AMANDA'S POV:

The exam room wasn't much better than the hallway. The same people who had once laughed at my jokes now acted as if I carried a plague. They gave me a wide berth, their whispers trailing behind me like a poisoned shadow.

"She has no shame," I heard a girl say to her friend. "She should be in the dungeons, not walking around like a free wolf."

"She should just end it," the second girl replied, her voice dripping with casual cruelty.

"I'm surprised they're still letting her attend this school," another chimed in. "She should be banished. Sent to join her rogue father."

My throat tightened. I blinked rapidly, refusing-refusing-to let them see me cry. Crying would be a victory for them. And I would not give them that satisfaction. I would stand tall until my family was cleared.

I walked to my desk and sat down, staring straight ahead. No eye contact. But I could still feel the weight of their stares-mocking, pitying, loathing. I curled my hands into fists under the desk. Hold on, Amanda. Don't let them break you.

I pulled out my supplies with as much composure as I could muster. That's when two boys, shoving each other in some roughhousing game, slammed into my desk. My bag toppled to the floor. One of them stomped directly onto my pencil case, the plastic cracking audibly beneath his heel.

"I didn't see it," the boy said, shrugging. There wasn't an ounce of remorse on his face. "Maybe you shouldn't leave your stuff where people walk."

He broke my things and now he's blaming me. The heat of real anger began to simmer beneath my skin. "You should apologize."

"Give me a break." The second boy sneered. "A traitor's daughter doesn't get to demand apologies."

"He crushed my pencil case," I said, my voice rising despite myself. "The exam is about to start. What am I supposed to do?"

"Quit making a scene, Omega," someone called out from the back. "Isn't the 'honor student' supposed to be so smart? Can't take a test without supplies? Or were all your grades just cheating?"

Laughter erupted. A few students snickered behind their hands. I tried to ignore them, but my heart was pounding. This exam mattered-for college, for scholarships, for any future I had left.

I turned to the student beside me. "Can I borrow-"

"No." She didn't even look at me. "I'm not getting involved with a traitor."

I tried the next desk. And the next. Each rejection landed like a slap. No one would meet my eyes. No one would help.

I'm going to fail. I'm going to fail and lose everything, all because of a cracked pencil case and a name I never chose.

Then, a hand appeared in my peripheral vision.

"Here. Use mine." Steven extended a spare pencil case toward me. "I always keep an extra set."

I looked up at him, this boy I barely knew. He wasn't looking at me like I was garbage. He wasn't whispering behind his hand. He was just... offering.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice cracking.

"Don't mention it." He gave a small, easy smile, as if lending a pencil to a pariah was the most normal thing in the world.

I didn't know why he was helping me. But right now, I didn't care. For the first time all day, someone had treated me like a person instead of a plague.

I took a shaky breath and turned back to my desk, gripping the borrowed pencil case like a lifeline.

Fortunately, studying always grounded me. As the minutes ticked by, I poured myself into the exam paper. Numbers were easier than people. Equations didn't judge. They didn't sneer. Like always, I finished first. But I took my time double-checking every answer.

When the bell finally rang and I walked to the front to submit my paper, Mr. Donald-my teacher-didn't even look at me. He just snatched the sheet from my hand, as if touching me was a crime.

This was the same man who used to brag about me to other teachers.

"Amanda Porter is one of my brightest students," he used to say. "I have no doubt she'll be our top graduate."

Now, Mr. Donald couldn't even meet my eyes.

I swallowed the pain. I wouldn't let them see me break.

I walked out of the classroom and headed toward the cafeteria. My stomach growled the entire way. I'd skipped breakfast, and the small dinner we'd shared last night hadn't done much to fill me. I knew the cafeteria would be crowded, but I'd hoped to at least sit quietly and eat alone.

The buzz of students hit me as I walked in. The place was packed, but I spotted a small empty spot at a table with some girls. I walked over and stood behind the chair.

"Um. excuse me. Can I sit-"

One of the girls didn't even let me finish. She pulled her tray away from the empty space.

"No. We don't want a traitor sitting with us."

Another girl added, loud enough for everyone around to hear, "Yeah, go sit with the rogues. That's where your family belongs."

My heart burned, but I kept my face blank. I moved to another table. A group of boys was eating there. The moment I pulled out a chair to sit, they shot up.

"I'm not sitting with her," one of them announced.

"Yeah, let's bounce," another muttered.

They left so fast you'd think I was holding a knife.

The humiliation struck me square in the chest. My hands trembled as I pushed the chair back into place. I didn't know where else to go.

I got in line for food. At least food couldn't talk back.

When it was finally my turn, the cook stopped cold, as if she'd just seen something disgusting crawl toward her.

She crossed her arms. "No. Move along."

I stared at her. "Ma'am. I just want my portion. Please."

She jutted her chin toward the back door. "Leftovers are in there. Eat that. It's what your kind deserves."

My breath caught. The entire line went silent. Some watched. Others whispered. Laughter hid behind their hands.

I wished the ground would crack open and swallow me whole. The heat spread across my face-shame, anger, hurt, all of it tangled together. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. In that moment, I felt like my father had died all over again. And this time, my life went with him.

My father had given everything to protect this Pack. He'd made the ultimate sacrifice-his life for the Alpha's. And now the very people he died to protect wanted me to feel ashamed of my own blood.

My hands shook.

I took a small step back.

And then I noticed a familiar presence.

Steven.

I turned slowly to find him walking toward me, a tray in his hands. I stood there, barely breathing, unsure of what was coming.

"Come join me, Amanda. Let's eat together," Steven said, stopping right in front of me.

I opened my mouth to accept-to thank him for being the only decent person in this entire building-

A shadow swept past my eyes. A crash exploded in my ears.

My heart leaped as I registered the sound of something shattering against the floor.

"Oh my Goddess," I whispered, staring down.

Steven's tray. the one he'd brought for both of us. was overturned on the tiles. Food splattered everywhere.

But that wasn't the worst part.

The food wasn't just on the floor.

It was on me.

Warm soup soaked through my clothes. I must have looked like someone had dumped an entire pot over my head.

A few gasps rippled through the crowd. Then came the laughter. It spread fast-loud, sharp, cruel. The entire room erupted. I felt the ground should crack open and swallow me whole.

"Look at her! Now she actually looks like trash!" someone called out.

My chest tightened so hard I thought I might pass out.

Slowly, as if waking from a nightmare, I lifted my eyes.

Donovan stood there.

His gaze was ice. No guilt. No hesitation. He wasn't even breathing hard. He didn't pretend it was an accident. He just glared at me as if everything he'd just done was perfectly justified.

As if humiliating me was normal.

My lips trembled. "D-Donovan. why.?"

The corner of his mouth curled. "A traitor's daughter doesn't deserve cafeteria food. You should be eating out of the garbage."

His voice carried across the room. Every single person was watching me now. Some sneered. Others kept laughing.

But that wasn't what hurt the most. What hurt most was the cold emptiness on Donovan's face.

As if being shunned by the entire school wasn't enough. The boy I once loved had become the one leading the charge against me.

I refused to accept this cruel reality. I gathered what courage I had left and stepped closer to him, trying to reach whatever humanity was still buried inside him.

"Why can't I eat here? Isn't the cafeteria for everyone?"

"No," Donovan shook his head, his voice flat and final. "It's a new rule. Traitors don't eat here. And anyone who breaks the rules pays the price."

He let the words hang in the air, his eyes boring into mine-daring me to argue, daring me to cry, daring me to break.

Around us, the laughter swelled again.

But I didn't cry. Not yet.

I just stood there, soaked in soup, and stared at the boy who had once promised to protect me from the world.

Now he was the world I needed protecting myself from.

DONOVAN'S POV

I watched Amanda's eyes-those eyes I had once loved more than anything-fill with tears she refused to let fall. For one unbearable moment, my chest seized with a pain I couldn't name. My wolf snarled inside me, clawing to get out, to reach our mate, to wipe the tears from her face and pull her into my arms.

I promised to protect her forever. I would have torn apart anyone who dared hurt her.

That was supposed to be my purpose. My destiny. And I would have embraced it gladly.

Then, just as I felt myself slipping-just as I almost stepped toward her-someone else got there first.

That damned Steven.

"Since when does this school make rules based on your mood?" His voice was calm, steady, dripping with defense for her. "Who gave you the right to decide who eats and who doesn't?"

I wanted to kill him.

I forced myself to turn, to face him. "New arrival," I said, each word slow and deliberate, "as the future Alpha, I have every right to make rules for the safety of this Pack."

"Oh, really?" He raised an eyebrow, and the look on his face made me want to rearrange his features. "I don't recall hearing that children have to starve just because their father committed a crime."

"If you're deaf, that's not my problem." I smiled-a cold, sharp thing. "I won't waste my energy repeating myself to someone so far beneath me."

Steven's hands curled into fists at his sides.

Good. Throw the first punch. Give me a reason.

I wanted him to swing. I wanted to tear that smug, righteous face apart. I wanted Amanda to see-to finally see-the ugly, hypocritical soul hiding behind that heroic mask.

But the coward didn't move.

Instead, she stepped in front of him.

"Leave Steven alone." Her voice was small but steady. "This has nothing to do with him."

The words hit me like a blade between the ribs.

I stared at her-my Amanda-standing between me and another male. Protecting him. Him.

My wolf howled in fury. My jaw tightened so hard I thought my teeth might crack.

"You're defending him now?" The question came out lower than I intended, rougher. I couldn't quite hide the edge beneath it.

She didn't flinch. Didn't back down. Just stood there, soaked in soup, looking at me like I was the monster.

"I'm just stating facts," she said, her jaw set with that stubborn resolve I knew too well. "You're targeting me. There's no need to drag innocent people into it."

"Innocent?" The word nearly made me laugh. "A traitor's daughter like you-do you even know what 'innocent' means?"

She flinched. The light in her eyes dimmed, just for a second. But instead of the satisfaction I'd expected, something else twisted in my gut.

She looked at me-really looked at me-with something I hadn't seen before.

"I misjudged you," she said quietly. "I was foolish to think we. at least we used to be friends."

The disappointment in her voice hit harder than I wanted to admit.

Before I could reach for her-before I could stop myself-she turned and ran out of the cafeteria. I should have gone after her. But my feet stayed nailed to the floor.

Because Amanda didn't look back. Not once.

---

AMANDA'S POV:

I ran. I ran like I could outrun the tears, like if I moved fast enough, no one would see me fall apart.

I never thought Donovan would become my worst bully. I could ignore the others-their sneers, their whispers, their cruel little jokes. But every time his eyes met mine with that look of disgust, it felt like my heart was being carved out piece by piece.

Could I really survive this? Finish school in this place? Maybe I should just disappear. Find a corner where no one would ever notice me.

"Hey, Amanda." Steven caught up to me, breathless. "Are you okay?"

I didn't understand why he kept following me. When the whole world had turned against me, this boy I barely knew kept showing up. Maybe he was just too good for his own sake.

"I'm fine." I wiped my tears quickly and turned to face him. "Thank you. But I just want to be alone right now."

His outstretched hand hesitated, then dropped to rub the back of his neck. "Okay. I get it. If you ever need anything, just call."

I nodded. We said goodbye.

The afternoon passed faster than I expected. Maybe because I'd started learning how to tune out the hate. I left before the final bell this time-I couldn't risk missing the early bus to the Omega tenement. I couldn't stomach another minute of their stares.

But luck wasn't on my side.

The moment I reached the bus stop, three male wolves stepped out from the shadows, blocking my path.

"Where do you think you're going, traitor girl?" one of them sneered.

I tried to step around them. Another one moved to block me.

"Get out of my way," I said, my voice sharp. "You don't want to find out what I'll do to you."

"Ooh, feisty," another mocked. "Maybe that's why her dad ran off. Couldn't handle all that heat."

Rage coiled in my stomach, hot and sick. "Don't talk about my father."

They laughed like I'd told a joke. "What are you gonna do about it, Omega?"

One of them stepped closer, his breath hot and foul. "Tell me, why beg for scraps in the cafeteria when you could just. be nice to us? We might take care of you. Real good."

My body went rigid. I understood exactly what he was suggesting. "Stay away from me. I'm warning you."

One of them grabbed my wrist. "Relax. We're trying to help you. No one else will touch you. You should be grateful."

"Let go of me!" I yelled, louder this time.

"No," he grinned, his other hand moving toward my chest. "Not until we've had our-"

"Hey!"

A voice rang out from across the street. Familiar. The boys froze.

I turned.

Steven.

He walked straight toward us, and I'd never seen that look on his face before. Hard. Dangerous.

"Let her go. Now," he said.

The leader scoffed. "What's it to you? Who made you the knight in shining armor?"

"I said let her go," Steven repeated. "Unless you want trouble."

For a moment, I thought they might swing at him. But something in Steven's eyes made them hesitate. The one holding my wrist let go like my skin had burned him.

"Whatever. Not worth it," he muttered, backing away. "She's just a worthless Omega anyway. Her whole family is trash. I wouldn't want her stink on me."

They slunk off without another glance.

I let out a shaky breath.

"You okay?" Steven asked.

I nodded, even though my hands were still trembling. "Yeah. Thank you."

He told me to wait, jogged back to the school lot, and pulled his car around in under a minute. Twenty minutes later, he dropped me at the tenement.

I turned to him with a warm smile. "Thank you, Steven. I don't know why you keep doing this, but. I really appreciate it."

"It's nothing," he said. "If you want, I could pick you up every morning. Drop you off after school."

The offer felt. big. Like something I shouldn't accept without thinking.

"I'll. think about it," I said softly.

He nodded and drove off. But I stood there longer than I should have, watching his car disappear down the road. I couldn't say why. Something heavy settled in my chest.

I sighed and turned toward the stairwell.

And walked straight into a solid wall of muscle.

I looked up.

My blood went cold.

Donovan Reed stood right in front of me.

His eyes snapped to mine-then widened. A sharp inhale cut through the silence. Before I could step back, his hand shot out and closed around my throat.

"What the hell is this scent?" he snarled.

I clawed at his wrist. "D-Donovan-wait-"

"You smell like you've been rolling around with a dozen men," he growled, his grip tightening. "I knew it. The moment you stepped in front of that bastard in the cafeteria, I knew. You're sleeping with him. And not just him?" His lip curled. "You're pathetic, Amanda. Spreading your legs for anyone who says hello."

I tried to speak, but no sound came out. My vision blurred at the edges.

He didn't stop.

"A traitor's daughter whoring herself out like some cheap slut," he hissed.

My knees buckled. Still, he didn't let go. Spots danced in front of my eyes. A ringing filled my ears.

Then-his grip loosened.

He let go completely. I slumped against the wall, coughing, gasping, dragging air into my burning lungs.

He stood there, breathing hard, his jaw clenched like stone.

"Stop running around like a stray," he bit out. "If you get hurt, the Pack will blame me. I'm not your babysitter."

I wiped my eyes and steadied my voice. "I wasn't running around. Some guys tried to-"

"I don't care," he cut me off.

His gaze dragged over me-taking in my wrinkled, soaked clothes, the dirt, the red marks blooming on my throat.

"From now on," Donovan said, his voice flat and sharp as a blade, "you're my personal servant. A small way for you to atone for your father's crimes. You come when I call. You do what I say."

My heart dropped, a cold, heavy stone sinking in my chest.

"What?"

AMANDA'S POV:

Donovan didn't give me a chance to deny. He simply got into his SUV and drove away.

I walked into our tiny apartment, forcing myself to stay calm, to pretend everything was fine. Thankfully, the main room was empty. No one had to see me like this.

I slipped into the bathroom, changed quickly, and layered concealer over the bruises on my neck. The skin still throbbed, raw and angry. But what hurt more was knowing who had put them there. Donovan. My Donovan.

He used to drive me home from school every day. He used to buy cafeteria fries just to arrange them on the table in the shape of my face, making me laugh until my stomach hurt. Now that same person spat venom at me, grabbed me by the throat like I was dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to fall apart and cry until there was nothing left. But I didn't. Because what would be the point?

When I finally walked back into the living room, Mom was sitting at the table. She looked tired, but the moment she saw me, she smiled-that same soft, warm smile she'd always had.

"Hey, sweetheart," she said gently. "Rough day?"

I shook my head and forced a smile. "Not really. Though the math test was harder than I expected."

I couldn't tell her the truth. Not with her illness. Not when she was already suffering. The last thing I wanted was for the Pack to use her sickness as another excuse to hurt us.

"Then my baby needs a good meal." Mom turned and headed to the kitchen. I peered in and saw her standing at the stove, stirring something in a pot. The smell of peppers and onions filled the small space.

"Mom, let me help," I said, stepping toward her.

She shook her head quickly. "No. Not today. The Pack doctor came by earlier. He gave me medicine. I'm feeling much better now." She nodded toward Max's room. "If you want to help, check your brother's homework. He's been complaining about a math problem he can't solve."

I let out a long breath-and only then realized I'd been holding it. The Pack doctor had come. Alpha was still letting her be treated. That meant we hadn't been completely abandoned. That meant there was still hope.

"Okay," I said quietly, and walked toward Max's room, grateful I wouldn't have to lie anymore tonight.

***

I arrived earlier than ever the next morning. Donovan had ordered me to report to the Pack House for "cleaning duties." His voice had been cold. Threatening. He didn't even bother hiding that this was punishment. He called it "atonement" for my father's so-called betrayal.

Father.

I still couldn't believe Alpha's story about him fleeing to join the rogues. Not for a single second. But I had no proof otherwise.

I walked the entire way to the Pack House. My legs ached, but I made it before five.

This place used to be my second home. Back when Donovan and I were close, I spent countless hours here. I laughed in these hallways. Sneaked into the kitchen for cookies. Watched movies with Donovan in the rec room.

Now it felt cold. Unwelcoming.

The moment I stepped inside, Elena, the housekeeper, spotted me. Her lip curled like she'd just smelled something rotten.

"Well, well. Look what the storm dragged in," she sneered, crossing her arms. "The traitor's daughter graces us with her presence."

I took a slow breath. "Good morning, Elena."

"Don't you 'good morning' me." She stepped closer, her finger jabbing toward my face. "You're an eyesore. You shouldn't be within a mile of this Pack House."

"That's not your decision, Elena." I straightened my spine, lifting my chin. She was a servant. She had no right to speak to me like that.

Her eyes went wide when I talked back. She shoved me backward, hard. "You filthy, disgusting traitor! How dare you open your mouth? You should be in the dungeons. Or running with the rogues like your father. Alpha is too merciful, letting you walk around spewing your nonsense."

Her voice kept rising. Louder and louder. Like she wanted to provoke me.

I didn't take the bait.

I held her gaze for a moment. "Elena," I cut in, my voice calm and cold. "Future Alpha Donovan assigned me this task. If you want to slow me down, go ahead. I'll tell him you interfered with his orders."

Her face twisted. "I'll be watching you," she hissed. "If you think I'm going to let this be easy for you."

I walked past her before she could finish.

It felt good to stand up for myself.

Even if my voice was shaking.

I climbed the stairs to Donovan's floor, my stomach clenching with every step. The hallway was silent. I held my breath as I approached his room. My palms were sweating when I raised my hand to knock.

Three soft knocks.

The door swung open almost instantly.

Donovan stood there in nothing but a pair of gray shorts. His hair was a mess, like he'd just rolled out of bed. Bare chest. Lean muscle. Smooth skin. The kind of body every girl in school dreamed about.

But all I saw was the boy who'd sworn to make my life hell. The one who'd grabbed my throat last night and nearly choked me unconscious.

His eyes swept over me, cold and flat. No expression. Not even annoyance.

Just ice.

"You're late," he said, his voice flat. "And being late means punishment."