The Interrogation
1245 Words
The word hung in the air like a guillotine blade.
Mine.
It echoed in the silence of the Grand Hall. It bounced off the stone walls and slammed straight into my chest.
For a second neither of us moved. Draven stared at me with wide bewildered eyes. His hand was still wrapped around my wrist. His grip was tight. It wasn't painful but it was unbreakable.
My heart hammered against my ribs. It beat so hard I thought it might c***k the bone.
Then the silence broke.
Someone near the front dropped a textbook. The heavy thud sounded like a gunshot.
Suddenly the entire room exploded into noise.
"Did he just say mine?"
"No way. She's a human."
"Is he claiming her? A scholarship student?"
"That's impossible. The Blackwoods don't mate with humans."
The whispers spread like wildfire. They hissed through the air. Sharp. Cruel. Disbelieving.
I felt the blood drain from my face. This wasn't part of the plan. I was supposed to be invisible. I was supposed to be a ghost. Now I was center stage in a drama I didn't understand.
Panic flared in my chest. Hot and sharp.
Get away, my mind screamed. Create distance.
I yanked my arm back. I put every ounce of my strength into it.
"Let go of me!" I gasped.
Draven blinked. He looked down at his hand as if he had forgotten it was attached to his body. He seemed confused that he was holding me. But he didn't let go.
If anything his fingers tightened.
His skin felt scorching hot against my wrist. It wasn't normal heat. It was feverish. It sent jolts of electricity shooting up my arm. It made my teeth chatter.
"What is this?" he whispered. His voice was rough. Strained. "What are you?"
He wasn't asking for my name. He was asking what species of monster I was.
I tried to pull away again. My boot scraped against the stone floor. I could feel the cold weight of the dagger against my ankle. It was right there. One quick motion. I could draw it. I could strike.
But I couldn't make my hand move toward the weapon.
"I'm nobody," I stammered. I forced myself to sound terrified. It wasn't hard. I was terrified. "I'm just a student. Please. You're hurting me."
It was a lie. He wasn't hurting me. He was anchoring me.
Draven’s eyes narrowed. The golden light in his irises swirled. It was mesmerizing. It was terrifying.
"Liar," he growled softly.
Movement flickered in my peripheral vision.
The other three Alpha Heirs were moving. They closed in around us like a pack of wolves encircling a deer.
Rian Sterling stepped forward first. His charming smile was gone. His blue eyes were cold and calculating.
"Draven," Rian said. His voice was calm but authoritative. "Release her. You are making a scene."
Draven didn't look at his friend. He didn't look at the crowd. He only looked at me.
"She feels..." Draven trailed off. He shook his head as if trying to clear water from his ears. "She feels like lightning."
Kaelen, the massive enforcer, crossed his arms. He looked at me with open disgust.
"She's a human, Draven," Kaelen grunted. "She's fragile. You're going to snap her wrist if you keep holding her like that."
At the mention of me being fragile something snapped in Draven’s face.
His head whipped around to look at Kaelen. A low warning sound rumbled in his throat. It wasn't quite a growl but it was close. It was a threat.
"Don't talk about her," Draven snapped.
Kaelen took a step back. His eyebrows shot up. "Whoa. Easy, man."
"Back off," Draven warned. His voice dropped an octave. "Stay back."
I stared at him in shock. He was protecting me? From his own friends?
Why?
He turned back to me. The aggression vanished from his face instantly. It was replaced by that same intense confusion. He stepped closer. He forced me back until my shoulders pressed against the cold stone wall.
He cornered me.
He leaned down. He was so close I could feel the heat radiating off his chest. He smelled like rain and ozone. It made my head spin.
"Tell me," he demanded. His voice was a harsh whisper. "Did you cast a spell? Are you a witch?"
I shook my head frantically. "No! I'm human! I don't have magic!"
"Then explain this," he hissed. He lifted my wrist. He held it up between us. "Explain why my heart is racing. Explain why I can't let you go."
I swallowed hard. My throat felt dry as sandpaper.
"I don't know," I whispered. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You feel it too," he accused. "I saw your eyes. You felt the shock."
I did. God help me I did. But I couldn't admit that.
"I felt nothing," I lied. "I'm scared. That's all. You're scaring me."
Draven searched my face. He looked for the lie. He looked for the truth.
He leaned in closer. His nose brushed against my hair. I stopped breathing.
"You're lying," he murmured.
He sounded wrecked. He sounded like he was in pain.
"I don't understand it," he said. His voice was so quiet that only I could hear him. "I don't know you. You are nothing. You are a weak little human."
He paused. His gaze dropped to my lips. Then back up to my eyes.
"So why does my wolf want to tear apart anyone who looks at you?"
The question hung there. Raw. Dangerous.
My breath hitched.
This was bad. This was so much worse than I thought. The Order had warned me about guards. They had warned me about wards and magic barriers.
They hadn't warned me about this.
I had to get away. I had to report this. I had to rethink the entire mission.
"Please," I whispered. I put my free hand on his chest to push him away.
It was a mistake.
Touching his chest was like touching a live wire. I could feel his heart booming under my palm. It was beating in perfect sync with mine.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Draven sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes widened.
"You feel it," he said. It wasn't a question anymore. It was a realization.
"No," I gasped.
"Yes," he insisted.
Suddenly a shrill bell rang out.
It cut through the tension like a knife. The sound echoed through the hall signaling the start of first period.
The spell broke.
Draven flinched at the noise. His grip on my wrist loosened for just a fraction of a second.
It was all I needed.
I ripped my hand away. I didn't wait to see his reaction. I didn't look back at Rian or the others.
I turned and ran.
I pushed through the crowd of stunned students. I ignored their stares. I ignored their whispers. I sprinted toward the corridor my bag bouncing against my hip.
I needed to get to class. I needed to hide.
But as I ran I could still feel the phantom heat of his fingers on my skin. I could still hear his voice in my head.
Mine.
I wasn't his. I would never be his.
I was his executioner.
But as I rounded the corner and slumped against the lockers gasping for air I realized my hands were shaking.
And for the first time in my life I wasn't sure if I could hold the knife steady.
- Writer
