BEYOND THE CAMPUS WALLS

Chapter 6: Tangled Lies and Bruised Pride

ARIANA’S POV

I jolted awake, my body snapping upright like a string pulled taut. My chest heaved, lungs clawing for air, but each gasp rasped into a dry, hacking cough. Tears stung my eyes as I choked, the room spinning, a throbbing ache pulsing behind my temples. I gripped the edge of the bed, knuckles whitening, until the dizziness ebbed and my heartbeat slowed, thumping less like a war drum. The air smelled sharp—antiseptic, bitter pills—and sunlight slanted through cracked blinds, painting stripes across the white walls. The clinic. I was in the clinic.

My shoulders sagged, a shaky breath escaping me. Safe. The word settled over me like a blanket, frayed but warm, until a deeper chill crept in—those yellow eyes, glinting in the dark, claws scraping concrete. My hands trembled, and I hugged my elbows, the memory of that thing chasing me down the corridor clawing at my mind. Logan’s fist, his roar, had driven it back, but the fear lingered, a shadow I couldn’t shake.

I scanned the room, seeking something solid to anchor me. The nurse’s desk sat in the corner, cluttered with files, a steaming mug of coffee sending curls of vapor into the air. She wasn’t there, but the warmth of that cup meant she couldn’t be far. Footsteps echoed faintly down the hall—soft soles on tile, voices murmuring. My ankle ached, wrapped in a tight bandage, and I winced, shifting under the thin sheet. How had I gotten here? Logan must’ve brought me after I’d blacked out, but where was he now?

A sharp voice sliced through the quiet, loud enough to rattle the door. “About time she woke up!” It was brassy, demanding, and my stomach twisted.

I pulled the sheet higher, hoping it was meant for someone else, but the door flew open with a bang, and in stormed a brunette—face flushed red, eyes blazing. Bella. I recognized her from tryouts, her sleek ponytail and pinched scowl unmistakable. She wore a black tank top, a gray sweater knotted around her waist over denim shorts, and her fists clenched like she was ready to swing.

“You f*****g slut,” she spat, jabbing a finger at me, her voice echoing off the walls. “I know what you did with Logan.”

My breath caught, confusion crashing over me like a wave. I blinked, brow furrowing as I sat up straighter. “What… what are you talking about?” My voice came out small, raspy from the coughing fit, and I hated how weak it sounded.

She laughed—a bitter, jagged sound—and tossed her head back. “Oh my God, you’re good. Playing dumb like that. Manipulative little freshman, just like they said.” Her lip curled, and she took a step closer, her sneakers scuffing the floor.

“I think you’ve got the wrong person,” I stammered, my mind racing.

Tryouts—her glare across the mat, the way she’d sneered when I’d landed captain. That’s where I knew her from, but this? This made no sense. I shook my head, exhaustion tugging at me, and turned away, sinking back into the pillow. “Leave me alone.”

“Don’t you dare,” she snarled, and before I could brace myself, she ripped the sheet off the bed. The fabric yanked against my legs, nearly dragging me with it, and I gasped, clutching the mattress to steady myself.

“What the hell?” I snapped, my voice sharpening as I glared up at her. Her audacity lit a spark in me, but it sputtered fast. She towered over the bed, her chest heaving, and her words hit like a slap.

“You think you can play coy after spreading your legs for my Logan?” She paced, throwing her hands up, her voice rising. “My man, Ariana. Mine. And you—some cheap, attention-starved cheerleader—had the guts to f**k him in his car last night.”

Ice flooded my veins, my jaw dropping. Logan. Last night. The backseat, his hands, his growls—how did she know? My face burned, shame and fury tangling in my gut. I pictured him bragging, smirking over a beer, spilling every detail to get back at me for running.

“Who told you?” I whispered, my glare pinning her, my hands balling into fists.

She froze mid-step, her lips twitching like she couldn’t believe I’d asked. “Seriously? That’s what you care about right now?” She leaned in, her breath hot with rage. “You’re a lowlife, and I’m here to make sure you know it. I’d—”

“Enough!” a voice boomed, deep and commanding, slicing through the chaos like a blade. It sent a shiver down my spine, cold and electric, and I froze.

Bella halted mid-lungs, her momentum faltering as she spun toward the door. A figure filled the frame—tall, broad, his dark hair cropped close, his jaw set like stone. Michael, Logan’s teammate, his beta on the ice. I’d seen him at games, quiet but intense, and now his presence sucked the air from the room.

His eyes—hazel, piercing—swept over us, narrowing as they landed on Bella. “Back off, now,” he said, his tone low, unyielding, carrying a weight that made my knees weak.

Bella’s lip curled, but she stepped back, her chest heaving. “She—” she started, pointing at me, but Micheal cut her off with a single raised hand.

“I said enough.” His gaze shifted to me, softening slightly, though that commanding edge lingered. “Ariana, sit down. You’re hurt.” He nodded at my ankle, then turned to Bella. “You—out. Nurse Lana’s on her way, and she won’t like this.”

Bella scoffed, brushing her hair back, but her defiance wavered under his stare. “This isn’t over,” she muttered, shooting me a glare before stalking out, her footsteps fading down the hall.

I sank onto the bed, my legs trembling, the fight draining out of me. Micheal lingered, his silhouette blocking the door, and I felt his eyes on me—assessing, not judging. “You okay?” he asked, quieter now, but that voice still carried a shiver-inducing authority.

I nodded, swallowing hard, my throat raw. “Yeah. Thanks.”

My hands fidgeted with the sheet, Bella’s words looping in my head. Logan couldn’t have told Bella right? I mean he does not stick out to be the kiss and tell kind of guy. Which means someone else had seen us, heard us, and then spilled it to Bella. The car park wasn’t private; anyone could’ve walked by, caught the fogged windows, the creaking frame. My stomach churned, fresh shame mixing with the ache in my ankle.

Micheal stepped closer, his boots thudding softly. “Logan didn’t send her,” he said, as if reading my mind. “She’s been sniffing around him for months. Maybe she saw Logan bring you in here last night.”

I looked up, startled, but his face stayed calm, steady. “He brought you here after… whatever happened,” he added, his brow creasing. “Said you’d been attacked. He’s out looking for whatever it was that attacked you.”

My breath hitched. The boogeyman. Logan hadn’t abandoned me—he’d saved me, stayed until I was safe. But Bella’s rage, her claim on him, gnawed at me. “She thinks he’s hers,” I whispered more to myself than him.

Micheal snorted, a dry sound. “She wishes. Logan doesn’t play that game.” He paused, then nodded toward the hall. “Rest up. The nurse will be here soon.” He turned, leaving the door ajar, his footsteps fading into the murmur of the clinic.

I leaned back, exhaustion crashing over me, Bella’s venom and Logan’s absence swirling in my chest. I was safe for now—but the truth was a tangle I couldn’t unravel, and those yellow eyes still lurked in the dark.