Chapter 111
Chapter 111:
I was sitting in my Alpha office with Harvey Hester, reviewing the new quarterly budget, when my cell phone shattered the quiet professionalism of the room.
I glanced at the screen. An unknown Manhattan number.
“Ms. Wolfe?” a woman’s voice asked, her tone clipped and entirely devoid of warmth. “This is the nurse’s office at St. Jude’s Academy. We have a situation regarding Jaxon Blackwell p>
My heart plummeted straight into my stomach. “Is he hurt p>
“He was involved in a physical altercation,” the nurse replied. “We have been unable to reach his father, Grant Blackwell, or his uncle. As you are listed on his emergency contact profile, you need to come to the Headmaster’s office immediately p>
“I’m on my way,” I said, already out of my chair. I didn’t bother to grab my coat. I left Harvey mid-sentence, my protective instincts flaring so violently they completely overrode every other thought in my mind.
Twenty minutes later, my driver pulled up to the wrought-iron gates of St. Jude’s Academy. The elite Upper East Side school looked like an ancient, ivy-covered fortress. A few mothers in expensive athleisure wear lingered on the steps, their scents a chaotic blend of floral perfume and high-society anxiety. I ignored their curious stares and marched straight through the heavy oak doors.
The Headmaster’s office smelled of old books, lemon polish, and the sharp, sour edge of human unease.
𝗗𝗂𝘀𝖼о𝘃е𝗋 ոе𝗐 𝘴𝘵𝗈𝘳𝘪𝗲𝗌 𝗼n 𝘨a𝗅𝘯𝘰𝘃е𝘭s.с𝘰𝗆
I pushed the door open, and my breath caught.
Jaxon was sitting on a rigid wooden chair in the corner. His school uniform shirt was torn at the shoulder, and a dark, angry bruise was already blooming across his pale cheek. Yet despite his injuries, the seven-year-old pup sat with his spine perfectly straight, his jaw locked in a stubborn, defiant glare.
“Jaxon,” I breathed, rushing over and dropping to my knees in front of him. I gently cupped his uninjured cheek. “Are you okay? What happened p>
He looked at me, his bright eyes shimmering with unshed tears, but he stubbornly pursed his lips and refused to say a word.
“What happened, Ms. Wolfe, is that this boy viciously attacked another student,” a shrill voice interrupted.
I stood and turned around. Ms. Trunchbull sat behind the massive mahogany desk, her face pinched with disdain and blatant bias, as though she had bitten into something sour and found it satisfying.
“Jaxon is a gentle child,” I stated, my voice dropping into a cold, unwavering register. “He wouldn’t attack anyone without a reason. What did the other boy do p>
“The other boy did nothing!” Ms. Trunchbull snapped, her sour scent spiking with indignation. “Jaxon lashed out entirely unprovoked. Frankly, given his single-parent background and the lack of a proper maternal figure, I am not surprised by this savage behavior p>
The word savage hit me like a physical blow. A hot, blinding fury ignited in my chest. I had no Inner Wolf to bare her fangs, but the sheer, undeniable authority of a Luna flooded my veins. I crossed to her desk and planted both hands on the polished wood.