CHAPTER 53: _ WAY TO THE CEREMONY II

The leather of the backseat sticks faintly to Heidi’s skin as she slides into the car. The scent of luxury inside is so thick, it feels almost like she’s in a foreign land which technically—she is. It smells of polished wood, faint perfume lingering from the sisters, and that crisp scent money seems to wear like cologne. She adjusts her dress nervously, careful not to crease the fabric Daphne had so dramatically loaned her.

The chauffeur’s gloved hands tighten on the wheel. Without needing instruction, he eases the black car forward, the quiet purr of the engine filling the silence. Heidi presses her hands together in her lap, trying not to fidget.

But the silence in this car doesn’t last long.

"Oh my goddess, do you know what I hope?" Daphne basically sings, leaning forward with her elbows braced on the divider like she’s about to deliver the proclamation of the century. "I hope that Nash, the Beta’s son, is my mate. Do you know what that would mean? That would mean perfection. Absolute perfection. My wolf better not dare pair me with anything less than him."

Heidi blinks. Nash? Even she’s heard or rather, read about him. The guy who braids his hair and has a smile that made girls practically swoon in the hallways. He wasn’t just the Beta’s son; he was walking arrogance in tailored suits.

Daphne isn’t done. She tosses her hair back, letting it catch the sunlight filtering through the tinted windows. "Seriously, if my wolf doesn’t match with him—or at least some high-class wolf, I swear I’ll never forgive her. Never."

Heidi tries not to smile. Imagine disowning your wolf on the first day it picks its mate. Typical Daphne.

"Shut up." Isolde hisses, rolling her eyes. She’s slouched lazily against the door, one leg tucked under her, and on her face is the picture of eternal boredom. "You don’t even understand boys. All that nonsense about ’Nash this, Nash that.’ It’s pathetic. Moreover, he’s the N from The NAY Boys. Darien will never let you be with a member of the NAY boys. You know they are literal enemies."

Daphne gasps as though someone just accused her of treason. "Hey, they are rivals, not enemies! And who is to say they can’t work things out? And did you say PATHETIC? Isolde, you’re one to talk. You wouldn’t know what romance looked like if it slapped you in the face. Just because you walk around pretending you don’t care doesn’t mean the rest of us want to die alone."

"Better alone than whining," Isolde mutters, tilting her head back like the ceiling might answer her prayers to be left in peace.

What follows is endless banter between the sisters that fills the car with heat and sharp edges. Heidi shrinks a little further into her seat, her pulse thudding against her throat. Their bickering might have been amusing under other circumstances, but her mind can’t stop circling the same dark pool of thoughts.

What wolf will I get? What if Grayson’s right? What if it’s a weak wolf, some low-level mutt no one respects?

Her stomach twists. His cruel laughter echoes in her head. Better come serve us later, Omega, when you discover you’re nothing special.

She grips the hem of her dress tighter. No. No. I can’t think like that. I have to hope. Whatever wolf I get... I’ll accept her. I’ll work with her. We’ll figure it out together.

But fear creeps in anyway. What if my wolf doesn’t like me? What if she resents being stuck with me?

She swallows hard and focuses on the hum of the car instead. Outside the tinted glass, the streets of the Alpha’s estate give way to the sprawling town. The sun is bright, people move about in bustling clusters, and banners for the Awakening Ceremony flap gently in the breeze. Everywhere she looks, there’s celebration, preparation, and anticipation.

Her stomach flips again.

Daphne is still going. "I swear, if I end up with some low-tier mate, I’ll just reject him on the spot. Boom. Done. No one can say Daphne deserves less than royalty."

Isolde rolls her eyes so hard Heidi thinks they might detach. "Reject him? You don’t even know what you’re saying. It’s not that simple."

"Please," Daphne scoffs, flicking imaginary dust from her sleeve. "Everything’s simple when you’re me."

If only she had my problems, Heidi thinks. The edges of the thought sting with bitterness. She’s worried about ending up with someone beneath her standards. I’m worried about ending up humiliated in front of the entire academy by her damn brothers.

Or worse, by Sierra. After all, she did say she’s going to come collect her favor today. The thought makes Heidi’s heart thump even faster as she guesses what Sierra could possibly want from her to no avail.

The car slows as they near the academy district, the roads lined with vendors hawking flowers, wolf-themed trinkets, even polished stones meant to "enhance awakening energies." Children dart between legs, clutching colorful balloons shaped like wolves mid-howl.

Heidi’s chest tightens. This is real. It’s happening. The day that will shape the rest of her life is finally here. She’s about to hyperventilate from the pressure when...

"Stop here," Daphne suddenly chirps, leaning forward.

The chauffeur glances at her through the mirror. "Young mistress?"

"Park," she repeats, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Isolde straightens, frowning. "Why? We’re not at the gates yet."

"Because," Daphne says, already smoothing her hair, "we can’t possibly drive into the school with a Moon-blessed. Do you want people staring? Do you want rumors?"

Isolde blinks at her like she’s sprouted antlers. "What do we care what people think? Since when do you–"

"Since always," Daphne cuts her off. "Unlike you, I care about appearances. So yes, Heidi will walk in herself. Alone."

Silence follows, heavy as a dropped stone. Heidi freezes, the words burning through her like acid. She’s so unworthy that even Darien’s sister doesn’t want to be seen with her.

Isolde’s brow furrows. "But she’s dressed up. Too dressed up. She’ll stand out even more walking on foot."

Argh...

"It’s fine," Heidi blurts before either of them can argue further. Her voice is quieter than she wants it to be, but steady. "Really. I’ll walk."

The words taste like surrender, but the truth is... a part of her wants to escape this car. Wants to escape the perfume-thick air and the sharp edges of their voices and the constant reminder of how far out of place she is here.

Moreover, she feels like she needs to be alone to process what’s lying in store for her the moment she steps into those gates.