DAMIEN POV
My phone buzzed for the hundredth time in ten minutes.
"Can't wait to see you tonight" - Ashley
"Save me a dance?" - Rebecca
"Miss you baby" - Someone whose name I'd already forgotten
I stared at the messages and felt absolutely nothing.
"You look thrilled," Marcus said from my bedroom doorway. My best friend walked in without knocking, like he'd done since we were kids. "Big party tonight. Beautiful girls throwing themselves at you. Living the dream, right?"
I tossed my phone on the bed. "Right."
"That was convincing." Marcus sat in my desk chair, studying me with those annoyingly perceptive eyes. "What's wrong with you lately? You've been weird for weeks."
"Nothing's wrong." I turned back to my closet, pretending to care which expensive shirt to wear. They all looked the same to me now. "Just tired."
"Tired of what? Your perfect life?" Marcus's voice had an edge. "Because from where I'm standing, you have everything. Money, looks, women lining up. You're about to become Alpha of the most powerful pack in North America. What could possibly be missing?"
Everything. The word hit me hard, but I shoved it down deep where I kept all the other uncomfortable truths.
"You sound like my father," I said, pulling out a black shirt. "Next you'll tell me to 'act like an Alpha' and 'stop embarrassing the family name.'"
"Maybe your father has a point." Marcus stood up, and I could hear the frustration building. "When's the last time you actually cared about anything? Or anyone? You go through girls like they're disposable. You skip pack meetings. You act like everything's a joke."
"Because it is a joke!" The words exploded out before I could stop them. "You want to know the truth? I hate my life. I hate waking up knowing exactly how every day will go. I hate pretending to care about which trust fund princess I'm supposed to charm at dinner parties. I hate that everyone looks at me and sees a title and a bank account instead of a person."
Silence filled my massive bedroom. Marcus stared at me like I'd grown a second head.
"Then change it," he said quietly.
"How?" I laughed, but it sounded broken even to my own ears. "I'm Victor Blackwood's son. Everything's already planned out. My education, my future mate, my entire life. The only choice I get is which girl to take home on which night, and even that feels meaningless."
My phone buzzed again. Another girl. Another empty flirtation.
"You need to grow up, Damien." Marcus's voice was harder now. "I get that you're struggling with something. But using people as distractions? That's not who you want to be."
Before I could respond, my father's voice boomed from downstairs. "Damien! Get down here!"
Marcus gave me a look that said we'll finish this later and left.
I took a deep breath and headed downstairs, sliding my mask back into place. Smile ready. Charm activated. Empty inside.
My father stood in the main hall wearing a suit that probably cost more than most people's cars. Victor Blackwood didn't do casual, even in his own home.
"The caterers need final approval," he said without looking up from his tablet. "And I've invited the Hartley family early. Celeste will be here in twenty minutes."
My stomach dropped. "Dad, I told you. Celeste and I are done."
"You've said that before." His ice-blue eyes—the same ones I saw in the mirror—finally met mine. "You break up, you get back together. It's what you do."
"Not this time."
"Then find someone else appropriate." He waved his hand dismissively. "The Morrison girl. The Chen Beta's daughter. I don't care. But tonight, you will mingle with the right families. You will smile. You will represent this pack with dignity. Understood?"
The right families. The right girls. The right future.
"Understood," I said, because what else could I say?
My father left, already on his phone making important Alpha decisions. I stood in the hall of our mansion—our massive, expensive, empty mansion—and felt like I was drowning.
My wolf stirred restlessly inside me. He'd been agitated for weeks, pacing and growling for something I couldn't name. Connection. Purpose. Something real.
Three more hours, I told myself. Get through the party. Smile. Play the part. Then tomorrow you can figure out why everything feels so wrong.
My phone buzzed again.
But this time, the message made my blood run cold.
"Your little scholarship rat is planning to crash your party tonight. Thought you should know. She doesn't belong in our world, and it's time someone taught her that lesson permanently. - A Concerned Friend"
My wolf snarled, protective instincts flaring for reasons I didn't understand. I didn't even know who they were talking about at first. Then it hit me—Isla Monroe. The girl everyone loved to hate. The omega who'd somehow become target number one for the elite wolves at school.
I'd never paid much attention to her. She kept to herself, studied constantly, avoided pack social circles.
So why did this message make my hands shake with rage?
Why did the thought of someone hurting her make my wolf push forward, demanding action?
Another text came through, this time with a photo. Isla walking across campus, completely unaware she was being watched. The caption read: "Let's make graduation night memorable."
Something was very wrong.
I dialed Marcus immediately. "Get to the mansion. Now. And find out who's planning something for tonight."
"What? What's going on?"
"Someone's targeting a student." My wolf was barely contained, pushing to shift, to hunt, to protect. "Isla Monroe. They're planning something at the party."
"The scholarship girl? Damien, what—"
"Just do it!" I hung up and stared at the photo again.
Who was watching her? Who sent this? And why did every instinct in my body scream that I needed to find Isla Monroe before something terrible happened?
The party was in three hours.
I had no idea if that would be enough time.
Or why I suddenly cared so desperately about saving someone I'd never even spoken to.