Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 65871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
“Where have you been?”
The RA confronts me on my way in. George is only one year older, but he acts like he’s more of an alpha than Alexei. He’s a lanky, nerdy guy who is doing a degree in security. There are rumors he’s been putting up his own cameras all over the place so he can keep tabs on us at all times.
“You were out after curfew. That’s an infraction. You’re at risk of losing your place here, and you know that losing your place here means dropping out, because all freshmen are required to stay on campus.”
His snide, know-it-all tone bothers me to no end.
“You think you own me?”
“I think I enforce the rules.”
“Fine. Sorry. Won’t happen again.”
The words feel like they’re bile rising in my throat. I hate saying them. I choke them out as impulses I shouldn’t have dance in my head. I’m not just some freshman to be threatened.
He looks at me with an annoyed expression. He doesn’t like my attitude, but I don’t owe anyone a good attitude. I go back to my room and get my stuff for a shower.
I expect to be greeted by Annette, but the room is empty. Kind of weird, but I don’t think too much of it. I’m running late, so I throw off the clothes I was wearing last night and put something more appropriate for class on. I’m hungry, but my stomach is also churning so I decide to skip whatever is being served in the dining hall.
The campus has a weird feeling. There’s more security around than usual. I notice that there are ambulances driving around the ring road. They don’t have their lights or sirens on, but there’s a sense of urgency to them that you don’t usually see on campus.
I try to focus on my studies. George the RA has actually succeeded in freaking me out a little. If I get kicked out, Alexei is going to be so mad, and I’m going to lose the one chance I have to make my mom proud.
“Anya Peters?”
My name is called in the middle of class. I startle awake, not realizing I had been napping. When I look in the direction of the voice, I see that there are three officers down at the front of the lecture hall, one inside the door, and two just outside it. There’s a buzz of conversation running through the lecture theater as I gather my things and head down to see what the officers want.
“Can I help you?” I ask the question with my arms wrapped around a stack of books, held protectively in front of my chest.
“You were out drinking last night,” one of the officers says.
I look around the assembled, solemn cops. “They send three cops for that?”
“No. They send three cops for murder.”
My blood runs cold. “Murder?”
“Come with us. We need you to answer some questions.”
I am starting to freak out now. The smell of wolves when I woke up… did I somehow attract a stray male? Did he attack my friends? Wolves don’t usually touch people, unless they’re territorial males looking to rut. Even if that is the answer, it’s not as though I can tell the police that is what has happened.
I am put into the back of a cruiser, and I am driven to the city police station. There’s a small station on campus, but they don’t take me there. They take me to a precinct with real holding cells and real consequences.
My head is spinning. The hangover and the comment about murder have me thoroughly freaked out. I am also suddenly realizing that I have no way of getting in contact with Alexei if I need to. I wonder if he knows what’s happening to me. I don’t know what’s happening to me.
I’m not put in cuffs, but when I get to the station, I am Mirandized by a very stern-looking woman who makes me repeat myself when I stumble a little too much over saying I understand it.
She’s tall, with short silver hair and the kind of skin that makes it apparent she has spent a lot of time in the sun over the years. Her eyes are narrowed and bright blue, inspecting me aggressively. Not like Alexei’s. His eyes are unique. Hers are different. Hers are mean. Hers have seen too much. I feel sorry for her, though I don’t know why.
“Come,” she says as she opens a door into an interrogation room. It’s not quite like in the movies. There’s not a metal table bolted to the floor, or a single bulb above it, or horrible metal chairs. There are horrible plastic chairs and a table that looks like it came out of a cheap office supply store, and a fluorescent light above it.
She takes one of the seats, scraping it across the floor in a way that sets me on edge. I sit down, scared as hell. I wish my mom was here. I wish I had her to call. I wish…