Chapter 2

　　Present.

　　Patricia.

　　Nineteen years old.

　　Life isn't fair. Dior has grown several inches during upper secondary school and has taken William's spot as the most sought-after guy. He is only seventeen but already the alpha of the Winterbite pack.

　　The guy rules with an iron fist, and anyone with a lick of sense knows there isn't a heart beating inside his chest. Unfortunately, everyone is too starry-eyed and blinded by his beauty and sheer power as an alpha to see the monster lurking on the inside.

　　The girls in my pack fawn over him like he is their idol, giggling whenever he glances their way. It baffles me how his pimples have vanished and been replaced by a face so beautiful one could mistake it for having been sculpted by an angel.

　　Yes, he is that gorgeous. Not only that, but his body nowadays is sheer physical perfection. Such a shame a boy so pretty possesses what I deem an ugly heart.

　　Dior thinks he is better than everyone else, always scowling with those unresponsive eyes. He also loves to enter my head whenever he pleases, which has made me consider going rogue—I haven't found my mate yet, but I can't handle the last year of school with the devil himself interrupting my train of thoughts.

　　With slow movements, I try to balance my food tray with my eyes set on the table where I was sitting moments before. The best part about living in Sweden is the free lunch the school serves, and I smile at the smell of tacos—I'm on my second serving.

　　"Hey, is that Patty Goldheart?"

　　Another voice laughs. "The nerd?"

　　"Bet you can't hit her!"

　　"Dude, watch me!"

　　My feet turn frozen at the paper plane landing by my feet, and a stream of discomfort rushes through me at the sound of Dior's distinctive voice chuckling from some table further down the cafeteria.

　　It feels like time moves in slow motion until I find his table, and I swallow thickly at the popular teenagers surrounding Dior.

　　I guess he found his people.

　　Ignoring the paper plane, I keep on walking and take a seat by my empty table. I'm such a pathetic loser.

　　Tiffany, my best friend, moved away recently, and these days I sit alone. The tables have turned—I'm a lone wolf, while Dior has mass recruited friends. People constantly circle him. Both humans and werewolves want his attention.

　　"Look at her sitting all alone!" Marcus flings his ugly smile my way, wagging his unibrow. He is on the same swim team as Dior, broad-shouldered and, frankly, the dumbest werewolf on earth.

　　A few girls giggle at the comment, and one girl, the one Marcus is currently dating, sends a mocking glance my way. Her name is Gloria, and I watch her whip her dreadlocks over a bony shoulder upon eye contact, and I roll my eyes before returning to my food.

　　"She is such a pig," Gloria speaks in this disgusted tone as if the mere idea of someone healthily eating upsets her. "Isn't that her second helping?"

　　Dior turns around, eyeing me with his infamous mocking expression. His trademark smirk takes control over his lips, and I inwardly recoil. Every time I meet his gaze, it's like taking a direct hit to the gut.

　　"Oh, big Patty is a plus-size, alright."

　　Wait.

　　Did Dior say what I think he did?

　　But I thought we had a silent agreement not to say mean things to each other when other people could hear? We only ever spoke through the mind-link. And damn, I might not see Dior as my friend, yet his words cut like knives for some reason.

　　Snickers fill the room, and horror packs my stomach. I stop eating, glancing down at my belly and wondering if maybe I should stay away from food. Tears prickle behind my eyelids, and when Riley, the slim devil in my class, walks past my table while laughing, I stand up.

　　I take my tray and dump my tacos into the trash bin. The word "plus-size" buzzes all over the cafeteria, and after I've ditched my food, a belt of laughter follows. Misery eats me alive, and I turn to stare at Dior with glazed eyes.

　　'I heard your birthday is coming up,' I'm broadcasting my voice through the mind-link, gaining the attention of every werewolf in our pack. Eyes turn my way, but I don't care. 'How about I buy you a mirror, so you can see the ugly person who you've become?'

　　Immediately, Riley's voice rings through the mind-link. 'What are you talking about—Dior is hot!'

　　I smile bitterly, happy to have gained Dior's attention. He looks high and mighty with his stupid, blowy hair and birthmark right below those baby blues. Sure, the ugly boy has bloomed like a flower, but his personality has only turned more rotten.

　　'Oh, Dior is cover boy pretty with a body sculpted to perfection, alright, but I wasn't talking about his appearance,' I smile at Dior, laughing inwardly at the shock visible on his face. 'I meant his personality—his ugly heart can be seen from a mile away.'

　　Dior laughs. 'Since you're so big, I bet you could be seen from a mile away too, possibly even from outer space.'

　　Everyone laughs, and my heart breaks into a thousand sharp pieces, but I won't flee the scene. Not yet.

　　'Congratulations—you just proved my point. I hope you're proud of yourself for bullying the girl already lying on the ground—real manly of you, Dior.'

　　With those words, I leave the loud cafeteria. No one cared about my last speech, except for Dior, who I caught expressing inner conflict. I hope I stirred something within him, nudged his heart made of ice.

　　I can't believe I used to consider enemy-boy my friend before the beginning of this semester. Sure, we never spoke kindly to each other, but Dior's presence used to comfort me. We were both freaks, but now, everything has changed.

　　Dior is one of the pretty ones now, which means I'm all alone.

　　With devastating certainty, I run down the corridor to lock myself inside a toilet. I'm close to tears, and I don't want a single soul to discover me if I suffer a mental breakdown. No one uses these booths, and I pull up my legs, blinking to keep myself from crying.

　　My gaze stays glued to the graffiti on the wall and various hearts with letters inside of them. I empty my mind, relaxing until I pick up on giggling girls outside my toilet booth. High-heels clickety-clack until they are both standing by the mirrors with the faucets running.

　　"Did you see Patty's face when she left the cafeteria?" The girl speaking is Larissa, a girl from my pack. I'm glad her nose isn't as good as mine, or she would realize I'm in the same room. "It was priceless seeing her glossy lips quiver."

　　"It truly was," The other girl, Juula, smacks her lips. She must put on lip gloss herself. "I felt sorry for her, though."

　　Larissa snorts. "Why?"

　　"Imagine being nineteen years old, and you still haven't found your mate yet. Patty must be so lonely."

　　There is a sigh. "It's sad, but honey—weak wolves like Patty, probably aren't even worthy of having a mate."

　　Both girls crack up while I sit there with my heart crumbling to pieces—a sudden urge to shape-shift washes over me. I want to feel the wind blow into my face, but of course, I can't shape-shift at school.

　　Instead, I rush out of the toilet booth, shocking both girls. Two dolled-up faces give me their full attentiveness, and I study the girl's open fish mouths for three seconds before I'm out through the doors.

　　Shit. Shit. Shit.

　　I didn't want anyone to see my tears!

　　My pace quickens. I don't know where I'm going, but I want to flee from here, find a place to recover mentally. My pack is hunting later, and I have to lick my wounds before then.

　　Suddenly, I stumble forward and collide with someone tall and harder than a rock. My eyes close on instinct, and I topple like a domino brick, groaning until a large palm is pressed to my back to keep me from falling.

　　"Thank you so much for..." I stop talking when I see Dior's gorgeous face hovering above me. He is exceptionally huge these days, taller than a tree. My heart hammers faster than ever, and I mentally curse my reaction to the handsome guy. Miraculously, I scowl despite some of my brain cells seeming to fancy him. "Oh, it's you. Nevermind."

　　He arches an eyebrow. "Is that what you say to someone who just saved you from a humiliating face plant?"

　　I glare at him. "I won't thank you..."

　　His lips curl into a feral smile. "Then should I drop you again?"

　　I back up from him, only to slip and get steadied by him again. Amusement shines all over his features. Dior is the most attractive guy I've seen in the flesh and the only guy with whom I've been in such proximity—the thought makes me nervous, but my bitterness towards the guy ruins the moment.

　　"Thank you," I mutter.

　　"You're welcome." Without withdrawing his hand, Dior's entertained lips move again. "You truly are a walking disaster."

　　I glare at my life's sworn enemy and straighten my back, desperate to get away from his hand currently holding me up. Dior is terrible news, and I jerk to the side, aware of his blue eyes following my every move. From his chiseled face to his broad shoulders and sculpted muscles, the man is genuinely billboard material.

　　Truly, Dior is the guy Disney channel would have recruited back in the day to gain viewers—his eyes are to die for, but unfortunately, the guy is an absolute asshole.

　　"You're always so nice to me when you speak," I sarcastically remark, flipping my hair over my shoulder. "A proper gentleman."

　　Dior gazes at me, and I can't help myself—I stare back into his enchanting eyes, regretting it when amusement seizes his features. Fuck me—he probably picked up on my appreciation!

　　A smile, one that is almost shy, spreads over his lips, but I shake it off as one of my hallucinations. "Are you... Are you checking me out?"

　　"Of course not!" I exclaim.

　　Dior stifles a laugh. "Are you sure?"

　　"Yes!" I almost yell. "I'm sorry, but not everyone finds you attractive!"

　　But I do, and I loathe myself for it—the traitorous brain of mine.

　　"Ouch," Dior chuckles. "Please go easy on me, or you're going to break my poor heart, Patty."

　　"Break your heart?" My eyes narrow, remembering everything mean Dior has done to me. He is practically the reason I'm bullied because everyone follows him. Dior calls me a plus-size, and suddenly, everyone shares his opinion. "You're the one who broke mine!"

　　Dior appears genuinely confused. "What are you talking about?"

　　I roll my eyes. "Don't play dumb with me—you're so intent on making my life hell that you don't even have to try anymore! That comment about me being plus-size? Thank you for that! Now everyone is looking at me like I'm this abomination, this fat fucking cow!"

　　"They do?"

　　"Yes!" Frustration is running loose within my mind. "Come on! You can't possibly be so blind that you don't understand that you won—everyone is bullying me, so will you please leave me alone!"

　　Dior suddenly bends his head back in laughter. "You think people are bullying you?" He looks me up and down with mildly entertained eyes, and it gives me the chills. "That's a ridiculous claim! Sure, you're the omega, but we care about you, Patty. And the guys think you're -..."

　　"Oh yeah? You care about me, huh?" I interrupt him, beyond furious. "Is that why you've turned my life into a living hell?!"

　　Dior's expression changes into something less friendly. "You're overreacting—your life isn't hell."

　　"It is hell!" I shout. "But you're such a cold-hearted bastard that you probably don't even realize that! You're a fucking joke of an alpha—you don't care about anyone other than yourself!"

　　"That is not how you speak to your alpha," Dior growls. "Consider yourself warned, Patricia. Another alpha would teach you a lesson for your impatience and disloyalty to your leader!"

　　"I don't care!" I throw up my hands. "Sue me, but make no mistake—you aren't a true alpha in my eyes!"

　　Something flashes in Dior's eyes, but I'm done. I walk for the doors, thankful that the idiot isn't following me.