Someone shouted, "There she is!"
We were almost exiting the gage when it happened. The man who stopped us was the Alpha of the Red Moon pack. I knew it from the insignia on his wrist. It was Phil’s father, Alpha Whitmore.
"There she is!" Alpha Whitmore said again, "That’s the girl who’s been lying to everyone!"
Several other parents turned and started walking toward us quickly. They all had angry expressions on their faces. I felt my heart start racing again as they got closer.
"Stop right there," one woman called out. "We want to talk to you, young lady."
The boys immediately moved to stand in front of me, but there were too many parents and they were moving too fast. I thought we were trapped.
That’s when I heard the sound of car doors slamming. Isolde appeared as if she had been waiting for this exact moment. She wore a long black coat and dark sunglasses with her wide-brimmed hat that always conceals her face, and she had four large men in suits with her.
"Excuse me," Isolde said in a cold voice that made everyone stop moving. "What exactly do you think you’re doing?"
Alpha Whitmore, who had first stopped me, stepped closer to Isolde. "Stay out of this. We’re trying to talk to this girl about the lies she’s been telling our children. "
"I see," Isolde replied calmly. "And you planned to do this by cornering a teenager and intimidating her?"
"We just want answers," a woman added.
Isolde smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile. "Let me give you an answer then. If any of you touch my daughter, I will sue you for assault. If you threaten her, I will sue you for harassment. If you so much as raise your voice at her, I will make sure you spend every penny you have on legal fees."
The parents looked shocked. They hadn’t expected someone to challenge them.
"How dare you?" Alpha Whitmore started, taking a step towards Isolde. "How dare a mere human talk down at us? Do you know who we are? Show your respect."
"Respect is a verb," Isolde said. "Show it by taking three steps back, your breath stinks."
Alpha Whitmore took some steps backwards, breathing into his palms.
"Furthermore," Isolde continued, "my lawyers are very good at their jobs, and they love cases . Wealthy adults bullying a teenage girl? The media would have a field day."
As if she had summoned them, reporters started appearing. They must have heard the commotion and come around from the front of the school. Students began gathering too, holding up their phones to record everything.
One of the reporters in a bright blue blazer called out, "Ms Knox, is it true Charis Greye hid under the name Eamon Riggs at Ravenshore? Did you aid and abet—"
Isolde’s gaze slid to her. "Ask me a question that doesn’t break three privacy laws," she said mildly. "I’m sure you have at least one."
The reporter swallowed hard and lowered her mic.
Isolde walked over to me, her guards following to make sure the parents kept their distance. "Are you alright, darling?" she asked softly.
The moment I heard her voice, everything I had been holding in came flooding out.
I shook my head, as my throat tightened with tears. "No."
"Oh, darling," she murmured and opened her arms.
I fell against her shoulder and started crying. My sobbing was so loud that it echoed in the space. My face pressed on Isolde’s shoulders, my body shook as the tears racked through me.
All the fear, anger, and exhaustion of the day hit me at once. I cried for having my secret exposed, for Marcus grabbing me, for the way everyone had stared at me like I was the problem. I cried because I was tired of being strong all the time.
"It’s okay, baby," Isolde murmured, one hand over the back of my head. "You’re safe now."
I could hear people around us shifting uncomfortably. My crying was so raw and desperate that it made everyone realise what they were really looking at - not some dangerous deceiver, but a scared teenage girl who had been through too much.
"This isn’t right," I heard one of the parents say quietly. "She’s just a kid."
"Turn off the cameras," another parent called to the students. "Don’t record this. It’s not fair to capture someone at their weakest moment. You wouldn’t want this of your own child."
"Put your phones down," the woman who had been angry before said firmly. "Right now. This girl deserves some privacy."
"If you have any sense of humanity left," I heard another woman addressing the press, "You’d give her space and not air this. It’s enough that she had to live her life under a guise."
I was dimly aware that most of the phones had disappeared, and some of the reporters stepped back. Even in their anger, these parents were decent people who didn’t want to see a teenager suffer in public.
After what felt like forever, Isolde gently pulled back and wiped my face with a silk handkerchief. "Are you alright now?" she asked.
I nodded, still sniffling. "I think so."
"Good," she said. "Let’s get you home."
She put her arm around me and slowly guided me toward a sleek black car. The crowd parted to let us through, no longer looking angry but uncomfortable about what they had witnessed.
The boys followed behind us. When we reached the car, Kael cleared his throat to get Isolde’s attention.
Isolde turned to look at them and smiled. Her face was partially concealed by her sunglasses and the high collar of her coat, so the boys could only see her lips and a small part of her face.
"We’d like to come with Charis," Kael said politely. "Staying behind would make us worried about her."
Isolde studied them for a moment. "And who are you?" she asked gently.
"We’re Charis’s friends," Slater answered hastiliy, shoving Kael behind him, "and also her dorm mates."
Isolde seemed to think about this for a few minutes.
"Very well," she said finally. "You can ride in the car behind us."
The boys nodded and walked to the second black car that had pulled up. I got into Isolde’s car, grateful to finally be away from all the staring eyes and angry voices.
The drive to Isolde’s house was quiet. I leaned back in the leather seat and tried to calm down. Through the tinted windows, I could see the boys’ car following us.
A few minutes later, we arrived at Isolde’s elegant home. It was a beautiful building with tall white columns and perfectly maintained gardens. This was where I’d recuperated after she rescued me.
As always, the house always left me in awe whenever we drove in.
Two maids came out to meet us as soon as we stopped in front of the building. The front door opened wide, and another maid already had a tray waiting inside that had water, towels and a small bowl of lemon slices.
Rhett and the boys came down from the second car. While the boys stood in silence, Rhett tipped his head back, surveying the place.
"Wow," he clapped his hand with delight. "This place is incredible. I didn’t think contemporary and ancient architecture could be merged this way. Who designed this house for you?" Updates are released by N0velFire.ɴet
Isolde turned to Rhett and smiled. "Alaric Duvall, do you know him?"
"Alaric Duvall?" Rhett murmured the name, and after some seconds, he shook his head. "Never heard of him."
"Well, he’s pretty recent. Started small and is building his practice, of course, but he’s the rave now. Anyone who has seen my house would always ask to reach out to him. Let’s put it this way, I was his first client, discovered him on one of my numerous trips around the world."
"Interesting," Rhett nodded. "I’d like to get his contact, too. Dad has been trying to renovate the pack house into something modern, yet still retain traces of our tradition. I think Alaric would be the perfect fit."
Slater cleared his throat and gave him a look that said ’focus’
Isolde must have noticed the subtle exchange. "I think so too. I’ll give you his contact details before you go. C’mon, let’s go in."
Throughout the exchange, Kael remained quiet, but I could see him taking in every detail of the house and grounds. I wondered what he was thinking.
We entered the house, and as Rhett kept making comments about the interior design, Isolde murmured instructions to the guards before turning to them.
"I’m going to take Charis to her room so she can rest," she told the boys. "You’re welcome to wait in the living room. The maids are preparing the guest rooms in case you’d like to spend a night here."
The boys nodded, and together Isolde and I went inside and up the stairs to my bedroom.
As soon as Isolde closed the door behind us, my pitiful expression completely relaxed. I turned to face her, and we stared at each other for a few seconds.
Then I burst into laughter.
Isolde started laughing too. It was a sound of pure delight and satisfaction.
"How did I do?" I asked, still giggling.
"Absolutely perfect," Isolde replied, wiping away her own tears of laughter. "The crying was a masterstroke. I couldn’t have planned it better myself. In fact, it was so real that I began to pity you at some point."