16: 16/It’s the feral little cat!
16: 16/It’s the feral little cat!
Chapter 16 The cold tines of the fork froze between Roxy’s steady fingers.
She swallowed the last bite of her meal with an affected politeness, drawing out the pace until the air in the dining hall stretched taut.
She didn’t glance at the omega sitting across from her.
Instead, she let her gaze linger cold and indifferent on the girl’s trembling hands and pale face.
Roxy picked up a linen napkin.
She dabbed the corner of her lips with a calm, deliberate sweep, exhaled a soft breath, and shoved her empty plate toward the center of the table.
She rose from her seat, every movement dripping with haughtiness.
Reaching up, she adjusted the crisp collar of her white school shirt, then swept her fingers through her auburn hair, tossing the heavy locks over her shoulder.
Before taking her first step, she raked the dining hall with a sharp, gray gaze.
Students hiding behind their plates dropped their heads instantly.
She pivoted on her heel and stroled away, leaving an uneasy silence trailing in her wake.
The day had begun under a gloomy sky, heavy gray clouds swallowing the sunlight overhead.
Since classes wouldn’t officially start until tomorrow, following the welcoming banquet scheduled for tonight, Roxy took the opportunity to explore the academy’s corridors and map out its hidden corners.
She walked at a measured pace down the endless halls, studying the towering arches and the cold bronze statues of massive direwolves frozen mid-battle.
The surrounding air carried a strange mix of scents the heavy, suffocating musk of male dominance clashing with an architectural blend of modern polish and ancient, primal stone.
She drifted deeper into the abandoned east wing, where the student chatter dwindled and deep shadows stretched between carved wooden doors.
Stopping before a massive window overlooking the inner courtyard, Roxy rested her palm against the freezing marble sill.
She had expected gloomy stone fortresses, yet the architecture outpaced human universities in sheer modern scale while fiercely retaining its wild edge.
Silence stretched for seconds, broken only by the whistling of the wind outside.
Then, light, hurried footsteps echoed behind her in the deserted hallway.
She didn’t turn around, holding her ground with manufactured rigidity.
Within moments, four bodies boxed her in—three young men and a sharp-featured girl with malice glinting in her eyes.
They were lower-level students, yet their stances radiated a desperate urge to flex their dominance and carve out a reputation.
One of them stepped forward with a heavy gait, crossing his arms over his chest.
A mocking smirk twisted his lips.
“The arrogant human is wandering the academy…” He tilted his head, taking a step closer.
“…like she owns the place.” Roxy tilted her head slowly.
She washed their faces with a dry, gray stare entirely devoid of fear.
“Get out of my way.” She didn’t shift an inch.
“I’m not in the mood to waste time on trash.” The girl’s eyes narrowed with bottled fury.
She snapped a sharp nod toward the two thugs beside her.
“Grab her!” Roxy tried to spin around to lash out with a swift strike, but the two males lunged with raw physical strength that far surpassed her human frame.
One of them locked her arms behind her back in a steel grip a jolt of agony shooting up her shoulder while the girl slammed a hand hard over her mouth, choking off her breath.
Roxy fought back with every ounce of her energy.
She drove her knees and body backward, digging her heels into the floor, but the yawning physical chasm between a human and a hybrid made her struggle look futile.
They dragged her violently toward a small wooden door at the end of the dark corridor, used as a cleaning supply closet.
One of them kicked the door open and shoved her viciously inside.
Her stomach slammed hard against the edge of a rotting wooden shelf, knocking the air out of her lungs.
Brooms and supplies clattered around her in the dark.
Before she could regain her balance, one of the guys yanked a thick rope from the floor.
They jerked her hands behind an iron pillar bolted to the wall, lashing her wrists together with viciously tight knots that scraped her skin raw.
The girl lingered at the threshold, watching Roxy’s rapid chest movements.
A cruel, satisfied grin spread across her face.
“Let’s see how you handle the welcoming banquet now, human.” She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe.
“You’re staying right here until your precious pride rots in the dark.” Roxy lifted her head.
Despite the sharp sting in her wrists, her chin jutted up in defiance.
“You think a bit of rope changes anything?” Her eyes pierced through the dark.
“You’re nothing but cowards.” The young man slammed the heavy wooden door shut with a terrifying boom.
The key scraped twice in the lock, followed by their echoing laughter fading down the hall.
Absolute darkness swallowed the cramped closet, leaving behind only the sound of her steady breathing, the sharp reek of dry chemical cleaners, and suffocating dust.
She strained against the ropes, testing the fibers as they bit into her skin, but her gray eyes remained fixed in the pitch black with absolute coldness.
Not a single tear slipped down her cheek.
Instead, a confident, mocking smirk curled her lips.
Roxy settled into the closet’s blackness, pressing her exhausted spine against the cold stone wall.
The stale air choked her lungs, yet her breathing refused to stutter.
The silence stretched, broken only by the rough hiss of rope rubbing against her raw skin every time she tested the slack.
Minutes crawled by, each second meticulously counted and filed away in her head with razor-sharp patience.
She wasn’t wasting energy waiting for a rescue; her mind ran cold and analytical, dissecting the layout of the academy and the wolves crawling through its halls.
Out in the nearby corridor, Zane strolled with a lazy, arrogant swagger, his hands laced behind his back.
His inner wolf stalked restlessly through his consciousness, his hyper-sensory receptors pulling stray signals from the air the friction of coarse rope, thick dust, and a familiar, intoxicating scent trapped behind a locked wooden door.
The wolf froze abruptly inside Zane’s mind, letting out a dry, mocking snarl.
*(Hold on, Zane!…
That scent…
It’s the feral little cat!
The smell is bleeding right out of this pathetic door.
Looks like someone just taught her high-and-mighty pride a little lesson!)*
Give me more motivation!