His Broken Mate

Chapter Three: The Choice She Didn't Make Lightly

Athena wasn’t supposed to be here.

The hallway smelled like disinfectant and sweat, just like it always did. Someone’s locker slammed three doors down. A bell rang overhead. And Athena—Alpha-in-waiting, warrior, storm of a girl—was pretending to care about pre-calculus while her phone buzzed silently in her pocket.

She took the back staircase, hoodie pulled over her hair, earbuds in even though she wasn’t playing music. The halls were already buzzing with whispers. Not about her yet, thank the moon—but they would be soon enough.

She was late. Not by much, but enough to be noticed. Enough for people to tilt their heads and murmur, “Isn’t today her coronation?”

Exactly.

She slipped into the second-floor side door of her classroom just as the teacher turned toward the whiteboard.

“Athena,” he said, eyebrows arching over his glasses. “Didn’t expect to see you today.”

Didn’t expect to see myself either, she thought.

“Needed the distraction,” she said aloud. Her voice didn’t shake.

She took her seat at the back, sliding into the empty desk beside Caleb, her sparring partner, and one of the few who didn’t treat her like walking royalty. He raised a brow as she sat.

“No tiara today?” he whispered.

“Broke it fighting off a wild squirrel.”

“You joke, but I feel like you actually could.”

Athena gave a soft snort, letting her bag fall beside her chair. Outside, the clouds were starting to gather—thin grey layers, not threatening yet, just heavy enough to feel.

Her teacher went on with the lecture, but the numbers on the board blurred in and out of focus. Something about the quiet today scratched at her skin. The school was normal, too normal. She couldn’t shake the weight pressing against her ribs, the way her body braced for something it couldn’t name.

Then came the second message from Nyt.

> Where are you?

She stared at it. Didn’t type back. Not right away.

She knew that tone. He could feel it too now, couldn’t he?

She typed:

> I needed to breathe. I’ll be back before it starts.

> You shouldn’t have gone alone.

> Neither should you.

She turned her phone over on the desk, screen-down. She could feel Caleb glancing at her again, but she didn’t say anything.

Outside, the wind picked up. The trees lining the field behind the school shivered, just a little. A crow flapped past the window. And in Athena’s gut, that old familiar warning unfurled like smoke:

Something is coming.

She just didn’t know what.

Not yet.