The pinched fear in her face eases a fraction. “Bye, Mr. Leif.”
“See you after school.” I resist the urge to smooth her hair or adjust her collar. “You’ve got this.”
I back away from her desk, keeping my movements unhurried despite the pressure of Ms. Peterson’s expectant stare. Quinn’s posture straightens, her chin lifting in the way Blake had taught her to do when facing things that frighten her. Sprinkles settles beneath her desk, his bulk taking up morespace than Ms. Peterson had likely anticipated when she put Quinn in the center of the classroom, but the dog remains silent and still.
Other parents file out ahead of me, some with backward looks at their children, others already checking phones or watches as they rejoin the workday world.
The hallway still bustles with activity as parents filter past on either side, their conversations a blur of sound as my footsteps carry me farther away.
Did I do the right thing, not warning Blake about Carson and explaining my concerns about Quinn’s vulnerability in this system? But what would I say that wouldn’t sound paranoid without context? How could I explain three years of subtle manipulation and professional sabotage without revealing how I had allowed myself to be controlled?
And who would back me up? No one at my old school believed me. I was labeled a troublemaker.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, jarring me out of my spiral, and I shake myself.Nothing is going to happen here. I’m safe.
I step out of the main flow of traffic and pause beside a trophy case near the stairwell, giving the last cluster of parents space to pass. My pulse is still elevated from leaving Quinn, but it’s the manageable kind now.
I pull my phone out to find a message waiting.
Emily
How’d it go?
Still on for woodworking if you are. No pressure.
The tightness between my shoulders eases, and I type back before I can overthink it.
Leif
She was brave. I’m on my way. Might be a little late.
A response comes right away.
Emily
That’s fine. Jared’s heading down to the docks now, so we’ll have the shop to ourselves.
The words send a small, unexpected spark through me, equal parts excitement and nerves. I’ve never been alone with Emily, but I think I’ve come to know the female Alpha well enough to trust her.
Leif
Sounds good. See you soon.
I slip the phone back into my pocket and push off the wall, angling toward the exit. For the first time since entering the academy steps, my breathing evens out, my thoughts narrowing to something simple and forward-facing.
Fifty feet from the doors, a familiar scent cuts through the hallway air, cherries and iron, and my steps falter. The back of my neck prickles, as if someone is watching.
Carson.
He stands near the entrance, his charcoal suit tailored to emphasize his runner’s build without appearing ostentatious. His sandy hair catches the light, the slight receding at his temples lending him an air of distinguished authority rather than age.
Parents cluster around him, wanting to ingratiate themselves with the new dean of the school. His hands move as he speaks, commanding attention without demanding it.
This is Carson in his element, lord of a new domain, with fresh territory to shape according to his vision. His posture communicates absolute confidence, his feet planted shoulder-width apart, his back straight. He belongs here, his ownership of the space palpable despite his recent arrival.
A father laughs at whatever Carson says, the sound echoing off the high ceiling. The group shifts, creating a gap, and Carson’s cool gray-green eyes lift, scanning the hallway with casual interest, and settle on me with unerring certainty.
My throat constricts, cutting off air mid-breath. Blood pulses in my ears, drowning out the ambient noise of the hallway, while a cold sweat breaks across my forehead and along my spine as our gazes lock.