CHAPTER 76: _ LABYRINTH FEARS

~Heidi’s Point Of View~

Heidi doesn’t understand it. Not one bit.

She replays the striker scene again in her head as the last echo of the crowd dies away in the auditorium. The sharp metallic ping was when her fist barely touched the plate. The hum of the machine, the faint red flicker of its lights... and then, silence before the whole rumble. Like she had sucker-punched the sun. Sparks flying, smoke curling, students screaming, faculty leaping to their feet like popcorn in a hot pan. It’s absurd. It doesn’t make sense.

Because she knows she didn’t hit that thing hard enough to crush it. If anything, her knuckles had only grazed it.

So why does everyone act like she’s some kind of demigod with fists forged by the Moon Goddess herself?

The management had jumped in immediately, smoothing over the chaos. Faulty machine, they’d declared. Technology and magic can’t always keep up with wolf strength. Nothing to see here. Move along.

And everyone had nodded. Because of course—what else could it be? It’s not like Heidi, the girl who was human and could barely open a pickle jar weeks ago, suddenly developed Herculean fists.

So Heidi swallows that explanation, even though it doesn’t sit right in her stomach. She lets it settle there, sour and heavy, while she keeps her mouth shut and her eyes down. Because what’s the alternative? Believing she’s some secret powerhouse?

Hell, that’s laughable.

No, it’s better to just wait until the next time she’s tested, when she’ll see her real score, and her real strength. That will prove it. The striker had been faulty. Nothing more.

But now there’s the labyrinth.

The labyrinth is tomorrow.

And that’s what keeps Heidi’s lungs tight and her chest heavier than a sack of wet stones. Tomorrow, she and the others will walk into that place—untrained, unprepared, and the possibility of not walking back out feels too real. The labyrinth sounds like a place that doesn’t care about faulty machines or excuses but chews people up and swallows them whole. It’s worse that her own strength is not determined yet.

Hence, it’s not certain she’s qualified to be in there. The thought makes her skin prickle.

And then there’s the look. Amias’s look.

She’d been on the verge of collapsing when the headmaster announced her inclusion. When his commanding voice sentenced her to the labyrinth with the rest of the "eligible" students, as though she were nothing more than a chess piece to be moved on a board. Her head had whipped around instinctively, searching for... someone.

For Darien. The boy who had looked at her like she mattered, who had held her like she was something worth holding the previous night. Just one night, but it had been real. At least, she thought it was real.

Even though he had blatantly denied her earlier, a part of her still chose to pardon him, and make up any plausible excuse that could explain his behavior.

She’d hoped—prayed, really, that he would rise to her defense, that he would argue the unfairness of her inclusion in the labyrinth. That he would say she wasn’t ready. But when their gazes met across the auditorium, his eyes slid away. Cold and empty like she was air.

It stung more than she’ll ever admit.

And then, when she thought she would crumple entirely, Amias had shocked her. The cold Amias. The one she never expected anything from. He had stood for her. Spoken for her. Defended her place in front of everyone. His voice still echoes in her ears, steady and sure, like he had a plan tucked away somewhere. Like maybe, just maybe, he could save her from this nightmare.

But Heidi has learned not to trust plans. Especially not plans that belong to boys with unreadable eyes.

So she tells herself not to count on him. Not on anyone.

The Alpha is also cruel—ordering her into the labyrinth despite the risk, despite the fact that her eligibility is still in question. The Moon Blesseds are nothing but a pawn to him apparently. And tomorrow, the labyrinth will swallow those pawns whole.

The thought of it twists her stomach so violently she nearly bends over.

The auditorium is emptying now. Chairs scrape, voices rise and fall, and laughter rolls down the aisles. The incident with the striker is already fading into background noise, just another story for people to gossip about before they move on to more exciting things. Like the ball.

Heidi hangs back, hugging the shadows near the stage curtains, because the last thing she can handle right now is all those eyes, all those whispers. She can feel them anyway, though. The stares. The pointing fingers. The hiss of her name like it’s a brand-new flavor on their tongues. Heidi the machine-breaker. Heidi the glitch.

Her pulse quickens. She waits.

She sees Amias leave first, shoulders broad, posture easy like nothing in the world could ever rattle him. Darien and Isolde follow. Morgan and Grayson linger only a moment before trailing after them. Daphne leaves later, giggling with Lira, their heads bent together, hands brushing like they’re sharing secrets too sweet to keep inside.

And then, Heidi sees them. Sierra and her trio of shadows. Perfect hair, perfect smiles, and perfect venom. Heidi flattens herself against the curtains, praying they don’t glance her way. She doesn’t breathe until Sierra finally sweeps out, laughter ringing like glass breaking behind her. Only then do Heidi’s shoulders drop an inch.

She can’t afford to see Sierra right now. Whatever Sierra had planned for her could wait because she definitely isn’t going to go see her tonight like she was informed.

Yet, the "pornstar thingy" Sierra had referred to haunts her. But then again, Heidi knows she hasn’t done anything worthy of her being called a pornstar.

Pornstar thingy?

She doesn’t even know what the hell that means—unless biting her lip wrong at home is suddenly pornographic? Please.

It makes it so much more confusing about the hold the latter claims to have on her. However, she’s ready to damn all consequences for a semblance of peace and a few hours to process what’s coming tomorrow before they herd her and the others into a death ground where their survival chances seem too slim.