ladder and onto the sun-baked roof I went, every step making my head spin. I tried to focus on scrubbing, sweeping, working. Anything to survive.

And then I heard it—laughter. High-pitched, cruel, familiar.

Mariel and her friends were waiting at the edge of the roof, sneering.

"Well, well," Mariel mocked. "Look who's here. How did you even escape the bathroom yesterday?"

I wanted to say it—the truth. The king, Larson... they helped me. But I swallowed it down. If I said that, Mariel would become worse. I stayed silent.

They didn't wait. Cold juice poured down my head. Trash followed, tumbling over my shoulders, onto my arms and the floor.

Mariel laughed, leaning against the wall. "Did you think you could escape me? How pathetic."

Emily snickered, pointing at my drenched hair. "Look at her! She looks so funny right now."

Agatha stepped closer, kicking a small puddle toward my feet. "Is this all you can do? Crawl around and cry?"

Lesley giggled. "Didn't your wolf tell you to run faster? Or are you too weak even for that?"

Mariel crouched slightly, eyes cold and sharp. "Next time, little omega, remember your place. Never look at Larson. He's mine. And if you even think about stepping out of line again..."

She smirked and threw the last of the cold juice over me. "I'll make sure you regret it. Crawl, beg, suffer—it's all you're good for."

The three of them burst into laughter, echoing down the hallway as I stood there, shaking and humiliated.

I sank to my knees, trying not to faint. The heat, the sickness, the embarrassment—it was too much.

When Mrs. Smith arrived, her eyes narrowed at the mess. "You didn't do your work!" she snapped. She slapped my face sharply. "Now clean this!"

My body trembled as I fell to the floor, scrubbing the mess. The dizziness hit hard, and suddenly, I vomited.

Mrs. Smith's face twisted with anger. She grabbed my head and pushed it down toward my own puke. "You omega! You're disgusting worthless bitch! Look what you've done!" she shouted. "Clean it now!"

I cried silently, shivering, soaked, humiliated beyond words. My hands trembled as I finished the cleaning, finishing every corner, every stain. Exhaustion hit me like a brick wall, my body trembling uncontrollably.

I staggered toward the elevator—but it was locked. Mrs. Smith's final punishment, no doubt.

I started climbing the stairs, each step heavier than the last. My vision blurred. My knees buckled. I knew I would fall.

And then—strong arms caught me.

"Careful," a deep, commanding voice said.

I froze. I dared not look up. My wolf growled softly, alert and confused.

When I finally did, my eyes widened. King Carlton Davis. He held me in his arms, solid and impossibly strong.

"I... I'm sorry, sir," I whispered, bowing instinctively. Fear and respect mixed with something... else.

"You're sick," he said gently, ignoring my apology.

Something in his voice, in the warmth of his arms, made my heart slow. Safe. Secure. The dizziness ebbed slightly. I rested my head against his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing, the strength radiating from him.

He carried me down the stairs effortlessly, ignoring the murmurs of students who saw us. Every step, I felt calmer, more protected than I had ever felt in my life.

He didn't stop until we reached his private elevator. "We're taking you to my office," he said, pressing a button. The doors slid shut, quiet, private.

Larson was already there when we arrived, his expression tense. "Dad, what happened?"

"She's sick," King Carlton said simply. "Call Pack doctor, now."

The doctor arrived quickly, examining me as my body shook with chills and weakness. Larson hovered nearby, his stormy gaze flicking between me and his father.

"Jillian, what happened?" Larson asked softly. His voice wasn't angry—it was concerned. My heart thudded painfully, shivering at the sound.

"I... I'm fine," I murmured, though I knew I wasn't. My fever burned hotter. My limbs trembled uncontrollably.

"You're not fine," Larson said quietly, stepping closer. My wolf stirred, ears alert. The electricity between us thrummed deep in my chest, confusing and terrifying me.

King Carlton's hand rested lightly on my shoulder. "Rest, Jillian. We will take care of you. No one will harm you."

I felt tears prick my eyes. Safe... protected... in the arms of a king. And yet, the presence of his son nearby stirred something I didn't understand. Desire? Fear? Both?

Gigi growled softly, confused by the pull between the two strongest wolves I had ever sensed.

The doctor guided me onto a soft couch in the office. My body shivered violently. "Sleep," he whispered. "You need rest."

Larson knelt beside me. "Do you want anything? Water? Blanket?"

I shook my head, too exhausted to speak. But my heart kept racing, trapped between fear, heat, and something impossible.

King Carlton's golden eyes softened as he adjusted the blanket around me. "You're safe now. Sleep. Tomorrow will be better."

I nodded weakly, my eyes fluttering closed. My wolf, Gigi, rumbled softly, sensing the tension, the electricity, the unspoken pull between me and the two most dangerous men in the academy.

Even as sleep took me, my mind lingered on their faces—the warmth of King Carlton, the storm of Larson—and a strange, confusing feeling curled deep inside me.