The Top Boy Is My Mate

Chapter 17: Project from Hell

Zara’s POV

My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. Class this morning had sputtered through left hips to right jabs, but my mind replayed last night on a loop. Why had he been in the girls’ dorm at midnight? My stomach twisted.

It was combat class today, mirrors, staff grinds, old martial arts runes were chalked to perfection on the wooden floor. Even here, my gaze kept drifting to the archway leading to the side corridor. Heart scraping.

At the end of class, Professor Adira, she wore her dark hair in a braid like a whip, clapped her hands, calling us all in close.

“Important announcement,” she said, her voice sweet and rough all at once. I inhaled, no one else had heard the growl, no one else was living my nightmare.

“We have a group project,” she continued. “Four of you will partner for a term-long challenge in pack dynamics and supernatural symbiosis.”

My pulse kicked up. I closed my eyes.

“Zara Blackwood.”

Yeah, me.

“Atlas King.”

…well that was expected.

“Alexandra Monroe.”

Why!!

“Jace King.”

…what?

Heat rushed through me. Atlas stiffened beside me. Jace barely blinked. Alex looked nervous. But me? I felt like the world had tilted on its axis.

Professor Adira clapped again. “Feel free to chat quietly about initial roles. Class dismissed.”

I wanted to bolt straight out, past the sparring mats, anywhere. Instead I turned, and collided with Atlas’s silent glare. He wore the fitted black spar shirt that showed every tense line of muscle.

Alex shifted behind me; papers shook in her hand. Jace stepped closer to her, arm brushing her shoulder with casual familiarity that made my skin crawl. He murmured,

“You okay?” The softness in his tone punched air from my lungs.

“Hey,” Alex told me, eyes bright. “We’ll be okay.”

I ignored her. Beside me, Atlas smirked, low, edged, like he was amused.

We filed into the corridor in silence, only the echo of our footfalls.

Alex sighed. “So…do we talk strategy?”

Atlas snorted. “I don’t need a strategy partner.”

“Fine,” Alex muttered, cheeks pink. Jace slid his hand into hers, an absent, practiced motion. Jealousy stabbed, but I tucked it behind a blank face.

This was a project, nothing more. I’d focus on research, on details. No drama. No wandering in halls at midnight. I could handle this.

….

After Adira dismissed us, I decided to skip lunch, students spilled toward lunch. The smell of roasted venison and rosemary bread floated from the Great Hall, but the thought of food curdled my stomach. I merged with a group of first-years, then walked into a side passage lined with stained-glass windows. Color bled across the flagstones: scarlet wolves, silver moons, a gold-eyed girl crowned in bone. I stared until the shapes blurred, then pushed through the library doors instead of the cafeteria.

Inside, dust motes drifted through the walls. I walked past towering shelves, heart still jackhammering, until I reached the alcove that smelled of old ink and lavender polish. I dropped into a leather chair, hugging my knees. Across the aisle a pair of sophomores whispered over an open grimoire.

Their voices boomed: “Did you hear Nova saw the King brothers together? Said sparks were literally flying.” I closed my eyes, ignoring their voices.

Footsteps approached, soft, and even. I tensed, but it was only Madam Celestine, the librarian, drifting by in silk robes. She paused to tuck a stray quill behind my ear like a florist pinning a blossom.

“Headaches fade faster when you eat,” she murmured, then glided away. I waited until she turned the corner before slipping the quill into my pocket.

I knew skipping lunch was stupid. Hunger gnawed, but the library felt safer than facing Alex’s worried glances or Jace’s polite questions. I didn’t trust my expression to stay neutral while they sat together. Better to starve in silence than bleed in public.

When the bell chimed the next period, I forced myself up. My knees cracked. I ignored the ache and returned to class, though the indifference in my face was evident.

….

Later that day, we met in the classroom Professor Adira had reserved. It smelled faintly of sage. Desks were pushed into a horseshoe formation. Candles waited to be lit. A massive blackboard listed project parameters: pack structure, ecosystem balance, shift synergy, vampire–lycan alliances. Normal school crap, if you ignored the fact we were four wildly incompatible people.

Atlas dropped onto a desk, stretching his long legs, shadow sprawling across the floor. Jace chose the seat opposite, calm as always, hand resting lightly on Alex’s knee beneath the table. I pretended not to see her shy smile.

Alex hesitated then finally said, “Um, hi.”

“Hi,” Jace replied, smiling at her. Atlas stayed quiet.

I rolled my eyes at that.

She pulled out a spiral notebook. “I made a list of ideas, ecosystem dynamics between werewolves, lycans, vampires…um, pack psychology?”

Atlas snorted. “You mean how packs treat their puppy? Everything’s about pack dominance.”

I bristled. Pack psychology was deeper: rituals, lineage, ancestral shifts. But this wasn’t the time.

“We could explore human–werewolf diplomatic rituals instead.”

Alex blinked. Jace raised an eyebrow, briefly.

Atlas leaned forward. “Diplomacy is weakness. Blood is what matters.”

I stiffened. I’d seen enough diplomatic rituals to know they built trust, not weakness. His sneer rolled across his face as if he craved a fight.

Jace spoke. “Maybe we start by outlining, protocols, benefits, pitfalls, less about who’s weaker.”

Atlas snorted again. “You’re soft too.”

Jace tilted his chin. “I’m realistic.”

Atlas’s eyes flashed. He leaned close to Jace, close enough I tensed. “Realistic? Or afraid?” he said, voice low.

Jace smiled. “There’s a difference.”

A taut silence crackled. Alex swallowed.

“Guys,” I interrupted, although I hated to call them that but I had no choice, my voice sharp. “This is stupid. We’re here to work.” I said pointing at the scattered papers on the desk.

Atlas glared at me. “Stay out of this.”

“Just answer the question,” Jace said, voice calm as poison. “Are you afraid of ideas that aren’t physical?”

Atlas opened his mouth, but Alex spoke first: “Look, let’s just start with a table. Idea, source, references.” She put paper and pens in the center. A gesture of peace.

Atlas snorted but sat back. “Fine.”

We spent fifteen minutes making a chart. Silence stretched. Tension kept rising.

….

An hour later, Alex leaned back, eyes soft. “Zara? You okay?”

I stared at my list. “Fine.”

She didn’t press. Good. I didn’t need pity or flashbacks.

The window rattled behind us, late afternoon wind slipping through old sash frames. The scent of rain teased along with dust motes dancing in the golden light.

Atlas stood up. “I’ll get us some tea.”

He stalked out. Jace watched him go, expression unreadable.

I swallowed. “This is ridiculous, really.” I muttered.

“Maybe,” Jace said quietly, leaning closer now. “But at least we’re talking about it.”

I wasn’t talking to you though.

Alex nodded. “Yeah. We’re doing okay.”

I closed my eyes. The growl from last night sang in the back of my skull. What was that creature? And what was Atlas doing on our floor at midnight?

I didn’t say what I was thinking. I didn’t know if I could say it.

Atlas returned with the tray balancing three mugs, one for each of us, none for himself. Steam curled, carrying clove and smoke. He set them down with a deliberate clink. Jace murmured thanks on Alex’s behalf before nudging her cup closer. She smiled, warmth blooming in her cheeks that I pretended not to see.

Alex sipped and winced when it burned. Jace’s hand hovered over hers. “Slow,” he said softly. Embarrassed, she laughed under her breath. The sound sliced something tender in my ribs, but I kept my eyes on the treaty outline, adding bullet points in my chart letters.

Atlas leaned against a bookshelf, arms folded. “When you two finish flirting, we might draft the enforcement clause.”

Alex bit her lip. “Sorry…habit.” She scribbled faster. Jace’s gaze briefly hardened toward Atlas, but he said nothing.

Candlewax puddled over brass. Rain poured, tapping a staccato rhythm. A raven flapped past, then vanished into ivy-clad eaves. Thunder rolled a distant bass note that set the glass trembling.

Jace spoke. “Ritual site, abandoned chapel? Forest glade?”

“Cave of Echoes,” Atlas said. “Acoustics carry vows.”

“Fine,” I muttered.

Hours later, as we packed, Jace tugged Alex’s cloak tighter. “You’ll freeze.” She kissed his cheek. My pulse stumbled, face still stone. Atlas saw it; his stare curious, almost sympathetic. I looked away first.

A knock snapped me out of my thoughts. Professor Adira stepped in. “Your tea, Atlas? Good.”

She scanned us. Eyes flicked to the chart. “Excellent. Sounds like you’ve started strong.”

Alex smiled. Jace bowed his head slightly. Atlas smirked, but didn’t say more.

She paused, examining me. “Zara? You look…tense.”

“Just tired,” I said, meeting her gaze. “Long week.”

She nodded. “I understand. Let me know if you find troubling behavior. Sleep deprivation isn’t good for pack health.”

Her words were casual, like she knew something. Does she know? Tension coated her tone, like she was warning me.

I nodded. “I will.”

She left, closing the door behind her. Candles guttered. Silence descended again.

“We’re good?” Alex asked quietly.

I looked up at both boys. Jace said nothing. Atlas met my gaze for a long second, and I flinched. He knew.

“I guess,” I said.

….

Later, I walked back to the girls’ dorm. Midnight already. The air outside smell of rain, wet leaves. Sharp bell-metal clamor.

I shivered. Pulled my hoodie tighter.

In the corridor, I passed Alex’s door. She peeked through. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” I replied, voice small.

She nodded. “Tomorrow I’ll come over and finalize the chart.”

I smiled at her. A way to ease the tension. She smiled back, bright and hopeful. Her smile was giving “we could actually be teammates”

My room was dark, except for flickering light by the wall. The smell of jasmine drifted out. A reminder of home.

Hunger kept me awake. I found a stale granola bar Talia had gifted me. Rain hammered the roof; lightning illuminated wardrobe carvings of lupine heads and moons.

As if the moon goddess didn’t hate me enough), Alex’s room was just a few steps from mine. A laugh floated from her laugh, soft at first then loud. My heart twisted. I inhaled until the ache dulled, exhaled frost. I yawned, dropped my pen, and decided to rest for a few minutes.

….

I heard low growls under my room door. Whispered words… Zara…Mira…

I sat up quickly. Heart pounding, I must’ve slept off. Midnight again?

No, it was 1 AM. Late, later than I wanted.

My door creaked. Faint footsteps.

I pressed my back to the headboard.

A shadow moved across the wall. Not my imagination this time.

The door handle rattled.

My breath froze.

Then Talia’s shadow filled the doorway. Formed solid in the candlelight.

“Zara,” she whispered, stepping inside. She held a folded note.

I stared. Did Talia sleep walk?

She held it out. “Found this in your section of the corridor. You need to see it.”

My heart stalled. I reached out—My hands shook, but I took the note. Talia stepped back into the shadow, hands still twitching by her side, like she expected something behind me.

I unfolded the paper with slow fingers. The ink was rushed, letters jagged:

>Zara. How are you settling in Blackwood? Please call me. <

Aunty May.

A chill coiled around me. Why would Aunty May’s letter come by this time?

Talia leaned forward, voice low. “This was tucked behind the sconce in the hall. I thought maybe it was mine—”

I looked up. She stared back like she meant the words for me.

She cleared his throat. “It’s…not mine.”

I swallowed, grip tightening. “Yes. It’s mine. Thanks.”

She turned, footsteps soft. I closed my eyes.

When I opened them, Alex was standing in the doorway, candle in her hand. She’d been listening.

I froze, my heart pounding. What the hell?

I closed the door behind her.

…..

The next day dragged. One glance at Atlas and I saw the storm ringing him.

In Professor Adira’s class, the Build-a-Pact demonstration turned into a cold dissection. Blood scent hit when our volunteer wolf-shifting partner came forward. I could taste the tension, a mix of raw animal musk and leather.

Atlas and I sat like rivals on dais. Jace at the side, stoic. Talia beside me, eyes too bright. I could feel her trembling.

Step by step, we guided our partner through blood-bond pros and cons. Dialogue fell from my mouth mechanically: “Step 1—ritual gauntlet…” I caught Atlas’s sharp stare verifying each note.

Next—questions from peers: “Can vampires bond?” “Werewolf’s control issues?” My throat felt tight like I’d swallowed shards of glass.

Jace answered one: “Vampire bonds rely more on mental control. Werewolf’s is…instinctual.”

Atlas growled softly.

Alex jumped in: “And diplomacy depends on…” She faltered. I squeezed her hand just for rhythm.

When class ended, professor researcher-style praised our group. She patted my back. “Well done.” I nodded politely.

“Keep refining.” She walked off. Tension loosened, chest relaxed, but only slightly.

…

Later, we reconvened in the research room, maps spread out, candle flickering. I sipped tea, trying to calm my nerves. My fingers twitched around the mug handle.

Alex began: “We could create a mock treaty sign-off between a vampire elder, a werewolf or Lycan alpha, and a human representative—”

Atlas scoffed. “We don’t need pretend humans.”

I snapped, quiet but clear. “Goal is to analyze balance, not us.”

He glared.

Jace spoke last: “Both sides use humans as buffers. That’s realistic.”

Atlas snorted.

Alex bowed her head, scratching pencil lines. “We can adapt.”

I watched them. Everything is spinning.