Chapter 9
Savannah
Menace told me about his meeting with Bronc and the other officers of the pack.
They knew my identity and that my father was searching for me.
I knew they’d be heading to Alabama to visit the king of this territory to head my father and Dominic off before he could take a stand against Iron Valor.
I felt terrible that I was the cause of this stress for the pack.
They’d already had enough with that Skeeter person sitting in jail, apparently.
Bridger told me it was not my place to worry about pack matters.
He wanted me to concentrate on taking care of myself.
I love him so much. Never in my life had I had anyone put me first. It was a new sensation.
They’d also discussed my future with the pack.
Everyone agreed that taking the job at the elementary school was the best idea.
I needed to fly under the radar as much as possible.
Blending in and hiding in plain sight was the best thing to do.
So today was my first day as the music teacher at Hardin Elementary.
Principal Karen Day’s gaze cut to the mate mark on my neck like a blade, a look of disapproval hardening her features.
“Sawyer Galloway,” she repeated, her voice laced with disbelief.
I felt the weight of her stare as she skimmed my resume, the air between us tense and charged.
Her smile was a dagger wrapped in sugar as she leaned back.
“Bridger,” she said, the name edged with an intimacy that set my nerves on fire.
“Always good to see you.” Her eyes raked up and down his body before returning to me.
“Glad to see he provided me with your credentials this time. Even though he already saw fit to go ahead and offer you the job before consulting with me.” Her passive-aggressive conversation was awkward to say the least.
Her office was sparse and clinical. A stack of papers marked “Requisition Forms” sat on her desk.
After the hell I’d survived, I was determined not to be intimidated by this woman.
I met her eyes, knowing she considered me prey in this cat-and-mouse game.
“When I visited here, you indicated the position was vacant. I assumed you were ready for it to be filled.”
She glanced up at Bridger again, then cleared her throat.
“I’m sure…” She glanced back at my resume as though she’d forgotten my name, “Sawyer Galloway.” She drew out the name like it was a bitter taste.
“You’ll be a perfect fit.” Her lips curled around her sarcasm like a lover.
“Bridger, you seem to have your hands full,” she continued, her gaze boring into me.
“What with your dealership, dealing with hiring staff at the school, and…” she looked again at the mate mark on my neck, “extra-curricular activities as they may be.”
Menace stepped from behind me as anger poured through our bond.
He laughed, a sound as sharp as a razor.
“Seeing as my money funds this institution and I occupy the seat of Director as well, I can make whatever personnel decision I goddamn well please. You’d do well to remember that Ms. Day.
” A look of fear crossed her face, then quickly vanished.
“I’ll be fine,” I assured him as I squeezed his hand, my voice stronger than I felt. The woman’s expression made it clear she would keep an eagle eye on me. He turned to me, and I nodded to him, letting him know I didn’t want him to fight this battle for me.
Leaning down, he gave me a chaste kiss and whispered, “Give ‘em hell, Red,” with a wicked smile on his lips. I watched him leave, my own smile of satisfaction crossing my face. He waved as the door clicked shut. The room felt too large, too empty without him.
“So,” she said, leaning forward. Her curiosity was a trap. “How does one get a man like Bridger Hardin to mark her?”
I took a breath, steadying myself. “You’d have to ask the Goddess about that,” I replied. My pulse raced at the admission. “Seeing as how we’re fated mates.”
“Is that so?” She sat back, feigning surprise. Her smile vanished. “I’d think a man like him would be more selective.”
“I’d be a fool not to have seen Bridger Hardin as the gift he is. But again, we didn’t choose each other,” I said, the words with boldness. I held her gaze, refusing to flinch under her scrutiny. “I’d never question the wisdom of the Goddess.”
Karen’s eyes flicked to the mark on my neck, a sneer in her voice. “You’re very lucky.”
“I’m more than lucky. I hit the mate jackpot.” My voice carried my own sneer.
She thought her dismissal could hurt me. I was a princess. She had no idea the pain I’d endured. The office felt cold as she looked down at my file, avoiding my eyes.
“It’s so interesting. Our Luna, Juliet wasn’t born to the pack either,” she said, her tone turning casual, like she was making small talk. “It’s harder for some people to accept those who aren’t one of us into the pack.” Her meaning hung thick between us.
I bristled at the implication. “If the Goddess chose Bronc’s mate, that should be good enough for everyone,” I replied. My loyalty to Juliet burned fierce and bright.
“Must be nice to feel so confident.” Her voice was sweet poison. “But it’s different here.”
The statement felt like a threat, one I couldn’t ignore.
“Bronc is the Alpha of this pack of which I am now a member. As such, I’d never disrespect my Alpha or my Luna.
" I met her stare, my anger boiling under the surface. "There’s no doubt everyone is at least respectful to them around here, regardless of how they may feel." I needed this job. But Karen’s certainty that I wouldn’t fit in left me raw.
"I promise you, I’ll do my best for these children even if I wasn’t born into this pack,” I said, and I meant every word.
Her eye roll was almost enough for me to walk out. But again, I needed this job. “Yes,” she sighed. “Feelings have to be set aside I guess.”
She smiled, a satisfied smirk that told me she’d always have the last word around here. “Then let’s look at your schedule, shall we?” Her tone was clipped, all business.
The paper she pushed toward me was filled with a map that had boxes and times and room numbers that blurred before my eyes. “Five classes a day,” she said, as though I should be grateful. “Plus a conference period.” Her eyes gleamed with triumph. “And lunch duty.”
The breath caught in my throat. “Lunch duty?”
“For the first week,” she said, dismissing my surprise with a wave of her hand. “To get to know the students.”
I swallowed my anger, my pride, and nodded. “I understand.”
“Good.” Her smile was as icy as her gaze. “I knew you would.”
I left the office with the schedule clutched in my hand, my heart a storm of resentment and determination. The hallways were bustling with children rushing to their classrooms. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as I made my way to my room. My first class started in ten minutes.
The music room vibrated with noise and movement as the first class barreled in, small bodies jostling for the best spots.
My heart pounded with the tempo of their footsteps.
I called roll, names slipping through my mind like water, faces blurring in the chaos.
Their voices ricocheted off the walls, a discordant chorus of excitement and shrill laughter.
Ms. Galloway, I introduced myself, the alias a fragile mask.
We played clapping games, their energy frantic and wild.
I let them loose on small instruments, the sound spilling into the hallways like madness set free.
The children swarmed around me, bright eyes and eager hands reaching for attention.
Their questions tumbled over each other.
“How long have you been a teacher?” “Are we gonna sing?” “Why does your hair look like that?” I laughed, the sound surprising even myself.
The intensity of their curiosity was daunting and thrilling.
“Let’s start with the basics,” I said, trying to herd their energy into something manageable. My own heartbeat matched the frenzy of the room. “Who knows what this is?” I held up a music staff, the symbols as familiar as they were distant.
“Lines!” one child shouted.
“Boring!” another chimed in.
We clapped rhythms, their hands slapping against each other and against desks, the sound sharp and erratic. It felt like I was back in college, lost in a sea of noise and expectations. I showed them treble and bass clefs, and their enthusiasm swelled to a crescendo that shook the walls.
I passed out tambourines, maracas, anything small enough for them to manage. Their chaos became music of its own kind, a symphony of childhood rebellion that echoed in my bones.
The older kids were next, their skepticism a thick cloud in the air. They slouched into the room, eyes rolling, and whispers more cynical than curious. My confidence wavered under their indifference.
“Who are you?” one girl asked, suspicion clear in her voice.
“Ms. Galloway,” I said, forcing the name to sound real.
“Where’s Mr. Davis?” another demanded.
“Gone.” A chorus of disappointment. My grip on the lesson plan tightened. “He’s not coming back.” I kept the tremor from my voice, kept my shoulders squared.
“What do you know about music?” A boy with an attitude that matched my own fears.
“Enough to keep up with you.” I stared him down, feeling the first hint of confidence.
My pulse quickened as I showed them the scales, explained beats and measures. Their interest was grudged, a gift they could take back at any moment.
The two rowdiest boys pushed limits, testing how far they could go. “What’s that mark on your neck?” one asked, his tone as defiant as his posture.
“A bite,” I said, surprising myself with the directness. “From my mate.”
“You’re married?” His shock was almost comical.
“Not quite.” I hid my amusement as his demeanor shifted.
“Who’s your mate?”
“Menace.”