Chapter 14 – REGINA
REGINA
Two days later, I'm starting to wonder if the wolves actually want to save their pack or if they're just allergic to reasonable solutions.
I'm curled up on the couch with Eliza Underwood's journal when the front door slams open hard enough to rattle the windows. Killian stalks in first, his expression thunderous, followed by Sean, Micah, and Rowan in various states of dejection.
"Let me guess," I say, not bothering to look up from the faded handwriting. "Another faculty member told you to go fuck yourselves?"
"Professor Johnson said she'd rather swallow hot coals," Rowan reports, dropping onto the armchair like his strings have been cut. "Her exact words."
"Dr. Montclief pretended to have a stroke when I walked into his office," Sean adds, settling on the floor near my feet.
He shoves his head into my hand like a damn dog until I pet him, which is more endearing than it has any right to be.
"I stayed to make sure he was okay, just in case he wasn't faking. He was."
"Coach said he'd sponsor us if we could guarantee zero property damage for the rest of the semester." Micah flops dramatically across the remaining couch space, his head landing in my lap.
"So a no, then," I say flatly.
Micah groans. "He knew what he was doing."
Killian remains standing, arms crossed. "Professor Styles literally ran away from me. Just turned and sprinted down the hallway. She's seventy-three years old. I didn't even know she could move that fast."
"Those new hips are putting in overtime!" Sean says with an enthusiastic clap, earning a glare from Killian.
I close the journal and set it aside, giving them my full attention. "So what you're telling me is that every single faculty member you approached has refused."
"Not refused, exactly," Sean says, staring up at me with puppy-dog eyes. "More like rejected with extreme prejudice."
"My history prof threw a textbook at me," Micah offers. "A hardcover. First edition. That thing was expensive."
"The point is," Killian growls, "we're running out of options. There's got to be someone on this faculty who doesn't actively despise us."
I raise an eyebrow. "Have you considered why so many of them actively despise you?"
"We're lovable," Sean protests. "We're fucking delightful."
"You egged the Dean's car."
"That was a political protest!"
"For what cause?" I challenge.
His face goes blank. "Uh. More… nacho toppings in the cafeteria?"
"You flooded the science building," I add, ticking off their indiscretions on my fingers now.
"That was an accident!"
"You somehow set the swimming pool on fire, according to Sadie."
Sean opens his mouth, then closes it again. "Okay, that one's hard to explain."
"Your sister's a narc," Killian grumbles, turning his glare on Micah.
"Chlorine gas," Micah mutters. "It was chlorine gas, and it wasn't technically fire, it just looked like fire because of the—you know what, never mind."
I look around at all of them, these ridiculous, disaster-prone wolves who somehow became mine. They've been trying so hard to find an alternative, to avoid the one obvious solution that's been staring us all in the face since Ms. Morgan's visit.
"There is one option," I remind them carefully.
They all go rigid. A chorus of growls sounds around the room.
"No," Killian says flatly.
"I haven't even said—"
"Villeneuve." He spits the name like it's poison. "The answer is no. It's bad enough he was here for the bonding."
"Killian, be reasonable—"
"I am being reasonable." He starts pacing, his agitation making the bond between us crackle. "The man's probably some kind of fucking demon shifter."
"Is that even a thing?" Sean asks, frowning.
"No," I sigh.
"Getting him involved in our shit any deeper is a big mistake," Killian continues, ignoring him. "The biggest. And if the last couple of days have made one thing really fucking obvious, it's how many of those we've already made."
"He's already deep in our shit," I point out. "He supervised the bonding ritual. He provided the dragon's blood. He—"
"Which is exactly why we shouldn't give him more influence over us," Rowan interrupts, his usual calm fractured. "Every time Villeneuve helps, he gains leverage. He's playing a long game, and we don't even know what the end game is."
"You're all kind of paranoid," I say, my lips twitching.
"Paranoia is just pattern recognition for things that haven't happened yet," Micah says sagely. "I read that somewhere."
"That's not—" I take a breath, trying to center myself. "Listen, he helped me when I had nowhere else to go. He let me stay in his home. He protected me from Kyle, and he convinced me it was safe to trust you. In his own way."
That last one lands like a nuke.
They all stare at me, and I can tell they don't want to believe it. But they can sense I'm not lying through the bond. It's taken some getting used to, but there are plenty of perks and that's one of them.
"And what did he want in return?" Killian demands, stopping his pacing to face me head-on. "Because people like Villeneuve always want something."
"Maybe he just wanted to help."
The silence that follows is so skeptical it's practically audible.
"He's a shifter-vampire hybrid, and if he's not, that means he's something so much worse, he used that as his cover story," Sean says slowly.
"And he can somehow use magic. Which is impossible.
And he drives an Aston Martin and dresses like a Bond villain.
Bond villains don't just help people out of the goodness of their hearts. "
"That's not—"
"He really could be a demon," Sean continues, warming to his theme. "Or an ancient evil awakened from a thousand-year slumber. Or a time-traveling assassin sent back to destroy us before we can save the world from the robot zombie apocalypse."
Everyone turns to stare at him.
"What? I'm just spitballing here."
"That's stupid," Micah mutters. Finally, I think, someone is being the voice of reason. Then, he ruins it by continuing, "Robot zombies smart enough to take over the world would just go back in time to destroy the guy who invented the time machine when he was a baby."
"Not if they felt bad about laser blasting a baby, dude," Sean counters. "Zombies were people once. They have standards."
Micah scoffs. "Robot zombies weren't people. They're robot zombies. And you have no standards."
"Okay!" I hold up my hands before this conversation can spiral any further into madness.
"Putting aside Sean's fascinating fucking theories, the fact remains that Villeneuve is our only option.
Unless one of you has a backup plan that doesn't involve faculty members literally running away from you. "
More silence. More skeptical stares. But this time, there's something else underneath.
A grudging acknowledgment that I just might have a point.
"He's probably going to ask for something," Rowan says quietly. "Something significant. Are you prepared for that?"
"I'll handle it."
"Regina—"
"I've dealt with manipulative supernatural beings before," I remind them. "Kyle wasn't exactly straightforward either. At least Villeneuve doesn't pretend to be something he's not."
"He literally pretends to be a vampire-shifter hybrid when we all know that's not what he is," Killian points out.
"Fine. At least he's upfront about the fact that he's hiding something."
Killian rakes a hand through his dark hair, the gesture broadcasting his frustration more clearly than words ever could. Through our bond, I can actually feel him warring with himself. His instinct to protect me is straining against his full understanding that we're out of alternatives.
"There has to be another way," he insists, but the fight is draining out of his voice.
"There isn't." I stand up from the couch, forcing Micah to lift his head off my lap. He groans like I just killed him. "We've got five days left before the deadline. Five days. And every faculty member on this campus would rather fake a medical emergency than take responsibility for you four."
"That's hurtful," Sean mutters.
"It's accurate."
I look at each of them in turn. These are my mates. My pack. And they're going to lose everything they've built if someone doesn't make the practical choice.
"What exactly are you afraid of?" I ask, genuinely curious. "That Villeneuve is going to betray us somehow? Use his position as faculty sponsor to... what? Sabotage your grades? Make you do extra homework?"
"He could be gathering intelligence," Rowan suggests. "Learning our weaknesses. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike."
"Strike how, exactly? By giving us a pop quiz?"
"Don't even joke," Sean groans. "The last one was brutal."
"You're not taking this seriously," Killian growls.
"I'm taking it exactly as seriously as it deserves.
" I fold my arms across my chest, mirroring his defensive posture.
"You're all acting like Villeneuve is some kind of supervillain when the reality is he's an occult history professor who happens to be mysterious.
And possibly some kind of misunderstood monster. That's not the same as being evil."
I'm not going to pull the I'm also misunderstood and maybe I want to give him a chance because I know what it's like to be lonely card, but… it's in my back pocket for safe keeping. Just in case.
"Mysterious people are often evil," Sean offers. "Have you never watched a movie?"
"Have you never met someone who just values their privacy?" I ask, arching an eyebrow.
"Those people are definitely hiding bodies."
I throw my hands up in exasperation. "This is ridiculous. You're willing to lose your pack registration, your housing, your entire futures at this university, because you're afraid of a man who wears nice suits and doesn't share his life story with everyone he meets?"
Micah grimaces. "When you put it that way, it does sound kind of unreasonable."
"It is unreasonable!"