My legs feel heavy, each step deliberate and hesitant, the weight of my books digging into my arms as though holding them tight might shield me from anyone’s judgment or prying eyes.
“Lucas,” I say finally, my voice barely more than a whisper. It escapes my lips so soft it feels fragile in the space between us. Still, I know he hears me—his alpha hearing ensures that—he doesn’t respond. I reach forward, nudging his shoulder. He growls, the sound making my entire body tense as goosebumps rise all over. His gaze flicks up, unreadable and distant, like I’m just another face in a crowd he can’t be bothered with.
“What do you want, Autumn?”
The coldness in his tone hits me like a slap across the face, and I flinch despite myself. My chest tightens, as if his words alone have sucked all the a
