Everything
Gabrielle POV
When the lunch bell rings, I check my phone.
Six unread messages. All from Tessa.
I sigh and head for the canteen. The moment I spot her at our usual table, she’s already waving both arms in the air like she’s directing traffic.
The room is noisier than usual, the air thick with overlapping voices and the sharp clatter of trays. Students crowd the long tables, shoulder to shoulder, packs within packs, conversations dipping and rising like waves.
“Alive!” she declares as I sit down. “I was starting to think Connor had murdered you in a hallway.”
“Still breathing,” I say dryly.
“I hate him!” she bellows. “Like really hate him. I hope he lives a miserable life. Not just miserable, long! Really long, really miserable and really mate-less life! It’s what he deserves!”
A few nearby wolves snicker. Someone across the room snorts into their drink.
Wolf hearing. Every word carries.
I laugh. The knot in my chest loosens, just a little.
Mara slides onto the bench beside her, gaze flicking around the canteen before settling on me.
“Maybe don’t declare blood feuds at lunch,” she says lightly.
We’ve known each other since elementary school, but Mara’s always felt more friend adjacent than close.
Her smile is in place, not reaching her eyes.
Tess rolls hers. “Please. If Connor Hale overhears me wishing eternal loneliness on him, that’s a him problem.”
“And seriously Gabs, don’t pay any attention to him. Like, at all! You’re a total babe. Even with the disadvantage of being a redhead.” She winks – unapologetic.
Mara’s gaze flicks to me, then away. “Focus Tessa," she starts, "Haven't you noticed how things are getting weird?”
"Weird how?” I ask.
She hesitates, just long enough to matter.
“People are talking,” she says finally. “About the girls. About how close to home it’s been happening.”
Tess stiffens. “Talking how?”
Mara shrugs, but there’s tension in her shoulders. “Quietly. Like they don’t want to be heard.”
The canteen hums around us, but I notice it now. The way voices dip when teachers pass. Wolves leaning close, murmuring. A group of seniors near the windows arguing in sharp, low tones.
Tess nudges my knee, her expression shifting. “Mara's right. They’re talking about it again.”
I already know what it means.
I follow her gaze, really looking around for the first time. The canteen is full, but there’s an edge to it today – a tension threading through the noise.
Mara pulls out her phone and tilts the screen toward me.
A photo fills it – a smiling girl with auburn hair pulled into a messy ponytail. I recognise her immediately. Two rows ahead of me in maths last year. Loud laugh. Always chewing the end of her pen.
I stare at the photo on the phone for a second too long before forcing myself to look away.
My chest tightens.
Missing didn’t mean gone.
But it didn’t mean safe either.
“They found her backpack,” Mara says quietly. “Near the trailhead.”
The one I cut through when I’m late.
“That’s not funny,” I say.
“I know,” she replies. Too quickly.
Across the room, voices sharpen.
“It’s hunters,” someone mutters.
“No way. The pack would’ve known.”
“Well then someone’s lying.”
A shiver crawls up my spine.
“They’re still acting like everything’s normal,” Tessa mutters.
As if summoned, the principal strides in and steps onto the small platform near the windows. The room hushes in uneven waves. Across the room, a group of older wolves argue in low voices.
“Attention, students.”
The canteen hushes.
He clears his throat, fingers tightening on the edge of the lectern. “As previously planned, the senior retreat will be going ahead next week.”
The reaction is instant, rippling through the canteen.
“What?”
“Are they serious?”
“After what’s been happening?"
“Typical.”
Murmurs continue as Mara exhales slowly. “They can’t cancel it,” she says. “It’s tradition.”
“That’s your argument?” Tess snaps.
“I’m just saying,” Mara replies, quieter now. “The council wouldn’t send us if it wasn’t safe.”
"Enough,” the principal says sharply, raising his hands.
The room quiets – not because we’re satisfied, but because his voice carries the weight of command.
He continues, voice firm, “I understand there are rumours circulating. So let me be very clear. There is no immediate danger to students. Speculation helps no one.”
I don’t miss the way Mara nods.
Ignorant to the mood, he continues, "The council is handling the situation, and additional patrols have already been approved.”
He proceeds to drone on about bonding, tradition – and safety, Tessa twists in her seat to look at me, and whispers, “You still going?”
“I don’t think I have a choice.”
She grins, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. “Perfect. Nothing says ‘safe’ like sending teenagers into the woods.”
“Comforting,” I mutter, as a strange sensation brushes against me.
I exhale, only then realising I’d been holding my breath.
“That was… unsettling,” Tessa mutters.
Before I can reply, someone passes our table.
“They’re lying.”
The voice is casual. Almost bored.
I stiffen.
Connor doesn’t stop walking. Doesn’t look at me. He just keeps moving, hands in his pockets, like he hasn’t deliberately dropped something sharp straight into my chest.
“About what?” I ask before I can stop myself.
He pauses.
Just long enough to turn his head.
“Everything.”
Just then, the bell rings. Chairs scrape. The noise surges back and he’s gone.
Mara gathers her things quickly. “I should– I’ve got history.”
“Already?” Tess asks.
“Yeah.” She avoids my eyes. “Gabs… just– be careful, okay?”
Her eyes flick briefly to where Connor disappeared, then she leaves before I can respond.
Tess watches her go, frowning.
While Connor’s word echoes in my head.
Everything.
And somehow, that feels far more dangerous than any rumour.
Because Connor doesn’t deal in rumours.