Chapter 3. Red String of Fate

Liam

The world stands still.

All air has been sucked out of the room, making it impossible to breathe. I’m left standing dumbstruck—stranded on an island with no visible shoreline in the distance to come and rescue me. My heart thrums with an unfamiliar stutter, a resonating feeling that soon becomes apparent it’s another heartbeat falling in time with mine.

Hers.

The duality of this moment strikes me as ironic. My mate, sitting mere feet from me in my own classroom, among my other students. The goddess sure has her tricks up her sleeve, as well as a dark sense of humor.

The girl’s eyes widen enough that I fear they may pop right out of her skull. Crimson irises, the color of a blood moon on a harvest night. Rumored to be a gift from the moon goddess herself for such devout servitude. Only one pack possesses them—only one given such a divine acknowledgment.

I’d know those eyes anywhere.

Lovett.

A growl ripples up through my chest, threatening to burst out of me at the sight of my mortal enemy in the very flesh sitting in front of me. Such a thing can’t be detected by human ears, not at this frequency, but it has the girl in front of me flinching instantly, her keen ears picking up on the building anger rising within me.

Her long blonde hair falls in waves over her shoulders, curled at the ends loosely. Her heart-shaped face, so lovely to look at, reminds me so deeply of the man who betrayed my own family, who slaughtered dozens of my pack and enslaved the rest. Those same red eyes that I stared into for the very last time by a man I thought I could trust who betrayed us all before he destroyed everything that I loved.

A relative of Cyrus Lovett showing up here in my classroom is no accident. Almost ten years to the date of the fall of my family—that can’t be a coincidence.

To my surprise, however, the girl moves first, quickly gathering her things and shoving them into her backpack before standing up from her desk. Her eyes are kept low to the ground, a submissive pose—meant to throw me off? To prevent me from dragging her out into the hallway and attacking her?—as she darts around the front row and then up the ascending steps to the back entrance of the classroom. The entire room is silent as they watch her go, her deskmate looking even more bewildered than the rest of them.

As soon as the door’s latch clicks into place, I can finally breathe again. The tugging in my chest is painful, enough to almost have me considering running after her, if not for the sheer need to see my fated mate once more. To be near her and to touch her, regardless of the fact that she may be here to kill me.

Did Cyrus know or suspect that before he sent her after me? It wouldn’t surprise me. He’s played dirty before to get what he wants. What’s one more travesty compared to the horrific crimes already under his belt?

“Um, professor?” someone calls, their hand raising.

It breaks me out of my stupor. “Let’s begin.”

The rest of class, I’m barely able to focus, too far removed from my reality here and much too concerned with the eager tugging of a bond I never agreed to awaken. I suppose it isn’t bad enough that my fated mate is significantly younger than me; it had to be more dramatic than that.

Moon goddess above…

By the time class ends, I’m exhausted.

The first week of a new semester always drains me. I love teaching, I love learning, and I love being in an academic environment. But I hate introductions and getting to know people, even if those “people” are my students. I’ve never been one for small talk or superficial relationships, much preferring to get down into the thick of it versus wasting my time beating around a topic.

This added complication with my mate far exceeds the normal worn-out fatigue I usually am forced to carry and adds another layer to an already tangled mess.

If this is indeed an assassination attempt, I need to do something quickly before my mate can gain the upper hand. I can’t allow her to exploit my weakness simply on the grounds of knowing it’s there.

I’ve been hiding from Cyrus Lovett for over a decade now. I’ll be damned if I let him kill me now.

After gathering my things, I’m out the door before any of my students can catch me and pull me into a conversation. If the administration has an issue with it, I’ll deal with them later. Preferably while I’m still breathing.

The hall leading out to the main part of the building and into the courtyard is packed with students and staff, the hustle and bustle of a new year and new season in full swing. Normally, I’d be inclined to enjoy the nice weather or stop by the campus’s cafe to snag a coffee on the way to my office, but with no way of knowing where my mate has gone and what she’s planning, I need to work as quickly as possible.

Figuring out what her plan is before she can act on it will be the only thing that keeps me from losing my life after such painstaking measures were taken to ensure I keep it.

One of my coworkers lifts a hand in the air as I pass by, trying to flag me down. Her guttural scoff at being blatantly ignored doesn’t go unnoticed but will have to wait. I don’t have time for any of this.

As soon as I spot my office door, my hand is quickly shoved into my pocket to retrieve the keys. To my surprise, there is no clicking sound when I unlock it, though, through the frosted glass, I can see no light has been turned on.

Perhaps one of the janitors came by to grab my garbage on their route. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve neglected to lock my door behind them.

Pulling in a deep breath, I don’t smell any lingering scents around here. None that would indicate my mate’s come around looking for me. That, at least, eases me a bit.

I still have time.

The hinges on my door creak softly as it swings open, light from the hallway spilling into the dark room, giving me enough to quickly find the switch by the door and flick it on.

What I see next stuns me into freezing completely.

Across the way, sitting on my couch is my mate.