Sage's POV

The gates loomed before me like the jaws of a beast. I ducked my head as I passed through them and stepped onto the campus of Blackthorn University.

My thick glasses sat heavy on my nose. I had my teeth braces on, and it felt like wires cutting into my gums. I pulled my hair back into a tight ugly bun; it gave me a headache by noon. I wore big baggy jeans and an oversized sweater that swallowed my whole body in. I looked like nothing, and that was the point I needed.

My father died before I could form a memory of him. For as long as I could remember, my mother and I had drifted from pack to pack, never settling until we landed in Nightfall.

I was just an omega. And omegas with the wrong kind of face attracted the wrong kind of attention. That was how my mother had convinced me. But somehow, I'd sensed something else lurking beneath her words—something she wouldn't say aloud.

I glanced down at my watch and pushed the thought aside.

Graduate. Get a real job. Help Mom. That's what I should focus on now.

I clutched the strap of my backpack and started toward the academic building. Students streamed past me in clusters, pointing, snickering. Then a group of girls blocked my path.

The one in the center had platinum blonde hair, and the eyes of a snake glared at me. Blaire Sinclair. I knew her name because everyone knew her.

She was the daughter of the pack's beta, beautiful and cruel at the same time.

"Look at what the end dragged in," Blaire said. Her friends giggled. "Transfer trash. Do you even know what pack you crawled into?"

I did not respond to them, then I stepped toward the side, and Blaire stepped off with me.

"I asked you a question, four-eyes."

"I am a member of Nightfall Pack," I replied quietly.

Blaire laughed. "Barely Omega trash like you does not count. You are a charity case. Listen, girls, my father told me about her mother and how she begged for a place to stay. Begged like a pitiful dog."

My hands clenched at my side because I knew my mother did not beg. My mother healed Luna when no one could, and she earned our place.

But I said nothing because I could not afford to fight back. One complaint to the dean and my mother's job at Silver Moon General Hospital would disappear. Alpha Kael owned the hospital, and Blaire's father was his beta.

I step back from Blaire and turn around and walk down. My locker was in the basement. Someone had carved OMEGA into the metal door. I opened it.

A dead mouse tumbled out and landed at my feet.

Its eyes were wide open. Its body was stiff.

I kicked it into the corner—I'd seen worse—and pulled out my textbooks.

My class was statistics, and I sat at the back. The professor droned on about probability. I allowed myself a small, private smile as I took out my note.

I was good at this. School was the one place where I didn't feel worthless. Where I knew I had something to offer. And my grades were the only thing keeping my scholarship alive.

Without it, I couldn't stay, and without staying, my mother would be alone.

The girl next to me leaned over. "I am Sloane," she whispered. "You are safe, right?"

I nodded.

"Do you want to sit together at lunch?"

I looked at her properly for the first time. I'd noticed Sloane before—she was one of the few people who'd ever smiled at me in the three weeks since I'd transferred here. There was something soft in her eyes. Kind. And no one had ever asked to sit with me.

Something in my chest loosened, just a little.

“Okay,” I said.

Sloane's smile widened, like she hadn't actually expected me to say yes. “Yeah?” she said. “Cool. Great. I mean—” She laughed at herself, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I was prepared for you to say no, honestly. You've got that whole ‘don't talk to me’ vibe going on.”

I blinked. “I do?”

“Oh, totally,” she said, grinning now. “Very mysterious. Very brooding. I respect it.” She pulled out her notebook and flipped to a fresh page. “But just so you know, I'm very hard to scare off.”

Something flickered in my chest. I didn't say anything back. But I didn't stay away either.

The rest of the morning passed, and I went to history class and literature; then it was lunch. I sat with Sloane at the corner of the cafeteria. Sloane talked about her family, her pack, and her love for old movies. I listened but did not talk about myself because there was nothing for me to say. My mother worked double shifts. My father was dead, and I had no friend before Sloane; I had no life before this moment.

After the lunch period, I walked to the locker room to swap my book. The hallway was crowded; students pushed as they passed me. Someone else from the crowd shoved my shoulder, and some of them laughed. I kept my head down and turned around the corner and slammed into a wall of muscle.

My book was scattered on the floor.

I looked up.

He was tall with broad shoulders. Dark hair wet from a shower. A snakebite piercing on his lower lip, a tattoo crawled up his arm and disappeared under his black racing jacket sleeve.

Across his chest, red letters spelled out: WILDFIRE RACING.

His eyes were cold and dark; they looked at me as if I were something stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

My heart stopped.

Then it slammed back to life—too fast, too hard, for no reason I understood. I had never seen this person before. But my body knew something my mind hadn't caught up to yet.

"S-sorry," I stammered.

He did not respond; he just looked at me, stepped around, and walked away.

I crouched down and gathered my books one by one. My hands were still shaking.

“That's Zane Wilder.”

I looked up. Sloane stood behind me, her face pale.

“Future Alpha of the Nightfall Pack,” she said quietly. “Captain of Wildfire Racing. He's rich, dangerous, and completely untouchable.”

“Every girl who's ever tried to get close to him has been shot down.” Sloane grabbed my arm. "Stay away from him."

I nodded.

I meant it.

But my heart was still racing, and I couldn't figure out why.

After school, I walked past the bulletin board, and I saw a flyer that caught my attention. WILDFIRE RACING IS HIRING AN ASSISTANT WITH GOOD PAY.

I stopped for a moment, my mother's medical bill; it is pulling up already. Naomi Bennett works a double shift at the hospital, but it is not enough. I knew about her illness; she was hiding from me, and it was getting worse. I need money.

I quickly tore the flyer off the billboard.

I applied immediately and got an interview, and I was told to report to the garage after school.

The garage was massive. Race cars gleamed under the fluorescent light, and the smell of oil and gasoline filled my nose as I walked to Engine 7, the car I was assigned to inspect before tomorrow's qualifying race.

I opened the hood as I checked the engine, then I saw the brake line was too loose as if someone had loosened it on purpose.

My blood ran cold as I reported it to the head mechanic, wrote it in the maintenance log, and went home.

The next morning I heard the news.

Zane Wilder almost died during practice, and his brake had failed. Someone tampered with the car, and the maintenance log was missing.

The last person seen near Engine 7 was me.

Zane's voice echoed through the garage. "Find her. Now."