The Fated Mate

Adrianna

The cafeteria buzz lingered in Rebekah’s ears as she and Maddie trudged down the hall toward their last class of the day. She carried her books like a shield, praying the hours would pass quickly. She already felt wrung out, like the day had squeezed every ounce of dignity from her.

At least calculus was over.

“Hey,” Maddie nudged her. “Last class, then freedom. You can survive one more hour, right?”

Rebekah managed a small smile. “Right.”

The classroom was already half full when they slipped in. Zane was there, sitting near the back like a storm cloud—solid, unmoving, impossible not to notice. Adrianna, of course, occupied the desk beside him, her friends clustered nearby. Their laughter echoed through the room like bells, sharp and biting.

Rebekah took the first open seat she could find, Maddie sliding in next to her, Tyler behind. She kept her head down, praying the teacher would start quickly.

But Adrianna had other plans.

“Oh, look,” Adrianna’s voice rang out, dripping with false sweetness. “If it isn’t the background extras.”

Her friends giggled on cue. Heat rushed into Rebekah’s cheeks, but she kept her eyes fixed on her notebook. If she didn’t react, maybe they’d get bored.

Adrianna leaned across the aisle, voice rising so everyone could hear. “Careful, Maddie, I think Rebekah’s drooling again. Or maybe she’s just allergic to shampoo. Hard to tell.”

The room chuckled. Rebekah’s stomach dropped, mortification washing over her. She wanted to sink into the floor, disappear, be anywhere but here.

Before she could even process, Zane’s voice cut through the noise.

“Adrianna.”

The single word was low, firm, and carried the weight of command. The laughter died instantly. Adrianna turned toward him, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Yes, Zane?”

“Shut up,” he said flatly. “And sit down.”

The silence was deafening.

Adrianna’s smile cracked. Her eyes flashed with fury, but she obeyed, sinking into her chair with a hiss of fabric. Her face remained composed, but her knuckles whitened where they gripped her desk.

Rebekah’s pulse hammered in her ears. The humiliation still clung to her skin, burning hotter than ever. She hadn’t done anything to deserve Adrianna’s cruelty, but she could feel the girl’s gaze boring into the back of her head like knives.

Why me? she thought desperately. I never asked for this. I don’t want to fight her. I just want to survive today.

She focused on the teacher’s droning voice, forcing herself to scribble notes even though her hands shook. Every second dragged like an eternity, her cheeks burning, her wolf shrinking small and silent inside her.

When the bell finally rang, she bolted from her seat, clutching her books like a lifeline.

She didn’t make it to the door.

“Rebekah.”

Zane’s voice froze her mid-step. She turned, heart thundering, to see him standing there—towering, confident, eyes softened in a way that made her stomach twist.

“Sorry about Adrianna,” he said. His tone was calm, almost apologetic. “She… means well. She just gets carried away. Sometimes she doesn’t know when to stop.”

Rebekah swallowed hard, words catching in her throat. Means well? She wanted to laugh, to scream, to tell him Adrianna had meant nothing but cruelty. But his gaze was too steady, too close, and her voice betrayed her.

“It’s… fine,” she murmured.

He nodded once, then turned, striding out the door without another glance. Adrianna followed in his wake, her glare searing through Rebekah like fire.

As soon as the popular crowd disappeared down the hall, Rebekah’s legs carried her as fast as they could. She found Maddie and Tyler waiting at their lockers, concern written across their faces.

“Bekah—” Maddie started.

But the moment Rebekah saw them, the dam broke. Tears spilled down her cheeks, her chest heaving with silent sobs. Maddie wrapped an arm around her shoulders while Tyler hovered helplessly.

“It’s okay,” Maddie whispered. “She’s a witch. Don’t listen to her.”

But Rebekah couldn’t stop. The humiliation, the sting of Adrianna’s words, the weight of Zane’s half-hearted defense—it all pressed too heavy. She cried until her throat ached, until there was nothing left but exhaustion.

By the time she stepped outside, her eyes were raw, her chest hollow. At least the day was done. At least she could escape.

Her mother’s car waited at the curb. Rebekah slid into the passenger seat without a word, wiping her cheeks furiously.

“Bekah?” her mother asked softly. “What’s wrong?”

Rebekah shook her head. She couldn’t explain. Not this. Not the shame boiling inside her. So she stared out the window, silent tears slipping down her face all the way home.

When they pulled into the driveway, her father was waiting on the porch, smiling. “How was your first day?” he asked brightly.

Rebekah didn’t answer. She bolted from the car, past him, past his confusion, straight up the stairs. The slam of her bedroom door shook the house.

She collapsed onto her bed, clutching her pillow, and sobbed until her throat was raw.

Why am I so stupid? she thought bitterly. Why did I think this year would be different? Why did I think I could ever be more than ordinary?

Her wolf stirred weakly inside her, as if echoing her despair. She hadn’t shifted yet—not once. Most of the others had months ago, some years. If Adrianna or her friends ever found out, she’d be finished. She would never live it down.

The shame twisted into something sharper. Something hotter.

Anger.

It roared through her veins, setting her blood on fire. With a strangled cry, Rebekah hurled her pillow across the room. Books followed, tumbling from shelves, her lamp shattering against the wall. She kicked the chair, the desk, screamed until her throat scraped raw.

She wanted to destroy everything.

Downstairs, her parents stood frozen at the bottom of the staircase, listening to the chaos above.

“When are we going to tell her?” her mother whispered, voice trembling.

Her father’s jaw tightened. “She isn’t ready. Look at her—she can’t even control her temper. If she knew the truth now, who knows what she might do?”

“But—”

“No.” His voice was firm, final. “Not yet.”

Her mother’s eyes shimmered with frustration. She wanted to argue, but she knew better. He was the head of their household. His word was law.

So she turned away, shoulders tight with unspoken anger.

Still, as the sound of Rebekah’s fury rattled the walls above them, a quiet certainty settled in her chest.

One day, their daughter would rise. One day, Rebekah would show them all—Adrianna, Zane, the entire pack. They would bow before her strength.

They just didn’t know it yet.