"Settle down and take your seats!" Mr. Harrison shouted, slapping his clipboard against the chalkboard.
The second day of senior year had officially begun. I sat frozen at my desk, practically drowning in the industrial-strength scent blockers I had applied that morning. Yesterday’s terrifying pre-heat in the storage room was shoved deep down, temporarily suppressed by the clinic's heavy medication, but my skin still buzzed with anxious energy.
The heavy wooden door swung open.
A boy walked in, and the morning chatter died instantly.
He was massive. Broad shoulders stretched the dark fabric of his t-shirt, and a raw, chilling aura radiated from him, pressing into the corners of the room. His jaw was sharp, his eyes entirely unreadable. He stood at the front of the class, offering no introduction.
"This is Rook," Mr. Harrison announced, breaking the heavy silence. "He transferred in this morning. Treat him with respect."
Rook didn’t smile. He didn’t wave. He just stared straight ahead.
"Go ahead and pick a seat, Rook," the teacher pointed toward the rows of desks. "There are plenty up front."
Rook bypassed the front row completely. His heavy sneakers thudded against the linoleum. He ignored the empty desk next to Chloe. He walked right past Mark.
He stopped at the empty desk directly beside mine. The quarantine zone.
He dropped his black canvas backpack onto the floor. The metal chair groaned in protest as he sat down.
I pressed my spine into my chair, my heart hammering against my ribs. Out of all the open spots in the room, why here?
The dismissal bell blared through the speakers. Mr. Harrison grabbed his briefcase and hurried out the door.
Before I could even reach for my zipper, a shadow fell over my desk.
Raven slammed her palms flat on Rook’s table. Three of her friends flanked her, forming a wall of hostile glares.
"You must be lost, new guy," Raven snapped.
Rook kept his eyes on his blank notebook.
"I'm talking to you," Raven raised her voice. "Did your previous school not teach you how the pack hierarchy works?"
Silence.
"Let me spell it out," Raven pointed a sharply manicured finger at me. "She is an Omega. Elowen is the bottom of the barrel. She’s defective trash. If you sit next to her, you’re choosing to be a target."
I stared at my hands. "Leave him alone, Raven."
"Shut your mouth!" Raven barked, stepping closer to my desk. She turned her attention back to Rook. "Move your bag. Sit with us. Unless you want the entire senior class to make your life a living hell."
Rook shifted his gaze. He looked at Raven’s hand resting on his desk. Then he looked back at his notebook. He didn’t speak. He didn’t even blink.
Mark stepped up behind Raven, crossing his arms over his chest. "Don't waste your breath, Raven. Look at him."
"Look at what?" she asked.
"He's terrified," Mark scoffed loudly. "He won't even make eye contact. He's got no scent, no spine. I bet my truck he's an Omega too. Just another weak runt hiding in the corner."
Raven’s lip curled in disgust. "Seriously? Two Omegas in one room?"
"Explains why he went straight for the reject pile," Chloe chimed in from the next row, laughing harshly.
Raven kicked the metal leg of Rook’s desk. The screech echoed off the walls.
"Fine. Sit with the loser," Raven sneered. "But don't expect anyone in this pack to ever throw you a bone. You're both dead weight."
She spun around and marched out. Her friends followed, their mocking laughter trailing down the hallway.
The classroom emptied, leaving just the two of us.
I glanced at Rook. He sat perfectly still. His jaw was set in a hard line, but he offered no greeting, no complaint about the confrontation. He didn't even look my way.
"You don't have to sit here," I whispered.
He didn't answer. He just pulled a pen from his pocket and clicked it. The sharp sound snapped through the quiet room.
I grabbed my bag and rushed out the door.
***
The final bell of the day brought no relief.
I skipped the main roads and took the dirt path through the woods. The towering pines usually offered a quiet escape from the suffocating halls of Fogwood High. Today, the shadows stretching across the trail only made me feel exposed.
A dry twig snapped behind me.
I froze.
Heavy footsteps crunched against the gravel. Someone was walking exactly in rhythm with my pace.
I quickened my steps. The footsteps sped up.
Panic flared in my chest. Yesterday's attack in the storage room flashed through my mind. I spun around, clutching the straps of my backpack like a shield.
Rook stood ten paces away.
The late afternoon sun filtered through the branches, casting sharp shadows across his face. He stopped the exact second I did.
"Why are you following me?" I demanded, my voice trembling.
Rook shoved his hands into his pockets. "New house is on the way."
"You've been walking behind me for a mile."
"It's a public trail."
"There are other trails," I shot back. "Safer ones. Ones that don't go near the Omega district."
"This one is shortest," he replied effortlessly.
"I don't believe you." I took a step backward. "Did Raven send you? Is this some kind of joke?"
Rook tilted his head. "I don't take orders from teenagers."
"Then walk ahead of me," I challenged. "Pass me."
"I walk at my own pace."
His voice was deep, entirely void of the fear Mark had accused him of having earlier. There was no tremble, no hesitation.
"Please," I pleaded, the exhaustion of the day finally breaking through my defenses. "Just leave me alone. I already have a target on my back. I don't need you making it worse."
Rook stared at me. His eyes locked onto mine, piercing and unyielding. For a fraction of a second, the air between us grew impossibly heavy, suffocatingly dense.
"I'm not making it worse," he stated flatly.
He didn't move forward, but he didn't retreat either.
I turned around and practically sprinted down the remainder of the trail. My lungs burned, and my legs ached by the time my small, rundown house came into view.
I rushed up the porch steps, shoved my key into the lock, and pushed the door open.
Before shutting it, I risked one last glance over my shoulder.
Rook was standing at the edge of the tree line. He wasn't walking toward any new house. He was just watching my front door.
And as the wind shifted, carrying a faint trace of a scent the blockers couldn't hide, a terrifying realization slammed into me.
Mark was wrong. The whole class was wrong.
Rook wasn't an Omega.
