Then Marcus stepped closer, his brows wrinkling with concern.
"Hey, are you alright?" he asked gently. "Is there a problem? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."
I managed to shake my head, not trusting my voice if I spoke.
"Are you sure?" Marcus pressed, the lines on his forehead deepening with worry. "You seem really shaken up. Are you a new student? Transfer maybe? This place can be pretty overwhelming at first. If something is wrong, you can tell me."
Again, I shook my head, finally finding enough control to speak. "I’m fine," I managed, my voice coming out softer and more feminine than Eamon’s had ever been. "Just... finding my way around."
"Fine?" he repeated softly, like he didn’t believe me. His gaze lingered for a heartbeat longer, studying me. Then he sighed, stepping back. "Alright. ...take care, okay? Don’t push yourself."
"Also, if you need any help, I’m Marcus Webb, and I’m the Student President." He smiled warmly; it was the same genuine expression I remembered from countless interactions as Eamon. "What’s your name?"
"Charis," I whispered, then cleared my throat and repeated it with more confidence. "Charis Greye Knox." Get full chapters from novel⸺fire.net
His eyes widened slightly at the name—probably recognising the prominent pack lineage—but he didn’t show any sign of connecting me to his dead friend.
"You’re Alpha Silas Greye’s daughter? The one who was missing?" he asked.
"Wow!" he chuckled. "I didn’t know you’d been found. Your father raised a lot of ruckus looking for you. I’m glad you’re okay now, and it’s nice to meet you finally, Charis. Welcome to the madhouse." He gestured around at the dormitory corridor.
"Fair warning—the room assignments this year are completely insane. They’re mixing everyone regardless of gender or pack status. It’s going to be chaos."
"I heard," I said, grateful that my voice was steadying. "Change can be... difficult."
"That’s one way to put it," Marcus laughed. "Anyway, I should let you get settled. But seriously, if you need anything—directions, advice about which professors to avoid, whatever—ask around for me. I’m happy to help."
He headed toward the elevator, and I stood there watching him go, my heart still racing. When the elevator doors closed behind him, I collapsed against the wall, gasping silently and finally allowing myself to breathe.
That had been too close. If Marcus—who had known Eamon intimately—had looked at me for even a few more seconds, he might have started putting pieces together. I would need to be more careful, more aware of who might be around corners or in common areas.
I walked faster down the corridor, hoping not to run into anyone else who might recognise something familiar about me. The room numbers counted down as I passed: 215, 213, 211, 209...
Finally, I reached room 207.
I stood outside the door for a moment, gathering my courage. Whatever was waiting for me on the other side, I was ready. I had to be prepared. Too much depended on my ability to maintain this new identity and execute Isolde’s plan.
I was about to ring the bell when I noticed the door was slightly ajar. Voices drifted out from inside—male voices, familiar in a way that made my chest tighten with emotion I’d thought I’d buried.
Pushing the door open slowly, I stepped inside and immediately stumbled backwards in amazement.
They were all there—all three of them.
Kael stood near the window, his dark hair catching the afternoon light as he surveyed the spacious room. Slater was examining the couches in the sitting area, testing all four of them by sitting on each. Rhett leaned against the wall near the door, his arms crossed and his expression thoughtful.
They were talking, their voices carrying the easy familiarity of long friendship, and for a moment I was transported back to all those evenings we’d spent together as Eamon.
I gripped the doorframe, trying to breathe through my mouth.
"This place is massive," Slater was saying, bouncing slightly on the mattress. "Four separate bedrooms, a common area, a full kitchen, and two bathrooms. It’s more like a luxury apartment than a dorm room."
"The accommodations aren’t what concern me," Rhett replied with suspicion I remembered so well. "I don’t believe for a second that the system randomly selected the three of us for the same room assignment."
Kael turned from the window, nodding in agreement. "Someone wanted us together."
"But why?" Slater asked, standing up from the couch. "What would be the point?"
"Control," Rhett said immediately. "Keep us close, keep us monitored. If we’re planning anything related to our investigation, it’s easier to watch us when we’re all in one place."
"Or," Kael suggested quietly, "someone thinks we need each other. That we work better as a unit than separately."
Slater laughed, but he wasn’t entirely happy. "Well, they might as well add Eamon to complete everything. Then we’d really be back where we started."
The casual mention of my former identity made me feel strange. I gripped the doorframe tighter, overwhelmed by the complex emotions surging through me—grief for the boy they still mourned, guilt for the deception I’d perpetrated, and a desperate longing to tell them the truth.
That’s when Slater suddenly turned toward the door.
Our eyes met across the room, and I watched as his face went completely ashen. His mouth fell open slightly, and his entire body went rigid with shock.
I stood there staring at him, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to do anything but let him see me—really see me—for the first time since that terrible night I’d been arrested.
Rhett and Kael noticed Slater’s reaction immediately. They turned to him with concern, following his gaze toward the doorway where I stood frozen.
"Slater, what’s wrong?" Rhett asked urgently. "What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a—"
"Slater?" Kael stepped closer to his friend, worry evident in his voice. "What is it? What’s wrong?"
Slater lifted his hand with agonising slowness, his finger trembling as he pointed directly at me. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper, shaky with disbelief.