The week crawls by like a slow-motion nightmare, each hour stretching into an eternity of quiet, agonizing discipline. I am a woman of my word, and I am sticking to the plan I carved out in the dark of my apartment.
I treat Killian Blackwood like a ghost; an entity that haunts the room but holds no physical space in my reality. I don't call on him to answer questions, I don't look at his desk when I'm pacing the aisles, and I don't let my eyes linger on the back of his head during silent reading periods.
I am the perfect, clinical instructor, a statue of professional decorum.
Killian, in turn, has become a model student. But he isn't doing it for me.
He is charming in a way that feels like a serrated blade. He is focused, intense, and constantly huddled with Seraphina Sterling in the back row of my classroom. They have become an inseparable unit, a golden pair that draws the eyes of every other student.
They whisper during my lectures, their heads bowed together in a private world of shared secrets and inside jokes that I will never be part of. Every time she laughs; a bright, musical sound that cuts through my voice and reaches out to touch his arm, a fresh wave of visceral pain slices through me.
It's a sharp, physical sting that makes my wolf pace the cage of my ribs until I feel bruised from the inside out.
I told him I wanted this. I stood in that silver-lit ballroom and told him he should be with his peers. I told him to stay away from me, to respect the boundaries of the academy, and to leave the 'teacher' alone.
I should be relieved that he's finally listening. I should feel a massive sense of safety now that his predatory, golden stares have stopped pinning me to the whiteboard. I should be sleeping better at night knowing that the High Alpha heir has found a suitable girl to occupy his time.
Instead, every morning I walk into the classroom feels like walking into a cold, dark room where the heat has been cut off. The lack of his attention isn't a relief; it's a hollow, gnawing ache in the very center of my chest.
It turns out that being hunted by him was terrifying, but being forgotten by him is unbearable. It's a different kind of death; one that happens slowly, one ignored glance at a time.
My wolf is mourning a loss she wasn't supposed to have, her spirit breaking under the weight of his indifference.
The bell rings, signaling the end of the Friday afternoon session, and the sound is like a starting pistol. I begin packing my leather bag as quickly as possible, my movements jerky and frantic. I am desperate to escape to the quiet, lonely sanctuary of my apartment before I lose my composure in front of twenty teenagers. I just need to get through the door. I just need to be alone so I can finally breathe.
"Ms. Moon?"
I freeze, my hand halfway inside my bag. My heart stops for a beat, then thunders back to life. It's not his voice. It's hers; high, clear, and perfectly pitched.
I force myself to look up, my neck feeling stiff as stone. I find Seraphina standing at my desk, looking every bit the Golden Girl in her perfectly tailored uniform. She radiates a kind of effortless, sun-drenched confidence that makes the air around her feel warmer.
Killian is standing a few feet behind her, leaning casually against a row of lockers. He has his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed and bored. He's looking out the window at the swaying pines, looking like I don't exist, looking like I'm just part of the furniture he's waiting to move past.
"Yes, Seraphina?" I say, forcing a polite, plastic smile onto my face. My voice sounds tight, like a wire stretched to its breaking point.
"I'm still catching up on the curriculum since I joined the semester late, and Killian mentioned he's struggling a bit with the last essay too," she says.
Her eyes are bright, blue, and seemingly innocent, but there's a spark in them that makes my skin crawl.
"I was wondering if you'd do us a huge favor? Since we both need the help, could you supervise an extra tutoring session for us after hours? Just the two of us, so we can study together in the library?"
The request is a knife to the gut, twisted slowly for maximum effect. She wants me to sit there and watch them. She wants me to facilitate their 'togetherness,' to provide the quiet, intimate atmosphere of the library after school so they can lean over books and share whispers under the guise of my professional duties. She's asking me to be the audience for her victory.
I look past her, my gaze involuntarily snapping to Killian. He finally turns his head, his golden eyes meeting mine for the first time in what feels like an eternity. There is no warmth in them right now.
No recognition of the bond. No secret heat or predatory hunger. There is just a cold, flat, and utterly distant stare that dares me to say no. It's a challenge; a way of showing me that he has moved on to exactly where I told him to go. He is standing behind her like a silent shadow, letting her do the talking while he watches me bleed.
"Of course," I whisper. My throat is so tight it hurts to speak, and the words feel like ash in my mouth. I am trapped by my own mask. I am the 'helpful teacher,' and a helpful teacher doesn't say no to a struggling student; especially not a Sterling and a Blackwood.
"I'll see you both in the library at six."
Seraphina beams, a radiant, victorious smile that makes my wolf snarl in the back of my mind.
"Wonderful! See you then, Ms. Moon."
She turns and tucks her arm into Killian's, pulling him toward the door. He goes willingly, walking with that lazy, powerful gait, never looking back at me once.
I stand behind my desk, clutching a stack of papers until they crinkle, the scent of cedar and rain fading as they disappear into the hallway. I wanted professional silence, and now I have it. But as the clock on the wall ticks toward six, I realize that the silence is going to be the loudest thing I've ever heard.