WHAT HAPPENED TO DAMIEN
1831 Words
Ayla's POV
No.
The word screamed in my head, but no sound came out. I just stared at Professor Arkon, waiting for him to tell me he was joking, that he had made a mistake.
But his expression stayed grim.
"Ayla…"
I was already moving, grabbing my bag and rushing toward the door. His hand caught my wrist.
"Let me go," I tried to mouth desperately.
"Where do you think you're going?" His grip was gentle but firm.
"To find him." I yanked my whiteboard up. "To the warehouse. To help search."
"No." He pulled me back, his other hand coming up to cup my face, forcing me to look at him. "Listen to me. The scene is still active. Search and rescue teams are combing the area. You can't go there."
Tears burned my eyes. I hated that I was crying over Damien after everything he had done to me. I hated that it still hurt this much.
"Is he..." I couldn't finish writing the question.
"We don't know," Professor Arkon said quietly. "There's a lot of blood. The attack was vicious. But no body has been found yet." His amber eyes held mine. "There's still a chance he's alive, Ayla. Hurt, maybe badly, but alive."
My legs went weak. He caught me before I could fall, guiding me back to the chair.
"I know what you're thinking," he said, crouching in front of me. "And the answer is no. You didn't do this."
I grabbed my whiteboard with shaking hands. "How do you know? You just said I might have memory gaps. What if I…"
"Because I know you." His voice was firm. "And even if you don't remember everything, I know your heart. You're not capable of this kind of violence."
"My scent was there," I wrote frantically. "At the warehouse. You said so."
"Yes. But that doesn't mean you attacked him." He stood, pacing. "It could mean you were there and left before the attack. It could mean someone is framing you by planting evidence. It could mean a dozen things that don't involve you being a killer."
I wanted to believe him. But the doubt was eating me alive.
"They're going to question you," Professor Arkon continued. "The Dean, campus security, probably Regional Pack investigators too." His amber eyes locked on mine. "You need to tell them the truth about where you were. All of it."
"In my dorm," I wrote.
"All night?"
I hesitated. Then shook my head slowly.
His expression darkened. "Ayla."
"I went out," I wrote quickly. "Around midnight. Just to the vending machine in the lobby. I couldn't sleep and I wanted something to drink. I was gone maybe ten minutes."
"Did anyone see you?"
I thought back. The lobby had been empty. My roommate was asleep. I was gone for such a short time, but it had been during lockdown.
I shook my head.
"Fuck." Professor Arkon ran a hand through his hair. "Okay. We can work with this."
"Work with what? I didn't do anything wrong."
"I know that. But they don't." He stopped pacing and looked at me. "A girl with white hair and silver eyes, whose ex-mate publicly rejected her, happens to be on campus when he's attacked by something matching her description. And your scent is at the scene." His jaw clenched. "They're going to consider you a suspect."
"Even though there's no body?" I wrote. "Even though he might still be alive?"
"Especially because of that." Professor Arkon's voice was grim. "If Damien is alive somewhere, injured and hiding, they'll want to know why. If he's dead and they just haven't found the body yet, they'll want justice. Either way, you're in the crosshairs."
My hands shook as I wrote. "What do I do?"
"You stay close to me today. Don't go anywhere alone. Don't talk to anyone without me present." His voice softened. "Let me help you, Ayla. Please."
There was something in his eyes that made my chest tight. Something protective and possessive and far more intense than a professor should feel for a student.
Before I could respond, his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen and cursed under his breath. "It's Dean Morrison." He pressed the phone to his ear. "Yes?"
I couldn't hear what the Dean was saying, but I watched Professor Arkon's expression grow darker with each passing second.
"Now?" he said sharply. "She just found out that Damien's missing…" A pause. "Fine. We'll be there in fifteen minutes."
He hung up and looked at me. "They want to talk to you. Both of us, actually. The Dean and a Regional Pack investigator."
My hands started shaking again.
Professor Arkon knelt in front of me, taking my hands in his. His touch was warm, steadying. "Look at me."
I did.
"You didn't do this. Whatever happened to Damien, you didn't do it. Say it."
I shook my head, unable to write it.
"Say it, Ayla."
I grabbed my whiteboard with one hand, the other still caught in his grip. "I didn't do this."
"Good." He squeezed my hand once before letting go. "Remember that. No matter what they ask you, no matter what they imply. You. Didn't. Do. This."
---
Dean Morrison's office was on the top floor of the administration building, with windows overlooking the entire campus. She sat behind a massive oak desk, her expression cold and calculating.
Two other people were there. A man in a security uniform and a woman I didn't recognize, with dark hair and sharp features.
"Miss Ayla, Professor Arkon." Dean Morrison gestured to the chairs across from her desk. "Please, sit."
We sat. Professor Arkon positioned his chair slightly in front of mine, like a shield.
"This is Chief Reynolds from campus security," the Dean said, nodding to the man, "and this is Investigator Marsh from the Regional Pack Council. She's here to investigate the recent attacks."
Investigator Marsh studied me with cold green eyes. "Miss Ayla. I understand this must be a difficult time for you."
I nodded stiffly.
"I need to ask you some questions about Damien Vane. I understand he was your former mate?"
I wrote on my whiteboard. "Yes."
"When did you last see him?"
"Yesterday evening. At the visitor's lodge."
Investigator Marsh's eyebrows rose. "During lockdown?"
Heat crept up my neck. "Yes."
"And what was the nature of that visit?"
I hesitated. Professor Arkon's hand found mine under the desk, his thumb stroking my palm in a calming gesture.
I wrote carefully. "He wanted to talk. To apologize for rejecting me."
"I see." Investigator Marsh made a note on her tablet. "And how did that conversation go? Were you angry? Upset?"
"It was brief," Professor Arkon cut in smoothly. "I escorted Miss Ayla back to her dorm around eight-thirty. She was in her room by nine."
"How do you know that?" Chief Reynolds asked, his tone skeptical.
"Because I checked." Professor Arkon's voice was steady. "Given the lockdown and the recent attacks, I wanted to make sure my students were safe."
Investigator Marsh's eyes narrowed. "All your students? Or just Miss Ayla?"
The question hung in the air like an accusation.
"All of them," Professor Arkon said calmly. "I sent messages to every student in my classes confirming they were safely in their dorms."
It was a lie. I knew it was a lie. But his expression didn't waver.
"And you stayed in your dorm all night, Miss Ayla?" Investigator Marsh turned back to me.
This was it. The moment I had to decide whether to lie or tell the truth.
I felt Professor Arkon's hand tighten on mine. A warning? Or reassurance?
I wrote slowly. "I went to the vending machine in my dorm lobby around midnight. I couldn't sleep. I was only gone ten minutes."
"During lockdown," Chief Reynolds repeated, making a note.
"I was thirsty. I didn't leave the building."
"Can anyone confirm that?"
I shook my head.
Investigator Marsh leaned forward. "Miss Ayla, I'm going to ask you something, and I need you to answer honestly. Have you ever experienced blackouts? Memory gaps? Waking up in places you don't remember going to?"
My breath caught.
Professor Arkon's hand squeezed mine again, but this time I could feel the tension in his grip.
"Why would you ask that?" he said, his voice sharp.
"Because the witnesses from the previous attacks described a wolf that seemed confused. Disoriented. Like it wasn't fully in control." Investigator Marsh's eyes stayed locked on me. "That's consistent with someone experiencing a fugue state during shifting."
"That's absurd," Professor Arkon said. "She was in her dorm."
"With no witnesses to confirm it," the Investigator countered. "And ten minutes is plenty of time to shift, run to the warehouse district, and return."
"The warehouse is half a mile from campus."
"A wolf could cover that distance in under three minutes."
I pulled my hand from Professor Arkon's grip and wrote furiously. "I cared about him. Why would I hurt him?"
"Cared about him?" Investigator Marsh tilted her head. "Past tense. Interesting. Or perhaps you hated him for humiliating you in front of his entire pack?"
Before I could respond, Professor Arkon stood abruptly. "This interview is over."
"Excuse me?" Dean Morrison's voice was sharp.
"You're not questioning her. You're accusing her without evidence." Professor Arkon's eyes blazed amber. "If you want to continue this conversation, she gets a pack representative present. Those are her rights under Pack Law."
Investigator Marsh stood slowly. "We're just trying to find out what happened to Damien Vane, Professor."
"Then find some actual evidence before you start pointing fingers at traumatized students who've done nothing wrong."
The tension in the room was suffocating.
Finally, Dean Morrison spoke. "Very well. Miss Ayla, you're free to go for now. But don't leave campus. We'll likely have more questions, especially if…" she paused meaningfully, "…if Damien's condition becomes clearer."
I grabbed my bag and stood on shaking legs.
Professor Arkon's hand found the small of my back, guiding me toward the door. But before we could leave, Investigator Marsh called out.
"One more thing, Miss Ayla."
I turned.
She held up her tablet, showing me a photo. It was grainy, clearly from a security camera, but I could make out a figure in the darkness.
A white wolf. Running across campus toward the forest.
The timestamp read 12:47 AM.
"Security footage from last night," she said. "Any idea who this might be?"
I stared at the photo, my heart hammering in my chest.
Because I recognized the dorm building in the background.
Mine.
Professor Arkon's hand tightened on my back. "Come on. We're leaving."
We left the office in silence. But as soon as we were in the hallway, I grabbed his arm.
"That was me," I wrote quickly. "That had to be me."
"You don't know that."
"Then who else?" I shoved the whiteboard at him. "White wolf. My building. The exact time I said I went out."
- Writer
