Her Four Shifter Mates : Betrayed

Chapter 4

Special thanks to my advanced readers for the edits and end of chapter questions. 

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"Holly, I'd like a moment to speak privately with Luke." Mr. Davies rubs the bridge of his nose. "Could you please wait in the hall?"

I feel a sudden wave of panic. I have to do something before Mr. Davies tells Luke about Mom's email. He'll never look at me the same again—no one at school will. Tears spring to my eyes, because there's absolutely nothing I can do. If I make a scene, Luke will just be more likely to believe Mom's crazy lies. He'll probably believe them anyway, so there's no point even trying.

"Holly?" Mr. Davies prompts.

I clutch my textbook tightly against my chest and spin around. Once again, my heels click against the linoleum, and I feel Luke and Mr. Davies staring at my back as I leave. With each step, I remember how Mom's too tight skirt clung to her backside. I let my backpack slip low like a shield and, feeling extremely self-conscious, race out of the classroom as quickly as my heels will carry me.

The hall is crowded with students, but no one pays me any attention. They're too busy talking, laughing, or rushing past me on their way to class. It would be so easy to join the crowd and slip outside. I could just keep walking; pick a random direction, ditch Mom's heels, and put one bare foot after the other. Then, I could finally be free.

I hold onto that dream for as long as I can, but if I had anywhere else to go, I would have ran away a long time ago. Maybe I should just ditch Luke and go to class by myself. After Mr. Davies is done reciting Mom's list of rules, and my supposed transgressions, he'll be glad I did. Mom made me sit and listen to a recording of her voice reading out the email on a loop for three straights days, so I know every horrible word by heart. One of the rules is that I should stay away from boys, and I would, if it weren't for rule number one. Holly needs to be watched at all times. If Mom finds out I walked to class on my own, she'll assume something crazy. I know she will. She'll convince herself I was off in some corner, injecting drugs, and there'll be no convincing her otherwise. Forget that I don't do drugs, own drugs, or have any way of getting drugs.

When I was still talking to my parents, I pointed out that if I were on drugs, I'd be going through withdrawal. When Mom didn't believe me, I said she should Google it, which resulted in a lot of incoherent yelling. Afterward, any time I did anything my parents didn't like, they said I was going through withdrawal. Talking back? Withdrawal. Not speaking for two solid weeks? Withdrawal. Staring at the ceiling? Withdrawal!

"Hey, Holly," Luke says, startling me. "What class do you have next?"

I take in his concerned face as he joins me out in the hall and start to feel a little sick. Does he believe all the horrible stuff in Mom's email? Does he think I need to be watched? Is he going to report back my every move? With trembling fingers, I unzip my backpack and take out the blue piece of paper. I don't even look at it, I just silently hand it to Luke and wait.

"Let's see here..." he runs his finger over the page. "English with Mr. Levi. I heard he does these dramatic readings—" Luke starts to lead me down the crowded hall. He slows his pace to match mine and keeps up a steady stream of conversation as we walk. He doesn't seem to notice that I haven't said a word, he's too busy sharing little tidbits about each of my teachers. I get lost in the comforting sound of his voice, and the panic slowly ebbs away, until I start to relax.

"Hey, Luke, wait up!" a guy shouts from across the hall. There's something about the deep timbre of his voice that pulls me to a halt. I spin around, the urge to look at him overwhelming me. It doesn't take long to spot the familiar-looking guy rushing toward us. He's moving his tall, broad-shouldered frame through the crowd with a lot more coordination than he showed this morning. As he gets closer, I notice that there aren't any bumps or bruises on his flawless face. The only proof of his collision with the tree is the small tear on his right sleeve.