The Fated Encounter with the Forbidden Alpha

Chapter 10: "Shadows of Deception"

Tia Adams had spent the past week submerged in a haze of confusion and despair, all stemming from that fateful day in Dr. Hayes's office. The scene with Sheila, that flame-haired seductress draped over him like a possessive blanket, had embedded itself in Tia's mind, gnawing away at her every waking thought. Sheila’s absence from the campus was a relief, sparing Tia from the torment of encountering her again, yet it did nothing to quell the storm inside her. Dr. Hayes’s absence was announced through a cold, impersonal email citing personal matters. Was she grateful for the reprieve, or did his absence only deepen the hollow ache in her chest?

Every attempt Julia made to draw out Tia’s feelings was met with guarded responses, the same poised and polished exterior that Tia had perfected under her grandmother’s rigorous tutelage. Tara Adams had drilled into her the importance of control, of maintaining a calm facade even when the world felt like it was crumbling around her. But even Tara’s strict teachings couldn’t entirely shield Tia from the turmoil she felt. The mask she wore was beginning to crack, and Tia feared what would happen if it shattered completely.

Julia, sensing the futility of her questions, eventually relented. And Tia? She buried herself in her studies, especially in her Performing Theater Studies assignment, finding solace in the structured world of academia. It was easier to focus on her courses than to confront the mess of emotions swirling inside her. The scene in Dr. Hayes’s office played on a loop in her mind, but she shoved it aside, refusing to let it consume her.

One afternoon, Tia sat in the hushed sanctuary of the university library, her refuge from the chaos of her thoughts. The soft glow of her laptop screen was the only light she allowed into her little world, the rest of the library’s quiet stillness surrounding her like a comforting blanket. Just as she began to lose herself in the words on the screen, her phone buzzed with an incoming notification. It was from her grandmother, a message as terse and direct as Tara Adams herself: *Expect a call in 15 minutes.*

Tia’s heart sank. She quickly gathered her belongings, sliding her laptop into her Louis Vuitton bag, and left the library. The idea of having this conversation in the dorms, with her roommates potentially overhearing, was unbearable. Instead, she slipped into an empty classroom near the conference hall, its dim light and worn wooden desks providing the privacy she craved.

She settled into a chair near the door, her phone clutched tightly in her hand. The call came precisely on time. Tara Adams was nothing if not punctual.

“Good afternoon, Grandmother,” Tia greeted, her voice steady, though her heart pounded in her chest.

“Good afternoon, child,” came the response, crisp and cool, like the air on a winter morning. “How has your first week at university been? Are you enjoying your independence?”

The words stung, though Tia knew they weren’t intended to. “It’s been good, Grandmother,” she replied, forcing a smile that Tara couldn’t see. “My roommates are nice, and the courses are everything I hoped they’d be. I’m truly happy to be here.”

The lie slipped out easily, but it felt heavy on her tongue. Tara had always been able to see through Tia, no matter how carefully she crafted her words. Her grandmother knew her too well, and Tia braced herself for the inevitable follow-up.

“Then why do I sense you’re hiding something?” Tara’s voice cut through Tia’s facade like a knife through butter. “Perhaps an application to drop a course?”

Tia’s breath caught in her throat. How could her grandmother possibly know? She had been so careful, masking the drop by enrolling in Technical Writing, a course she had convinced herself would better align with her goals. But Tara’s sharp intuition had always been unnervingly accurate, and Tia knew there was no use in lying further.

“Yes, I dropped Dr. Hayes’s course,” she admitted, her voice small. “It wasn’t what I expected, so I switched to Technical Writing instead. It’s more in line with my interests.”

The silence on the other end of the line was suffocating. Tia could almost see her grandmother’s calculating expression, the one that always made her feel like a child again, caught in some minor transgression. Finally, Tara spoke, her voice as cold as ever.

“I’m coming to Calgary for my latest book reading,” she announced. “I’ll see you in three months, pumpkin.”

And just like that, the call ended. Tia stared at her phone, the dead tone echoing in her ears. Tara’s impending visit hung over her like a dark cloud, threatening to unleash a storm she wasn’t prepared for. She muttered a curse under her breath, a rare lapse in her usually composed demeanor. The pressure was building, and Tia feared that if it continued, it would be too much for her to bear.

With a heavy sigh, Tia left the classroom, the weight of her grandmother’s expectations pressing down on her like a leaden blanket. She couldn’t afford to be near Dr. Hayes until she understood her own feelings, but avoiding him was becoming increasingly difficult. And now, with her grandmother’s visit looming on the horizon, the stakes had never been higher.

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The next day, Tia found herself in Professor Martin’s elective course on Norse mythology. The projector displayed the words *Fenrir* and *Ragnarök* in bold letters, casting an eerie glow across the room. The professor droned on about the connection between Norse myths and the origins of lycanthropy, but Tia’s mind was elsewhere.

She had chosen this course in a bid to gather material for her writing, hoping to create stories that would eclipse her grandmother’s bestselling witch-hunting tales. But today, the lecture was about as engaging as watching paint dry. The only thing keeping Tia awake was the steady drip of anxiety that had been her constant companion since that phone call.

“Now,” Professor Martin’s voice broke through her fog of thoughts, “I want each of you to write a short story explaining how the lycanthrope legend might have come into existence, using references from the mythology texts you’ll find in the library or at the Shadowclaw community’s main household.”

The mention of the Shadowclaw community snapped Tia to attention. It was a name she had heard only in passing, associated with Dr. Hayes and his mysterious background. The assignment, which should have intrigued her, now felt like a burden. The last thing she wanted was to delve into anything connected to him.

After class, Tia was supposed to meet with Hannah, a 1st year Master's student from her Canadian Literature course, to discuss their team assignment on the impact of the World Wars on Canadian writing. Tia had tried to set a time and place, but Hannah’s curt response had been, “I’ll find you.” There was something unsettling about the way she said it, but Tia brushed it off, too tired to care.

She made her way to the courtyard beside the gymnasium, settling under the shade of an old oak tree. The plaque, besides it, mentioned the tree’s age and its role in protecting the university centuries ago. Tia stared at it, wondering if the university was really as old as the plaque claimed or if it was just another story passed down through the ages.

“Why are you late?” The voice that cut through the stillness was sharp, almost a growl. Tia jumped, startled by the sudden intrusion.

She turned to find Hannah standing a few strides away, dressed in her usual gym attire. Her eyes, dark and piercing, locked onto Tia with an intensity that made her uneasy. There was something different about Hannah, something that set her apart from Julia. Where Julia was all sunshine and warmth, Hannah was cold and distant, like a winter’s night.

“You didn’t tell me the time,.. and well, I am sorry, okay?” Tia said, trying to keep her voice steady. Hannah’s scrutinizing gaze made her feel like she was being evaluated, and she didn’t like it.

Hannah’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Tia thought she might have said the wrong thing. But then, just as quickly, the tension seemed to dissipate. “Never apologize when it’s not your mistake,” Hannah said, her voice firm but not unkind.

Tia nodded, though she wasn’t entirely sure what to make of Hannah’s words. There was something about her, something that made Tia believe she could trust her. It was a strange feeling, given how little she knew about Hannah, but it was there all the same.

As they settled into their discussion, Tia couldn’t help but think that perhaps Hannah was someone she could rely on, someone who might understand her in a way that no one else did. And for the first time in days, Tia felt a glimmer of hope, a sense that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone as she thought.