Chapter 14: Unspoken Wounds
The rest of the day passed in a haze of exhaustion and tension.
Every class was the same, nobles and elites whispering behind their hands, shooting glares my way, making it very clear I wasn’t welcome. The ferals in each class sat hunched over, their eyes downcast, too afraid to meet anyone’s gaze. I refused to do the same. I wasn’t going to cower. Not here. Not ever.
By the time the next class rolled around, my body ached from sitting so stiffly, my mind constantly on alert. It was exhausting, being surrounded by wolves who saw me as nothing more than prey.
At least I had one class with Callum. Seeing a familiar face was the only thing that kept me from drowning in the suffocating hostility.
The moment I spotted him, my stomach twisted.
His face was a mess.
A deep bruise darkened his cheekbone, swollen and angry. A cut just above his eyebrow was still raw, the dried blood cracking as he furrowed his brow. His lower lip was split, a thin line of red where it must have been struck. His uniform was slightly disheveled, like someone had grabbed him and shoved him against something. He walked stiffly, as if there were injuries I couldn’t see.
I gritted my teeth and stormed toward him.
"Callum," I hissed as I sat beside him, my voice low enough that only he could hear. "What the hell happened to your face?"
He barely glanced at me. "It’s nothing."
I narrowed my eyes. "That’s not nothing, Callum."
He let out a humorless laugh, finally turning his head fully to face me. "You’re one to talk. Have you seen your arm?"