Maria.
I hurried toward Beta Torin, my steps quick and purposeful, my head already bowing as I approached him. Respect ca automatically, engrained, instinctive. I lowered my gaze, muttered a greeting I barely felt, and then moved past him, intent on heading straight for the gate.
I just needed to leave.
I needed distance.
I needed air.
But I had barely taken a few steps when everything happened at once.
In a flash, so fast I didn’t even register the movent, Beta Torin stepped forward. His presence shifted behind , sudden and commanding, and before my body could react, his palm struck my back.
Hard.
The impact exploded through my spine with brutal force. I felt sothing shift, felt my breath tear out of my lungs as pain ripped through . My knees buckled, and I lurched forward, a sharp, tallic taste flooding my mouth. I barely had ti to gasp before I spat blood onto the ground.
The world tilted.
For a second, all sound faded, replaced by a ringing in my ears and the violent pounding of my heart. Pain radiated outward from my back, spreading like fire beneath my skin. I clenched my fists, forcing myself not to collapse completely, forcing my legs to hold upright.
I hadn’t been expecting it.
Not from him.
Beta Torin was known for being calm. Reserved. Controlled. He wasn’t reckless or cruel, he acted only when necessary. And sohow, in that mont, that knowledge hurt almost as much as the blow itself.
Maybe that was why I didn’t cry out.
Maybe that was why I lowered my head instead.
I straightened slowly, swallowing the blood lingering on my tongue, ignoring the way my body scread in protest. My chest rose and fell unevenly as I forced the words past my lips.
"I apologize for my misconduct."
My voice was quiet, low and empty.There was no anger in it, no resentnt, just acceptance.
He stepped closer, and when he spoke, his tone was firm, unyielding, but not raised.
"It’s good that you understand," he said. His face was stern, unreadable, carved from duty rather than emotion. "I was just doing my job by reminding you."
Reminding of my place.
Reminding of the rules.
Reminding that no matter what I felt, no matter what had been done to , I was still expected to bow, to submit, to endure.
How cruel fate was to !
I nodded, bowing my head once more despite the pain flaring through my back at the movent. Respect demanded it. Survival demanded it.
Without another word, I turned away from him.
I moved faster now, quicker, more determined, pushing through the ache, ignoring the stiffness settling into my spine. I couldn’t let him reach the gate before . I wouldn’t.
Each step was a quiet act of defiance, even if it looked like obedience from the outside.
And so I walked on, blood wiped away, pain buried deep, leaving Beta Torin behind as I headed straight for the gate.
The mont I reached the gate, my eyes found him.
Guest 117 stood there alone, waiting quietly, his posture calm and composed, as though he had all the ti in the world. For a brief second, I forgot the ache in my back, forgot the bitterness still clinging to my chest. Instinct took over.
I gasped softly and quickened my pace.
The rules were clear. Guests were not to be kept waiting.
As I approached him, he greeted respectfully, his voice low and polite. I bowed imdiately in return, lowering myself as protocol demanded, then bent forward to pick up his luggage. My movents were careful, controlled, every action drilled into through repetition and fear.
"Welco," I murmured, keeping my gaze down as I reached for the handle.
But sothing made pause.
I straightened slowly and lifted my head, and in that instant, my breath caught sharply in my throat.
Shock rippled through .
The man standing before was no stranger.
He was Alfred Noah.
The na echoed in my mind as mories I hadn’t invited surged forward. Back when I was still attending classes, before everything went wrong, before the incident that forced to quit—he had been there. Always there. Hovering around with those oversized glasses perched awkwardly on his face, watching from a distance that felt uncomfortable.
I had thought he was weird back then.
No matter how many tis I rejected him, how clearly I told him no, he never truly backed off. He had been persistent in a quiet, unsettling way, always showing up, always trying again. Eventually, I stopped paying attention to him altogether.
But the man before now...
He was different.
The familiar traces were still there, the sa posture, the sa presence but everything else had changed. The glasses were gone, revealing sharp, striking features I hadn’t noticed before. He looked more confident, more refined. Handso, even. Not the awkward boy I rembered, but a man who carried himself with quiet assurance.
For a mont, a bitter thought crossed my mind.
What a pity.
The girl who had rejected him so many tis back then was nothing more than a rogue now, standing at a gate, carrying luggage, bowing her head to those who mattered.
I pushed the thought aside quickly. It didn’t matter.
What mattered was the question rising insistently in my mind.
What was he doing here?
My fingers tightened slightly around the luggage handle as confusion settled in. I studied him again, searching for answers in his expression.
Weren’t only Alphas invited?
The realization lingered heavily in the air between us as I stood there, frozen in shock, staring at a past I hadn’t expected to et again, especially not at the gate of a place I barely survived anymore.
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