Chapter 6
Chapter six
Cole's had been given an office on the third floor of the administration building.
I'd never been there before. Our interactions had always happened in neutral spaces—the Healing Center, the grounds, the clearing during the run. His territory was new to me.
The hallway was quiet when I arrived. Most of the administrative staff had gone home for the day, leaving the building feeling hollow. My footsteps echoed against the tile.
I was here for a follow-up security meeting. Cole had requested it through Rae—formal, professional, no explanation. Just a time and a room number written on a slip of paper.
I'd almost said no.
After the walkthrough, after the way he'd pulled away from me every time the bond tugged between us, I wasn't sure I could handle another hour of his careful distance. But Rae had given me a look that said this wasn't optional.
So here I was.
His door was at the end of the hall. A brass nameplate read Len Cole, Security Coordinator. The door was cracked open, a sliver of warm light spilling into the corridor.
I raised my hand to knock.
And froze.
His voice drifted through the gap. Low. Tense. He was on the phone.
"—can't keep this from her forever."
I should have knocked. Should have announced myself. Should have done anything except stand there like a statue, holding my breath.
I didn't move.
"She doesn't know what she is." Cole's voice was rough. Strained in a way I'd never heard before.
My heart stopped.
"If it triggers, it'll happen fast. We both know that. One day she's fine, the next—" He broke off. I heard him exhale. "I've seen it before. You've seen it before."
Silence. Whoever was on the other end was speaking, but I couldn't make out the words.
"No." Cole's voice hardened. "I won't let it happen the way it happened to you. I don’t care. She's not going to end up like—"
He stopped.
I heard footsteps inside the office. Moving toward the door.
I should have run. Should have pretended I'd just arrived, was just about to knock. But my legs wouldn't work. My whole body had locked up, frozen by the words still echoing in my skull.
She doesn't know what she is.
If it triggers, it'll happen fast.
I won't let it happen the way it happened to you.
The door swung open.
Cole stood there, phone still in his hand, face draining of color as he saw me.
Neither of us spoke.
The silence stretched between us like a wire pulled too tight. I watched his expression shift—surprise to realization to something that looked almost like grief.
He knew I'd heard.
"Lumi." His voice was careful. Measured. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough."
He closed his eyes. Just for a second. When he opened them, they were guarded again. That wall back in place.
"Come inside. Let me explain."
"Explain what?" The words came out sharp. Brittle. "That I'm dangerous? That something's going to 'trigger' and I'm going to—what? Hurt someone? Kill someone?"
"It's not that simple."
"Then make it simple." I was shaking now. Could feel it in my hands, my voice, my chest. "Tell me what I am, Cole. Tell me what you’re so afraid of."
He didn't answer.
"You said she doesn't know what she is. You were talking about me." I stepped closer. He didn't back away this time. "So tell me. What am I?"
His jaw tightened. I watched him war with himself—the part that wanted to speak fighting against something stronger. Older. Whatever loyalties bound him, they were winning.
"It's not safe for you to hear this yet."
"Not safe?" I laughed. It came out wrong. Cracked. "For who? Me or everyone else?"
"Lumi—"
"No." I stepped back. Put distance between us because if I didn't, I was going to scream. Or cry. Or both. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to look at me like I'm a bomb about to go off and then tell me I'm not allowed to know why."
"I'm trying to protect you."
"From what? Myself?" The word tasted bitter. "That's what you meant, isn't it? That's why you keep pulling away. You're not afraid of hurting me. You're afraid of what I might become."
He didn't deny it.
That was the worst part. He just stood there, silent, his face a mask of carefully controlled pain. The bond between us—that quiet, patient thread I'd felt since we met—pulled tight. I felt his anguish through it. His fear.
Not of me.
For me.
It didn't make it better.
"I trusted you," I said. My voice broke on the last word. "I felt something between us and I thought—I thought maybe—"
I couldn't finish.
"Lumi, please." He reached for me.
I stepped back. Out of range.
"Don't."
"Just let me—"
"I said don't."
I turned and walked away.
He didn't follow.
I made it to the stairwell before the tears started.
They came fast and hot, blurring my vision as I stumbled down the steps. I didn't know where I was going. Didn't care. I just needed to move, needed to put as much distance as possible between me and that office and the words I couldn't unhear.
She doesn't know what she is.
What was I?
The question had been haunting me for weeks. The missing records. The erased classifications. The way the ferals responded to me like I was something more than human, more than wolf.
Now I had my answer. Sort of.
I was dangerous.
Something inside me was waiting to trigger. To snap. To turn me into whatever Cole had seen happen to someone else.
I won't let it happen the way it happened to you.
Who had he been talking to? Who else knew what I was—what I might become?
I pushed through the door at the bottom of the stairwell and found myself outside. The evening air was cold against my wet cheeks. I wiped at my face with my sleeve, tried to pull myself together.
Failed.
The sobs came harder. I ducked around the corner of the building, pressed my back against the brick, and let myself fall apart.
Everything I thought I knew was wrong. Every answer I'd found just led to more questions. And the people who had those answers—Cole, Silas, maybe even Rae—were keeping them from me. Protecting me from myself.
Like I was a child. Like I couldn't handle the truth. Like the truth would break me.
Maybe it would.
I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the cold ground, knees pulled up to my chest, face buried in my arms. The bond with James flared—concern, alarm, the urge to come find me. I pushed it down. Couldn't deal with that right now.
I didn't know how long I sat there. Long enough for the tears to slow. Long enough for the cold to seep through my jeans and settle into my bones.
Long enough to feel completely, utterly alone.
I snuck back to my room through the side entrance.
The hallways were mostly empty. I kept my head down anyway. Didn't want to see anyone. Didn't want to explain the red eyes or the tear-stained cheeks or the hollow feeling in my chest.
Our door was closed when I reached it. I fumbled with the key, hands still shaking.
Inside, the room was dark. Ivy wasn't there. Small mercies.
I closed the door behind me, dropped my bag on the floor, and crawled onto my bed without bothering to take off my shoes. Pulled the blanket over my head like I was five years old again, hiding from monsters.
Except the monster was me.
The tears started again. Quieter this time. Exhausted sobs that shook my shoulders but didn't make a sound. I cried until my head ached and my throat was raw and there was nothing left inside me but emptiness.
The door opened.
I didn't move. Didn't look up. Just lay there under my blanket, hoping Ivy would think I was asleep.
"Lumi?"
Her voice was soft. Worried.
I didn't answer.
The mattress dipped as she sat on the edge of my bed. I felt her hand rest on my back, warm through the blanket.
"I ran into James in the dining hall," she said quietly. "He said something was wrong. He could feel it through the bond but you weren't answering his texts."
I'd turned my phone off. Hadn't even thought about it.
"You don't have to talk about it." Her hand moved in slow circles. Soothing. "I'm just going to sit here, okay? You don't have to say anything."
The kindness cracked something open in my chest.
Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks. I couldn't have spoken even if I wanted to. My throat was too tight, my breath coming in hiccups that I couldn't control.
Ivy didn't push. Didn't ask questions. She just sat there, hand on my back, presence steady and warm.
At some point, she kicked off her shoes and lay down beside me. On top of the blanket, her body curved around mine like a shield.
"Whatever it is," she whispered, "you're not alone. You know that, right? Whatever's happening, you don't have to face it by yourself."
I wanted to believe her.
I wasn't sure I could.
I woke up hours later.
The room was dark. Ivy was still beside me, her breathing deep and even. At some point she'd fallen asleep too, her arm still draped protectively over me.
My eyes were swollen. My head pounded. But the tears had stopped.
I lay there in the darkness, staring at nothing, trying to make sense of everything that had happened.
Cole's words kept replaying in my head. Over and over, like a song I couldn't get rid of.
She doesn't know what she is.
What was I?
I'd asked the question so many times. In Tomlinson's study, surrounded by books that had no answers. In Neal's arms, searching for comfort in his touch. In Silas's presence, hoping the visions would show me something useful.
Nothing. Every door I opened led to another wall.
But now I knew the walls weren't accidents. They'd been built deliberately. By people who knew what I was and had decided I couldn't handle the truth.
If it triggers, it'll happen fast.
Something was inside me. Waiting. Some power or curse or classification that had been erased from every record, hidden from every archive. And when it woke up—if it woke up—it would happen fast.
Too fast to stop.
I won't let it happen the way it happened to you.
Someone else had gone through this. Someone Cole knew.
Was that my future? Was I going to end up like whoever he'd been talking to? Another cautionary tale, another name erased from the records so no one would have to remember what happened when someone like me lost control?
The thought made me sick.
I slipped out of bed carefully, trying not to wake Ivy. Padded to the window and looked out at the campus below.
It was late. Past midnight, maybe later. The grounds were empty, the paths lit by scattered lamps that cast pools of yellow light in the darkness. Everything looked peaceful. Normal.
Nothing about my life was normal.
I pressed my forehead against the cold glass.
The bonds hummed in the back of my mind. James—worried, wanting to come to me. Stone—restless, sensing my distress through our connection. Neal—a steady pulse of concern. Cal—quiet, watchful.
And underneath them all, that thread I couldn't name. The one that connected me to Cole.
He'd pulled away from me because he was afraid. Not of the bond between us. Of what I might become.
I understood that now.
It didn't make it hurt less.
Ivy stirred behind me.
"Lumi?" Her voice was thick with sleep. "What time is it?"
"Late. Go back to sleep."
She sat up instead. I heard the rustle of blankets, the soft thud of her feet hitting the floor.
"You okay?"
I didn't answer. Wasn't sure what the answer was.
She came to stand beside me at the window. Didn't say anything. Just stood there, shoulder to shoulder, looking out at the same empty campus.
"I overheard something," I said finally. My voice sounded strange. Hollow. "Cole was on the phone. He didn't know I was there."
Ivy waited.
"He said I don't know what I am. That something's going to trigger and when it does, it'll happen fast." I swallowed. "He said he wouldn't let it happen to me the way it happened to someone else."
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know." The words scraped against my throat. "He wouldn't tell me. Said it wasn't safe for me to hear yet."
Ivy was quiet for a long moment.
"That's bullshit," she said finally.
Despite everything, I almost laughed. "Yeah."
"No, I mean—" She turned to face me. Her eyes were fierce in the dim light. "You have a right to know what's happening to you. They don't get to keep you in the dark because they think they're protecting you. That's not protection. That's control."
"Maybe they're right to be scared." I couldn't look at her. "Maybe whatever I am is too dangerous. Maybe I'm—"
"Stop." Her hand found my arm. Squeezed. "You are not dangerous. You're Lumi. My roommate. My friend. The one who risked her life to save feral wolves."
"Ivy—"
"Whatever's inside you, whatever they're so afraid of—it doesn't change who you are. It doesn't make you a monster." She squeezed harder. "And anyone who tells you otherwise can go fuck themselves."
The tears were back. But different this time. Warmer.
"I don't know what I am," I whispered.
"Then we find out." Ivy's voice was firm. Certain. "No more waiting for them to decide you're ready. No more accepting their bullshit excuses. We dig. We push. We demand answers."
"And if we don't like what we find?"
"Then we deal with it." She pulled me into a hug. Held on tight. "But we deal with it together. That's what friends are for, right?"
I hugged her back. Let myself lean into her warmth, her certainty, her stubborn refusal to let me fall apart.
"Right," I said.
We stood there for a long time.
Outside, the campus slept. The paths stayed empty. The lamps burned on, small lights against the darkness.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, underneath all the fear and confusion and hurt, one question kept circling. The same question that had haunted me for weeks. The one I still couldn't answer.
What am I?