bel

elt like a deliberate provocation, designed to get under my skin and push my buttons. It was as if he took pleasure i

ke a petulant child throwing a tantrum. The force of my shoe connecting with the floor, the sharp stabbing motion, was a release of the pent-up emotions that threatened to consume me. Around me, the whispers and shrieks of my classmates grew louder, their voices blending together in a cacophony of gossip and speculation. I knew, without a doubt, that they were talking about me, dissecting my every move and reaction with a morbid fascination. But I refused to give them the satisfaction of acknowledging the

is my mate" rang in my ears, echoing through my mind like a never-ending refrain. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, couldn't process the implications of his claim. To be called his mate, to have him publicly acknowledge our connection in such a bold and unequivocal way, was a shock to my system. I felt exposed, vulnerable, as if all eyes were suddenly on me, judging and evaluating my worthiness as the chosen one

s. I knew, without a doubt, that it was him, that he was the one guiding me back to the front of the room, the one taking control of the situation and asserting his dominance. But even as I allowed myself to be led, even as I followed his silent command, I couldn't find the words to express what I was feeling. My cheeks burned with a fierce blush, the heat of my embarrassment spreading across my face like wildfire. I lowered my head, my eyes f

voice, raised in a commanding shout, carried a weight that could not be ignored or denied. The student in question, the unfortunate target of his ire, had no choice but to comply, to scramble out of the chair with a mix of fear and resentment. But even as they vacated the seat, even as they stepped aside to make way for me, there was a palpable tension in the air, a sense of unease and anticipation. Noah's words, his declaration that I would now si

on on my own, but the fire in his eyes, the set of his jaw, made it clear that he would not be swayed. He was a force to be reckoned with, a man who would stop at nothing to protect what he considered his own. And in that moment, as much as I wanted to

inued to defy him. The thought of him unleashing his fury on an innocent bystander, of causing harm to someone else because of my stubbornness, filled me with a sense of dread and guilt. I couldn't bear the weight of that responsibility, couldn't live with the knowledge that my actions had brought pain and suffering to another. So, with a heavy heart and a

e suffering of others. My heart, pure and innocent, recoiled at the thought of causing harm or bringing trouble to those around me, even if they had wronged me in the past. The memories of the bullying, the cruel taunts and vicious rumors that had followed me throughout my school years, still stung, still left scars on my soul that had yet to fully heal. But even in the face of their cru

ears, every defense mechanism I had put in place to protect myself from the scrutiny and judgment of others. But there was also a sense of liberation, a feeling of empowerment that came with breaking free from the confines of my own self-imposed limitations. For the first time, I had the courage to step out of the shadows, to claim my rightful place in the spotlight and face the world head-on. It was a daun