Chapter 151: Ripple effect.
Charis
"You remember everything I told you, right?" Isolde’s voice was gentle but firm as we sat in her sleek black car at the school gates.
I nodded, adjusting the strap of my designer bag. The morning sun cast long shadows across the campus, and I could see students streaming toward the main building in their crisp uniforms.
"Good. And remember, darling—you’re not Eamon anymore. You’re Charis Greye Knox, my ward, and you have every right to be here."
Isolde had managed to convince me to remain in the assigned dorm room after showing me documentation that the system had indeed randomly selected us. Though I still had my doubts about the supposed randomness.
"It’s for the best," she’d said. "It saves you the discomfort of adjusting to completely new roommates, and frankly, it gives you natural access to the boys for our mission."
I had nodded then, but now, sitting here in the safety of the car, doubts were beginning to creep in again.
"Isolde," I said carefully, "I saw a car from Crestborne pack arrive earlier this morning. I happened to wake up at the exact time and saw their flag."
Isolde’s expression darkened slightly, but she reached for my hand and squeezed it comfortingly.
"Your father knows you’re alive," she said. "He’s trying to make you come home."
My blood ran cold. "What do you mean he knows?"
"He sent delegates this morning. Three pack officials are demanding you come home with them. I’m suspecting that Vale must have reached him."
"What did you tell them?" I asked. I didn’t want to talk about Vale.
"I turned them away, of course. But I did send a message back with them." Isolde said quietly, "I requested a meeting with Alpha Silas himself. If he wants to discuss your future, he can do it properly, with me present as your legal guardian."
"He’ll never agree to that."
"We’ll see. Your father is many things, but he’s not stupid. He knows I have resources he can’t simply bulldoze through."
I sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. The thought of facing my father again, of being dragged back to that life of arranged marriages and political alliances, made my stomach churn.
"Remember, darling," Isolde said softly, "no one can force you to go back to the life you lived before. You’re an adult now and under my protection. Your father has no power over you anymore."
I nodded, drawing strength from her certainty. "I understand."
"Good. Now go show them who you really are."
I alighted from the car, and a porter was already waiting to take my belongings to my room. I straightened my blazer and started toward the main building. It was almost time for the first lesson to begin.
The corridors were bustling with students, and I made my way toward my assigned locker, number 247. Just as I stepped into the corridor that led to the second-year lockers, someone bumped into me hard enough to nearly knock me over.
"Sorry," the boy mumbled, barely looking up as he rushed past.
I looked up and my heart stopped. It was Peter.
The same Peter who had been one who had always been suspicious about me when I was Eamon. From the moment he’d discovered that I was a Shadewolf, his suspicion had doubled.
Peter seemed to be in a hurry and disappeared around the corner before I could fully process the encounter. I sighed in relief, but I still had to be on guard; there was no telling if he might recognise me.
I straightened and continued toward my locker, overhearing whispered conversations as I passed.
"My God, she’s stunning."
"Is that really Charis Greye? I heard she disappeared months ago."
"Look at those clothes. That bag alone probably costs more than my tuition. Isn’t Crestborne Pack broke?"
I kept my expression neutral as I reached locker 247 and began organising my books. I pulled out my class schedule and taped it to the inside of the locker door:
As I arranged my textbooks by subject, I was so lost in thought that I didn’t hear footsteps approaching until they were close, and I tried to lift my head to look up when I saw the handle of my locker moving towards me with speed.
My reflexes, sharpened by months of training with Isolde’s instructors, kicked in instantly. I stepped back just in time, and the heavy metal door crashed shut with a bang that echoed through the corridor.
The sudden noise made every student in the hallway stop and turn to look. Conversations died mid-sentence, and an uncomfortable silence settled over the space.
I looked up to see a group of six girls standing in front of me, their expressions ranging from smug satisfaction to outright hostility. I recognised several faces immediately.
Miranda Peters, the Student Council’s fourth most powerful member, stood in the centre of the group with her arms crossed. To her left was Rita, whom I remembered as Kael’s ex-girlfriend. There was another girl whose face was familiar, but I couldn’t remember her name.
I took in the group quietly, then folded my arms and regarded them with cool assessment.
"I’m going to assume that you’re blind and accidentally ran into my open locker," I said evenly. "Next time, watch where you’re going."
Gasps rippled from the onlookers.
I turned back to my locker and reached for the handle, but before I could open it, Miranda slammed her hand against it, keeping it shut.
I gritted my teeth and turned to face her with a glare.
"Are you deaf as well as blind? Didn’t you hear what I told you the first time?"
Miranda chuckled and took a step closer to me. "For a new student, you have a lot of guts."
"Why?" I asked, amusement flashing in my eyes despite the tension. "Does it offend you?"
"Listen, princess," Miranda said, her voice dripping with false sweetness, "I don’t know how things worked at whatever fancy private school you transferred from, but here at Ravenshore, there’s a hierarchy. New students, especially ones like you, start at the bottom."
"How fascinating," I replied dryly. "And what exactly makes you think I care about your little social ladder?"
Rita stepped forward, "Maybe because some of us have been here for years, earning our positions, while you just waltz in with your designer clothes and famous last name, thinking you own the place."
"I see." I tilted my head, studying her with interest. "And which of you has a problem with my last names specifically?"
The question seemed to catch them off guard. They exchanged glances, clearly not expecting me to address their hostility so directly.
"Everyone knows the Greye pack has been in decline for months now," the unnamed girl spoke up. "Your father’s lost most of his political influence. You’re not as important as you think you are, and didn’t you run away from home seven months ago?"