Claws at My Throat
SCARLETT O’HARA
I tried to focus on the lecture; God knows I tried, but it was impossible. Every few seconds I felt another set of eyes crawling over me like fingers. The rest of the class kept stealing glances, curious, hungry, and amused. I could handle that. I was the shiny new thing, after all.
But him? The massive blond Alpha lounging just inches away? That was different.
Rhys Valdane never looked away. Not once. Every time I risked a glance, those burning amber eyes were already locked on mine, unblinking, unashamed. It wasn’t curiosity in his stare; it was ownership. Like he’d already decided how I tasted and was just waiting for the bell to prove it.
Alphas were intense; I wasn’t that na?ve. I knew exactly what that look meant—the kind that ended with an Omega bent over the nearest surface, knotted and dripping and claimed. My stomach flipped with equal parts terror and something far more shameful.
I was not here to get pregnant by some psychotic werewolf and throw away everything I’d bled for.
So the second the bell rang, I shot out of my seat like it was on fire, desperate to put as much space as possible between me and those golden eyes.
Big mistake.
When I glanced back, the entire class was still staring. Dozens of predators watching the little human Omega bolt. The hairs on my neck stood straight up.
Creepy didn’t even begin to cover it.
I was already composing the panicked email to Mrs. Silver-Hair in my head—Please, please move me to a different section—when a hand landed on my shoulder.
I yelped, spun around, and nearly took out three passers-by.
“Sorry! We didn’t mean to scare you!” A girl my height winced, pushing the biggest pair of glasses I’d ever seen back up her nose.
Long brown hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, strands escaping around a heart-shaped face and huge green eyes.
She was gorgeous in that soft, bookish way, and her scent—warm sugar cookies—instantly calmed my racing heart. Omega.
Standing beside her was a dark-haired boy, taller than both of us, full lips, warm brown eyes, smelling just as sweet. Then I realized—the Omega who’d been pinned to the wall earlier in class like it was casual sport.
The girl stuck out her hand, sheepish smile widening.
“I’m Lily Hart.”
“Scarlett O’Hara,” I managed, shaking it.
“And I’m Milo Park,” the boy added with a lazy wave and a grin that made him look unfairly cute. “South-Wing Omegas, third floor, just like you. Word travels fast when a human Omega shows up. Figured we’d grab you before someone literally tried to eat you.”
Lily elbowed him hard.
“Don’t scare her on day one, idiot.”
“Too late,” I muttered.
They both cracked up, and for the first time all morning, the knot in my chest loosened.
“Come on,” Lily said, looping her arm through mine like we’d been friends for years. “We’ve got twenty minutes. Locker tour?”
Milo flanked my other side.
“Number?”
“412, I think.”
They stopped dead.
“No way,” Lily squeaked.
Milo’s grin turned wicked.
“That’s smack between ours. 411 and 413. The universe is hilarious.”
The Omega locker bay was a dimly lit hallway bathed in soft silver-gray and lavender scent—probably to stop us from dropping into heat every five seconds around campus Alphas.
My locker was already stocked: books, tablet, gym bag, even a tiny silver wolf sticker on the inside door that made me smile despite everything.
I traced the books with my fingertips.
Finally, something normal.
Milo leaned against the locker beside mine, folding his arms.
“So… I saw you talking to Rhys back there.”
Lily’s eyes went comically wide behind her glasses.
“Wait. Rhys Valdane? Triumvirate Rhys?”
I shut my locker with a soft click.
“Triumvirate…?”
They exchanged a loaded glance that made my stomach sink.
Milo dropped his voice.
“Quick hierarchy crash-course before the bell.”
He ticked off on his fingers:
1. Elites: old money, pure-blood royalty.
2. Legacies: connected, but not quite royalty.
3. Outsiders: scholarship kids like you and Lily. Brains over blood.
4. And then… the Triumvirate.
Lily hugged her books to her chest like a shield.
“Three dominant Alphas who sit at the literal top. Rhys Valdane, Kane Whitlock, and Saint Crowther. Kane and Saint are currently in the reserved Upper Wing. They don’t follow rules—they make them. They are sociopaths.”
I swallowed hard.
“He seemed… fine when we talked.”
Another shared look that screamed girl, you are so screwed.
Lily bit her lip.
“That’s how it starts. They choose something—someone—and they never let go.”
Milo nudged her.
“You’re terrifying her.”
“I’m preparing her,” she hissed.
I turned to grab my next class’s books, and my gaze snagged on Lily’s legs. The skirt was regulation short, but the inside of her left thigh… dark fingerprints, four angry claw marks still scabbed over.
My eyes snapped up.
She was already watching me.
“I’m fine,” she said quietly before I could apologize. “Just one of the things this place forces you to survive.”
Milo’s gaze flicked to the marks, pain flashing across his face.
“Still hurt?”
Lily opened her mouth…
She went rigid.
“He’s here,” she whispered.
A voice slithered down the hallway, lazy and cruel.
“Four-Eyes.”
I whipped around.
A big, dark-haired Alpha, eyes like dirty storm clouds, prowled toward us, two other Alphas trailing like hyenas. His gaze locked on Lily, and every drop of color drained from her face.
He stopped inches away, towering.
“Thought I smelled my favorite little toy.” His voice was syrup over broken glass. His stare dropped to her bruised thigh, and his tongue touched his lower lip. “Healing slow, pet? Want me to freshen those marks for you?”
Lily’s books hit the floor with a thud.
Milo stepped half in front of her, shaking but defiant.
“Back off, Jaxon.”
Jaxon ignored him completely. His fingers snapped out to wrap around Lily’s ponytail like a leash. He yanked her forward; her glasses slid down her nose.
“Eight minutes till bell,” he murmured, tilting her head back. “Plenty of time to remind you who you belong to.”
Lily’s voice cracked.
“Not here… please.”
One of his friends, the taller one with the buzz-cut, laughed low.
“South Wing’s too good for you now, huh? Should’ve kept your legs closed during The purge.”
Something inside me snapped.
I didn’t think. I just moved.
I shoved myself between Jaxon and Lily, shoulder-checking his arm hard enough that his grip loosened for half a second.
“Let her go.”
The hallway went dead silent.
Jaxon blinked down at me like he was noticing me for the first time. His eyes narrowed, scent flaring, ozone and metal.
“Well,” he said softly, “what the fuck do we have here? Fresh meat that doesn’t know the rules.”
His free hand shot out, fingers clamping around my throat—not squeezing, just holding me there, thumb pressing against my pulse. His claws pricked my skin, five perfect points of warning.
“You don’t touch what’s mine, runt,” he whispered, leaning in until I could taste his breath. “And you definitely don’t speak to me.”
Milo grabbed my arm, trying to pull me back, but Jaxon’s friend had already boxed him in against the lockers.
Lily was crying silently now, tears sliding down behind her crooked glasses.
I couldn’t swallow. Couldn’t breathe around the grip on my neck. But I still managed to get the words out.
“She’s not yours.”
Jaxon’s pupils contracted to pinpricks. A low, rolling growl built in his chest, so deep it rattled my ribs.
And then a new voice cut through the air like a blade.
“Take your fucking hand off her. Now.”
Cold. Quiet. Lethal.