Chapter 12
Silver
I am the embodiment of stealth. I am a ninja. I am tiptoeing out of my own house in an attempt to avoid pack Larsen, leaving twenty minutes earlier for school than I need to ensure my mission is successful.
I’d mock myself if I wasn’t worried one of the guys will wake up and catch me in the act.
As soon as I’m free, my backpack slung over my shoulder and skating shoes in hand, I damn near jog to my car, locking myself inside its safety in case I’m caught sneaking out. After depositing my baby-blue backpack on the passenger seat, I awkwardly shove my feet into my shoes that turn into skates with just a kick of a button on the back of each shoe, before slowly but surely reversing down the short drive and pulling away from the house.
Since most of my classes today are in the music room, practicing for a performance that will be considered a practical exam and will be graded, my professor won’t mind if I arrive early. In fact, it’s often encouraged. I just like my sleep too much to give it up. Now that I can sleep on my own hours, I make the most of it, even if it means I’m rushing to classes on most days that end in Y.
Parking my car between two trucks, hiding it from view in case pack Larsen come searching for me in another misguided obligation to apologize for their beta, I lock my car up nice and tight before hustling to the music room.
I can take my first, steady breath since waking up this morning as soon as the heavy-set door shuts behind me, blocking the whole world out the moment it’s just me and the instruments. It won’t last long, I'm sure, but for now, I’m going to take advantage of having the large room all to myself.
Beelining straight for the old grand piano stationed atop a slightly elevated podium, I drop my backpack at the left leg before sitting on the bench, push back the fallboard, and stretch my fingers out with an audible crack before resting the tips of my fingers on the ivory keys.
With a deep, steadying breath, I press the first notes of an instrumental version of one of my favorite songs named Atlantic. As soon as the first key is pressed and the first note reverberates through the room, I sink myself into the song, closing my eyes as I play the song with muscle memory alone. I practice and practice, switching notes up or adding more where they’re needed, perfecting the song as much as I can before more students begin to show.
By the time the first student appears, a tall, willowy, pale angel named Pica, I’m feeling confident about my chosen song. Playing the last note, I smile over at Pica and wave. “Hey. How’s it going?”
The shy beta smiles and waves awkwardly, heading over to the cello tucked away in the corner. “Not bad, you?”
I shrug in answer, and it makes her smile with understanding. Sometimes it doesn’t take words to see a person just needs to sit in a music room, pouring their thoughts and feelings into an instrument.
“You’re here early,” Pica notes with her soft tone, checking over her bow meticulously. “Normally you’re the last through the door.”
I huff a laugh, because she’s not wrong. If I don’t need to be here, then I simply won’t be. There’s nothing I can do here that I can’t do at home. Only now there are five dudes I’m avoiding at home and this place is the next best thing.
“Just having one of those weeks,” I laugh, only to remember that it’s Monday and it’s the very first day of a new week.
Pica, bless her soul, pulls a face like she just came to that same deduction, but she simply smiles and carries on with tuning the cello, the conversation drying up quicker than my coochie when I see a man in socks and sandals. Not that it matters, because moments after Pica’s arrival, more students pour in, indicating that it’s time to get serious and learn some shit.
For the first three hours of my day, I spend it surrounded by like-minded people studying the art of music. I forget about pack Larsen for a while, immersing myself into discussions on classical music, practicing a few songs on the violin, and taking notes during lectures.
By the time class lets out early and lunch time rolls around, my belly is rumbling its disapproval for having skipped the pizza last night and bypassing breakfast in order to escape the tension in the house that was palpable even while pack Larsen slept.
Missing my best friend and praying she isn’t with her thundercloud, platonic soul mate, I whip out my cell phone from the pack pocket of my shorts as soon as I’m free of the classroom, kicking the wheels into place on my shoes. The hallways are hella smooth and always make for good skating, and it soothes the hell out of me, so I take to gliding down the halls and ignoring those that choose to stare at a girl wearing white short shorts, an oversized pink hoodie, and a messy bun to slay all other messy buns. All the while, I’m dialing Juniper’s number the moment I’ve unlocked my cell, pressing it against my ear while I listen to it ring.
“Yo, Pixie. How’s it going?” Juno greets as soon as she answers, a little more chipper than she usually is. It’s a nice change of pace, sure, but there’s something in the brief greeting that has me on edge.
Still, I smile, gracefully skating through throngs of people as I answer, “Oh, you know, just skating around with a growling stomach that is begging me for food. You have classes today, right?”
“Yeah. I just had a free period, so if you’re free and want to eat, we can get lunch together. Just you and me,” she offers, once more sounding a little too sweet. I pull my cell back and check the caller ID, and it sure does display my best friend’s name, but I’m half wondering if she’s been replaced with body snatcher or something. Juniper is never this chipper unless there’s something going on.
“Just me and you? No shadow of yours, no usual stragglers?” I prod, sure I know what’s going on already but wanting my best friend to spell it out for me.
“Just us, Pixie. We can chat, you can vent, we can plot murders if that’s where we’re at,” she offers, and I come screeching to a halt, almost colliding into a tall guy, and alpha if I’m scenting him correctly, the guy’s hand coming out to stop me in time to prevent a crash between us.
Clenching my jaw, I force myself to take a deep breath before I finally ask, “So, how much do you know?”
“All of it,” she answers quickly, and I can just picture her wincing right now.
“Who told you?” I prod, wanting to know which of them discussed what happened the past weekend with my best friend and what they’ve said that has her acting out of sorts.
Clearing her throat, she hesitates before finally answering, “Munro.”
“You’re shitting me?” I blurt, sure I heard wrong.
“Shit you not. He called last night and I almost killed him for it. What is with you guys and calling after midnight? I’m going to have to put a rule in place for that shit,” Juniper grouches, and I roll my eyes.
“Opting for Do-Not-Disturb on your cell is always an option,” I remind her for the billionth time.
There’s a few seconds pause before Juno curses. “I forgot I could do that. Anyway, you want to meet up for lunch and tell me all the ways you plan on murdering Munro?”
Just as I’m about to agree, feeling like I’m in dire need of a good venting session and finding no better option than my best friend and the asshole who put me in this predicament to begin with, I spy a body I never thought I’d see in walking the halls of the music department.
The devil in question is walking toward me, coal black eyes already planted on me as though he’s on a mission. I look around quickly, checking to see if there’s somewhere I can hide. Aside from a passerby’s pocket, I’m shit out of luck. Cursing, I mutter down the line, “Looks like I’m not making lunch.”
“Oh, you got a class or something?” Juno wonders, and I’m shaking my head even if she can’t see it.
“Nope,” I breathe, eyeing Munro as he practically marches down the hallway toward where I’ve stopped moving entirely. “Looks like I’m about to receive a lecture from the male version of you, though, and the dude looks pissed.”
Juniper gasps. “That’s where he is? That asshole told me he had something important to do. I swear, Silver, I would have warned you if I knew terrorizing you was his ‘something important.’”
I snort, because she sounds genuinely troubled by this new development, so I quickly rush out, “If I don’t show up to lunch at all, it’s because I’m dead. Munro Villin killed me and is already burying my body under the football field. Look for me in no more than twenty minutes, Juno, lest I become a segment on Brewing Murders.”
“I’ll kill him if he kills you,” she quickly promises. “I’ll avenge you, I swear.”
“Make sure it’s brutal,” I hiss, pulling my cell away from my face and hanging up quickly just in the nick of time.
Munro is standing before me not a second later, a scowl on his face, though not one as severe as the one he wore yesterday. He stands tall, a head taller than me even in my skates, and I’m forced to strain my neck to look up at him, noting his swirling, midnight eyes, inky-dark curls on his head, and the dark circles beneath his eyes. Even though it’s fainter than an alpha scent, I can still catch hints of his pine and citrus aroma, and I hate that it affects me in any capacity because I’ll be damned if it doesn’t make me feel like a bigger idiot than I already woke up feeling like.
“Can we talk?” he asks, direct and straight to the point.
“Nope,” I answer just as directly, unable to think of anything worse than having to deal with Munro’s bullshit today. A weekend of it was enough for me, thank you very much.
Munro sighs like he expected such an answer, and it makes me wonder why he even tried it in the first place. It’s not like I was going to suddenly roll over, flash my belly, and let bygones be bygones. I’m not a fucking dog in desperate need of fussing.
“Please, Silver?” he pushes, and my mouth parts slightly in shock. I don’t even remember a time where he called me by my name. It’s always a derogatory term of endearment, primarily princess , like he’s always mocking my wealth without having to do so in so many words. “Just ten minutes of your time to explain a few things.”
As appealing as discovering a few things about Munro sounds, I’m less thrilled about the prospect of talking to him in general. I’ve had my fill of thrilling conversation with this man, and I simply don’t have the urge to put myself back in a position where he can accost me for his pack’s failings again.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I declare, “I think we’re past the point of explanations. I don’t want to hear what you have to say, so save it. Whatever is happening here, stop it. It’s freaking me out, for one, and secondly, it’s a waste of both of our time. Whatever guilt you’re feeling today, it’ll pass, and you can move on with your happy, little pack life and rest assured that I won’t be an issue for you any longer.”
Munro groans, and it sounds so much more like him that my shoulders relax slightly from their tense form. Only for my body to grow taught once more as he says, “Look, I just wanted to apologize and ask for a truce—“
“A truce? You’re shitting me, right?” I blurt, gaping at the guy. “The call is coming from inside the house, dude. You realize the animosity is all one-sided, right? If you want to offer a truce to anyone, let it be yourself. I don’t want it, because I have no plans on talking to you again. I don’t care what little discussions were had when I left, don’t care for whatever guilt-induced epiphany you’ve had, either. Just because I cried once doesn’t mean you have to suddenly pretend like you give a shit about my feelings.”
“Silver, that’s not what this—”
“Spare me, Munro. Go back to ignoring me, because I think I prefer that to you using your words. Those fuckers hurt,” I interrupt once more, shaking my head before pushing away from him and skating away like I’m not a mess of disappointment. I mean, what does Juno have that I don’t? Why does he hate me so much? Why does it seem like I’m never enough for anyone? I certainly wasn’t enough for my own parents, a pack that should have loved me for who I was and am no matter what. Munro didn’t even give me a damned chance before he wrote me off. Sure, him explaining why might soothe the hurt, but I've simply passed the point of willingly putting myself out there only to be spoken to like shit. So, fuck him and his gnarly attitude.
“Silver!” Munro calls, and several heads turn in his direction.
“Your apologies mean nothing to me!” I call back, throwing a middle finger up over my shoulder and ignoring another pleading call of my name, despite the toxic, little thrill I get at the sound of my name coming from his mouth. “Shove them up your ass and enjoy the rest of your day kicking kittens and pushing kids over after stealing their ice creams.”
“I don’t do that,” I hear him mutter to passerby’s before I’m disappearing around the corner the next moment, and I don’t stop skating until I’m outside the cafeteria, kicking my skates back into my shoes and pausing outside for a moment to catch my breath. I’m pausing a little longer when it dawns on me that Aero, Rage, and Haze could be sitting with Juno and her pack eating lunch, like they often do. Do I really want another run-in with more members of pack Larsen? Absolutely not.
Guess I’m eating in the library.
Walking to a vending machine filled with chips, chocolate, and snacky bits, the machine stationed just outside the cafeteria, I buy several sweet treats and stuff them into my backpack before popping my wheels out and skating to the library. Before I head inside, I kick the wheels on my shoes back into hiding and enter the blissful solitude of silence.
Miss Favero is seated behind her desk, oversized, clear-rimmed glasses on her face as she frowns at her computer. Heading in her direction, I pause and quietly greet, “What did the computer do to you to put that look on your face?”
Zira Favero flinches so hard that she knocks her glasses loose, startled eyes bouncing to me while her hand slaps her chest with an audible thwack and a sharp inhale of shock. Her omega-sweet banana split scent turns tart for all of two seconds before she realizes it’s only me standing behind her desk, and she drops her hand.
“Silver. You scared me,” she breathes, slumping in her seat.
I can’t help but chuckle, only feeling a little bad. After all, Miss Favero and I have grown somewhat close over the past few weeks. I spend almost as much time in the library as I do the music room, and Miss Favero and I always seem to gravitate to one another when we’re nearby. She’s sweet, fun to talk to, and is close enough to my age that I don’t feel like a child talking to an adult every time we chat. Only five years my senior, Zira Favero is the youngest employee at North Five University, with her gorgeous, fiery-red hair, youthful good looks, abundance of freckles, and five inches of height on me. She’s basically a giant to me, which isn’t exactly a hard feat to reach, since I’m a mere five foot exactly.
Grinning, I say, “Sorry. You looked like you were in an intense debate with whatever is on your screen.”
Huffing a quiet laugh, she shakes her head and explains, “I was just looking into a medical procedure. Did you know it costs between fifty to two hundred thousand dollars for a heart valve replacement? Maybe more, depending on where you go and which surgeon you choose. Even the type of valve could end up costing more money.”
Shaking my head, I eye the librarian with a pinch of worry, and I mutter, “Can’t say I did know that.”
“Extortionate, right?” she mumbles, eyeing the computer monitor again like it’s the bane of her existence, all while the worry in my chest expands. Does Miss Favero have a heart problem? Does Barnes know?
Leaning my arms on the desk, I lower my voice until it’s a decibel just above a whisper and ask, “Is everything okay, Miss Favero?”
Her pretty, pale-green eyes peer up at me and she nods slowly with a pinched brow, confusion painting her face. “Why wouldn’t I be oka—? Oh! Oh, no, it’s not for me.”
She laughs when I breathe out a sigh of relief, my shoulders dropping suddenly while my head grows a little lightheaded. “Okay, so I guess we’re even then. I scare you, you scare me. Why are you looking into heart valve replacements?”
Hiding her smile by placing her chin in her hand as she rests her elbow on her desks, she explains, “It’s for my mom. We were told last week that she needs a heart valve replacement after she started seeing symptoms that something wasn’t quite right. Sleeping more, short of breath just walking up the stairs, that sort of thing. I’m just looking into how much it’ll cost if her insurance doesn’t cover the surgery.”
Damn, that sucks.
“You don’t think they will?” I wonder, my thoughts running a mile a minute. I wonder if Barnes is aware of this, because I don’t doubt that if he likes this omega as much as I think he does, especially if he’s keeping her a secret from the others for now, then there isn’t a single doubt in my mind that he would pay for the surgery without batting an eyelid.
“Not sure. We’re waiting to hear back from the hospital,” she answers, shrugging like it’s not a big deal, but the tightness around her eyes gives away her true feelings on the matter. That, and the sour bite that seeps into her otherwise fruity and sweet scent.
Opting not to pry, because it’s none of my business, I simply nod and state, “Well, I hope your mom is okay and she gets the treatment she needs.”
“Thank you, Silver,” she sweetly replies, smiling softly. “Anyway, what brings you here instead of the cafeteria. It is lunch time, right?”
I snort. “Yeah, it is. I just figured it was safer here than anywhere else right now.”
“Safer?” Miss Favero frowns, sitting up in her seat. “Is anyone giving you trouble, Silver? Do we need to go to the Dean?”
And that’s why, other than Barnes, this woman is my favorite employee at this fine establishment. Miss Favero cares, and she cares deeply. She wears her heart on her sleeve, has all the time in the world for any and all students, and won’t hesitate to jump in and help should we need it. She’s the best.
I’m already shaking my head, assuring her, “No, everything is fine. I’m just avoiding a pack that pissed me off. I’m not good at ignoring them, apparently, so I’m onto the next best thing.”
“Ah, avoidance,” she quips, smiling with a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Well, in that case, there’s a table in the far back that is empty. I think there’s only one or two students in that section, so if you want to hide there, I’ll tell anyone who might come looking for you that I haven’t seen you at all. Sound good?”
If it wasn’t inappropriate and highly frowned upon, I would reach over this damned desk and kiss the woman. I’m not even into women, but I would do it, because damn it if the librarian isn’t the coolest person in my world right now. Juno will have to regain the title, especially since she’s no doubt hanging out with the objects of my avoidance.
“That would be perfect. Thank you, Miss Favero,” I sigh, smiling gratefully.
She waves her hand in dismissal, and confides, “Don’t thank me. Trust me when I say I get it. I’ve been there, done that. You go hide and enjoy your lunch. You were never here.”
With a wink that makes me smile, she goes back to staring at her monitor, and I meander off with my smile still in place.
That smile dies a slow and painful death when I turn the corner toward the empty spot Miss Favero directed me in, my feet stalling the moment my gaze connects with a set of deep, honey-glazed irises that warm when they connect with mine.
“Silver,” Pace greets, his deep baritone sending shivers through me, causing my heart to beat irregularly, and a little drop of perfume slips free before I can bottle my emotions.
“Ah, fuck.”