Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
RIANN
The dean's office hasn't changed since the first time I saw it nearly two years ago.
It has all the charm of a study you'd expect to find in an old, uppity school building.
Every darkly-stained wood surface in the room is dusted and polished, every book on the shelves perfectly arranged like little soldiers meant to defend the highest standard of omega education.
The strong smell of aged paper and treated leather crowds my senses, and the dean is droning on about the importance of integrity.
Neither he, nor the two professors lurking in the corner, believe me when I say I didn’t know the truth about my designation when I enrolled in the Woodside Omega Academy.
They think I’m lying.
How would I even know what a delta was if only one other person has ever been recorded in the world?
Besides, the research center said they discovered the fourth designation last year, well after I enrolled.
Do they think I did some kind of elaborate research to sneak into their prestigious establishment?
Do they think that I—a nineteen-year-old academy student—am suddenly a designation expert?
I roll my eyes at the audacity.
Just because I missed handing in a few reports from the previous clinics doesn’t mean I’m lying. They all said the same thing anyway.
Inconclusive. Undetermined. Undesignated.
None of them could figure out what was wrong with me, despite countless work-ups and tests. How the hell was I supposed to know?
My gaze drifts to the left, where sunlight is creeping in through the half-open blinds.
I can just make out a sliver of the quad, a huge spread of grass and trees where Ziel and I hang out when it's warmer. Now, with the distinct threat of winter approaching, all the trees are bare. But at least it’s not as cold as Boston.
Boston.
The word strikes a chord in me, but I stave off the unpleasant thoughts encroaching on the edges of my mind.
I've done well to keep my mind off of everything, but it isn't because I don't want to remember it all.
With the threat of my expulsion looming over my head, I can't take any more heartache right now.
Once I'm sure of my future with the academy, then maybe I'll start to relive my memories and let myself heal—
“Miss Saunders.”
My eyes snap back to Mr. Schwartz to find him leering at me over stacks of my medical records on his desk. He's broad and bald, with far more intimidating aura than a beta has any right to have. A wisp of a gray mustache curls over his thin lips.
If he didn't have the same, icy eyes as my best friend, I’d struggle to believe they're related. They look nothing alike.
“Are you even listening?” he asks, a distinct edge to his voice.
Shit.
I was letting my mind wander again and missed whatever he said. I really should be paying attention and trying to stay on his good side, considering he holds my entire academic future in his hands.
“I’m sorry,” I say with a wince. “Can you repeat that?”
“I asked if these were all the documents from the Buchanan Clinic?” he repeats, looking less than impressed.
I nod, not even wanting to hear the name of the research center.
“That's everything.”
“Hmm, how curious.” He sounds disappointed more than anything else. It’s exactly the same way he sounded the last time I sat in this chair.
When the academy doctor worked out I had a rut last month, he reported it straight to the dean, who dragged me into this office while I was having a mental breakdown. He probably thought I was lying then too.
“I truly am sorry, Miss Saunders. This is a school for omegas. I can't allow you to continue your enrollment here at the academy unless you are confirmed to be an omega.”
An invisible hand wraps around my heart and squeezes at the verdict, cutting off the air to my lungs.
“I'm not not an omega,” I argue, biting my tongue to keep a lid on my temper.
“But you are alpha-presenting. There is no guarantee that the other students would be safe, no matter how many suppressants we put you on.”
“Safe? I’ve been here for over a year and I’ve never caused a single problem.
” The words spill out of me as I try to keep my voice from trembling.
I refuse to cry in front of these snobby assholes.
“Being an omega is all I’ve ever known, and I can still become one with a bond. Please, Mr. Schwartz…”
Nausea grips me as his eyes fall back to the documents spread before him. He’s kept them all in a nice, neat folder, documenting my disastrous journey from the first day of my rut all the way up to my most recent diagnosis.
Fear slithers up my spine, and I chew my bottom lip nervously.
If they kick me out, maybe I could find a pack willing to adopt me. Ziel said he met a filthy-rich alpha at a club the other day. Maybe I could pitch them a sob story so they claim me. I can graduate from the academy, then break the bond. Assuming I survive it.
I'd rather do it with someone Ziel knows than a random alpha I picked up off the street like I threatened Skylar with. Guilt stabs me in the heart, and my fingers clench on my thighs.
Mr. Schwartz flips to the next page, his lips pursing as he contemplates. Meanwhile, I silently pray to every new god and old that he gives me this chance.
Without the academy, I have nothing.
Maybe Skylar could call them and explain it better than the documents can. The thought is fleeting as it crosses my mind. Just thinking about her has a fresh ache throbbing in my chest.
She’s partly to blame for why I’m in this mess; she could have claimed me, made me an omega, but she refused. But I can’t be angry with her, not really. Her logic was sound; I was the one being irrational.
But if she wanted to help, to ensure I didn’t get thrown out of Woodside, wouldn’t she have at least called? I left my message with the secretary, and she can’t lie and say she lost my number. It’s all over my records at the research center.
No. The reason Skylar hasn’t reached out is clear as day, even though I’ve done my best to not think about it. I fucked up; I said horrible, awful things to her and drove her away.
Why would she help me after all that? Why would she even want to speak to me?
She wouldn’t.
“Fine,” the dean continues. “I believe I understand the situation now.” He clears his throat before meeting me with a hard stare.
“There is a winter formal alpha mixer in the Gamma building two weeks from now. You may attend to see if you can find a suitable partner. If you find someone to claim you so you become an omega, you can continue at the academy.”
My mouth drops open as I look at him, but I can tell from his expression that he’s actually serious.
“And if I don’t?” I ask.
“Then you will be unenrolled.” His face is as emotionless as his tone.
“You think I'm just going to find random alphas to pack up with?” I glare at him over the top of his tidy desk. “Isn't that what you warn us not to do?”
“You have extenuating circumstances, dear,” one of the professors in the corner croaks. She’s a tall, willowy woman with a large nose and bushy eyebrows. “We have to think about what’s best for all our students.”
I don’t even bother looking in her direction.
“I know a lot of omegas place stock in the idea of a scent match and a happily ever after, but this is your future we're talking about,” Mr. Schwartz says.
“Find yourself a nice, young alpha; there will be plenty attending the mixer.
You're a beautiful girl, Riann—I'm sure one of them would be willing to give you their mark.”
It doesn’t matter how high profile the dean is, he's still a beta.
Someone could explain alpha and omega instincts to him a million times, and he still wouldn't get what I mean when I say I want a mate, not just someone who will benefit me short-term. I want a partner, someone who’s going to love me for me, someone who wants me so badly that they’d risk everything to be with me.
Not someone to sink their teeth into me like a piece of meat to fix my problem.
It’s such a fantasy, straight out of a fairytale, and I’d expected Skylar to do it just because I asked.
I bite my lip, chasing the thought of her away. I can’t keep pining over her like I am; whatever blossomed between us clearly withered in the very same hotel room, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
“There's no way I'm doing that. I'm not just letting the first alpha who spots me sink his teeth into me.” I snap my mouth closed, swallowing the rest of my defiant retort.
The dean takes a slow breath.
“There is a limit to our graciousness, Miss Saunders, and you are nearing the end of it. We've let you take time off to visit all these clinics while still being enrolled in the academy, but this can’t continue now that we have a definitive answer.” He levels me with an intimidating stare.
“You have one last chance. Resolve the problem of your designation or your time at the Woodside Omega Academy is over.”
He folds his hands on the desk, indicating that he’s as done with this conversation as I am.
“Thanks so much for everything,” I say with a touch of sarcasm. I don't stick around long enough to see if he catches it.
I kick back my chair as I rise, flashing the three of them a sickly-sweet smile before turning my back and making for the door.
I just have to hold it in. Hold in my need to scream until I get back to my room, then I can let it all out again.