My eyes drift across the gymnasium.
Taking in details.
Cataloguing information.
The arrangement of the volleyball courts. The location of the exits. The clusters of students and the social dynamics they represent. The way certain Alphas stand slightly apart from others, marking themselves as pack leaders or lone wolves or something in between.
There.
My gaze catches on a familiar figure across the room.
Sage.
He's standing with a group of Alphas—no, notwiththem, exactly. Morenearthem. Close enough for social acceptability but maintaining enough distance to suggest he's not part of their hierarchy.
His pink hair is unmistakable.
Bright against the darker shades around him, like a beacon sayinglook here, pay attention, this one is different.
He's wearing the same sportswear as everyone else—dark shorts, a fitted t-shirt that shows off arms more muscular than I expected—but somehow he makes it look deliberate. Artistic. Like everything about his appearance is a carefully curated performance.
As if sensing my attention, his head turns.
Our eyes meet across the crowded gymnasium.
Something passes between us—recognition, acknowledgment, the particular awareness of bonded individuals who can feel each other's presence without trying.
His lips curve.
Not quite a smile.
More like a promise.
See you soon, the expression says.We're here. You're not alone.
Then his attention shifts, responding to something one of the nearby Alphas says, and the moment breaks.
But the warmth in my chest lingers.
He's watching out for me.
They all are, probably.
When has anyone ever watched out for me before?
The thought is dangerous.
Soft.
The kind of thing that leads to hope, which leads to disappointment, which leads to the particular kind ofdevastation that happens when you let yourself want something you can't have.
Don't get attached.
This is temporary.
Remember the deal.
But it's hard to remember deals when your bonded Alpha is across the room, looking at you like you're something precious.
