Chapter 3: Red Paint
1635 Words
Riley’s POV
I stared at the red paint on the wall for a second, then spun on my heel and walked out.
Camila and her little gang were still blocking the doorway like they were waiting to see me break down. I walked right up to them. “Move.”
“You still wanna stay in this dorm? It’s not too late to change your mind—”
“Move before I lose it.” I bared my wolf fangs at them.
They froze, clearly not expecting me to get physical. Before they could react, I shoved Camila out of the way and stormed off.
People were still whispering, pointing, and staring at me the whole way down the hall, but I ignored every single one of them and headed straight to the staff’s office.
The lady working there looked half-asleep and bored out of her mind. Her droopy eyes barely looked up when I came in, “What?”
“My things were ripped apart and thrown all over the dorm. Someone spray-painted my wall. I believe I’ve been bullied by my peers. Now I need you to find out who did it and do something about it.”
She finally lifted her head and blinked at me. Then she drawled, “…Wait. You’re that girl… the daughter of—”
“Yes. I’m Everly Monroe’s daughter. What about it?”
She gave me a fake little smile. “Look, bullying really isn’t that common in this school. Most of our students are well-educated and have a very good manner. If you feel targeted, maybe it’s worth reflecting on what you might’ve done to upset the whole group.”
“The only thing my mom and I have ever done to piss anyone off is getting involved with your King. Now, do I need to get your king here to apologize to you?” I asked sharply.
Her jaw dropped. “N-No, that’s not what I meant…”
I planted both hands on her desk and stared her down. “Find out who did it. And repaint my room. You think you can get it done by tomorrow?”
“Yeah, yeah, I think so…”
“Good. Because if it’s not done by tomorrow, I’ll be back to have another chat.”
I walked out without looking back.
All my stuff was ruined. I didn’t even have clothes to change into tomorrow. Not even a toothbrush. So after hesitating for a while, I finally pulled out my phone. Unsurprisingly, there were 9 missed calls and a crazy dozen texts.
[Randall said you arrived. Why aren’t you home yet?]
[You’re making me worried, honey.]
[Call me back.]
[Are you at least coming home for dinner? Your father wants to meet you.]
I let out a long sigh, then typed three words: [OMY.]
Half an hour later, a car drove me into the very heart of the Full Moon Pack—the palace.
It was the most beautiful building I’d ever seen. Snow-white walls, arched towers, a silver-domed roof, and an entrance that looked like it belonged in a fairy tale.
But honestly, I couldn’t say I was happy to be here.
A group of omega maids greeted me at the gate, flustering to open my door and hand me a welcome drink like I was checking into a five-star resort. I was just about to tell them to chill out when I heard the sharp clack of heels.
My mother, Everly Monroe, was hurrying toward me.
She was without a doubt the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Delicate features, huge innocent eyes, and a slender figure that made her look like a goddess or an angel. Her soft blonde hair looked like it had been kissed by moonlight—no wonder the media once called her “the woman who most resembles the Moon Goddess.”
Someone like her was never meant to stay in a place like Pebble Creek Pack, let alone marry a farmer. And she realized that pretty quickly herself. At age 21, she walked out of our house and never looked back.
I always knew she’d climb higher.
I just never expected her to go this high.
“Oh, my sweet baby.”
She reached out and hugged me. I sighed inwardly and gave her a few awkward pats on the back.
“Hey Mom. How are you?”
“You have me so worried! When Randall came home without you, I thought something had happened. Thank goodness you’re safe.” She cupped my face in her hands. “God, look at you. It’s been so long…”
“8 years,” I said for her.
“Right. 8 years. I can’t believe it… You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman, and I’ve aged so much…”
Her face had nothing to do with the word “aged.” She looked just as beautiful as a decade ago. And to make things even more annoying, I saw tears welling up in her eyes.
“Don’t cry mom. I’m here, aren’t I?” I sighed again.
She wiped her eyes quickly. “Yeah you’re right. What am I thinking? So stupid of me to cry…I just really, really need you here, sweetheart. It’s the most important moment of my life, and I want the most important person to witness it. I need your blessing. And your… support.”
She emphasized “support.”
If the bullying I was facing out there was intense, I could only imagine how much worse it must be for her. For a delicate woman like my mom, it was probably killing her. No wonder she insisted on dragging me from the countryside into this hellhole.
She held my hand and smiled through her tears. “And I’ve made all the arrangements. You’ll study at the Royal Academy for 3 years, then join the Healers’ Association in Full Moon Pack right after graduation. You always wanted to be a healer, didn’t you? Your grandmother said you’re really talented—”
“Hold on.” I cut her off. “I’m only staying here for a year. Once your wedding’s over and you’re all settled in, I’m leaving.”
Her face changed instantly. “Leaving? Where are you going?”
I already had plans, but I wasn’t about to tell her. She’d have a heart attack once she heard my plan.
“Wherever I’m not surrounded by Lycans. I don’t belong here.”
“Yes, you do!” She squeezed my hand so hard it hurt. “I’m marrying the Lycan King. I belong here. So do you. If you want to be a healer, where else could be better than this?”
“Mom, don’t push it.”
She looked at me pleadingly. “Stay, Riley. Stay and make me proud. I’m begging you.”
She wanted me to make her proud.
But I wasn’t sure she’d feel that way if she knew my secret.
After a long silence, I gave in, “I’m hungry. Didn’t you say we were having dinner?”
She finally smiled. “Of course, baby. Dinner’s all ready. Come on.”
She led me into this huge dining hall. A long banquet table stretched down the middle, covered with enough food to feed a village. She sat me down beside her.
“Your father’s looking forward to meeting you honey. He’ll join us soon—”
“The Lycan King is not my father,” I said coldly.
Her grip on me tightened, nails digging into my skin. “Don’t make this difficult, Riley.”
I stared her down stubbornly. That’s when I heard steady footsteps from the doorway.
The Lycan King Soren Ravenshire walked in.
He was massive. Easily 6’5. Sharp features, broad shoulders, and a powerful, intimidating presence that made you want to bow your head on instinct. He looked nothing like his son. Ezra probably got his looks from his mom.
“Riley!” he boomed as he crossed the room. “I’ve been wanting to meet you.”
“Pleasure to meet you, my king,” I said politely, shaking his hand.
“Please, no need for titles. We’re about to be family. You’re practically my daughter already.”
“I won’t be calling you Dad. I already have one,” I said.
Mom tensed up visually like she wanted to leap across the table and cover my mouth. Soren paused, then let out a hearty laugh. “Of course I understand. You can call me Soren.”
“Thank you, my king.” I smiled. Still didn’t change the title.
We sat down at the table. Soren turned to me, “I heard you’ve enrolled at the Royal Academy. That’s good. It’s where the brightest in the kingdom come from. I hope you’ll be one of them. In fact, my son Ezra goes there too. You’ll probably see him around.”
“We’ve already met,” I said. And he made a lasting impression.
“Really?” Mom beamed and gripped my hand. Clearly, she misunderstood. “I think he’ll be joining us for dinner too. I was thinking of asking him to look out for you at school—you know since you’re new, and he’s graduating soon.”
I was about to beg her not to do something so stupid when the dining room doors suddenly slammed open.
Ezra Ravenshire stood in the doorway.
“You’re late Ezra,” Soren boomed.
“I wasn’t sure I wanted to come to this stupid dinner,” his son smirked.
Then he turned his icy green eyes toward us. A chill ran down my spine. Mom sat up straighter, like bracing for a blow.
“Now who the f**k said you could use my mother’s silver?”
- Writer
