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Chap-9*He Wants Me To Follow Him.*

Cynthia Dion:

Mr. Holt dropped me off at home late that night. Thankfully, my father wasn't present, sparing me from another round of his abuse. However, it had been a few days since I turned 18, and I was biding my time, trying to save enough money to buy myself a cake and celebrate my birthday with my persistent sister, who had been pestering me for a cake.

Flora had always regarded me as her role model, and that terrified me because I felt far from worthy of such admiration.

Standing in the bathroom, I heaved a sigh as I regarded my reflection in the shattered mirror, offering a silent birthday wish to myself. Sadly, the funds I had managed to gather fell short of what I needed for the cake, forcing me to abandon the idea of celebrating my birthday altogether.

"All I wished for was to be accepted by my mate on my birthday," I whispered to the reflection in the mirror. Whenever I thought of him, a shiver would run through my body as I recalled the loathing in his gaze. He used to be so kind and genuine; had it all been an act? If so, why go through the pretense just to reject me, especially when the rest of the school seemed to find countless other reasons to torment me?

High school was a cruel place, filled with equally unkind students.

I tore my gaze away from my reflection only when my phone chimed, indicating an incoming text from my one and only best friend.

Mara: Hey, I know you wanted to celebrate your birthday tonight but couldn't arrange the money. Please don't feel sad or alone. I'm here for you.

A smile formed on my quivering lips; she was the only one who bothered to check up on me and genuinely cared. Blinking back tears, I typed out a response. She must have heard about the events at the party.

Me: It's alright. I've never really gotten what I wished for anyway.

Mara: Only the wealthy kids can truly celebrate birthdays. Let's not dwell on this tonight. How about I make your evening special?

Me: How?

Mara: Just do one thing: leave your house and meet me on G-Street.

I pondered her message for a moment, wondering if she was genuinely suggesting that I sneak out and meet her on the street, a location currently frequented by homeless rogues. While I had no issues with them, it was also a place where substance addicts often gathered.

Me: I can't! If my father catches me on the streets, he'll be furious.

Mara: Come on! I've bought you a cake. Please don't break my heart.

Wait! She actually got a cake for me? A wide smile stretched across my lips at the thought; perhaps I could even bring a slice home for Flora.

Me: Alright, I'm on my way.

Me: But I can only stay for about 10 minutes, no longer.

I wasted no time and stealthily slipped out as soon as she agreed.

Wrapped in a long, black jacket to fend off the cold, I dashed toward the street. This time, my shivers were more from anxiety than the chilly weather. I couldn't afford to get caught by my father.

Upon arriving, I instantly messaged Mara, as she wasn't immediately visible.

Me: Where are you?

Me: Mara! It's been almost 15 minutes now. Where are you?

With each passing second, her phone remained silent, neither responding to my calls nor my messages. Frustration coursed through me, and I found myself nervously twisting my fingers. She had urged me to come here, and now she seemed to have vanished without a trace.

"Ah! Aren't you Mr. Dion's daughter?" A voice other than mine broke through the silence, startling me. At this time of the evening, the unexpected voice left me on edge.

"I--" I tried to respond, but my words caught in my throat as the man emerged from the shadows, flanked by two more figures. I recognized him immediately.

Mr. Beret!

Caught in this ominous street with him was synonymous with inviting trouble. Mr. Beret would pay my father irregular visits, often subjecting me to his lewd glares. Beyond being my father's acquaintance, he was also our landlord, a street gambler, and a known creep.

"There was an urgent matter," I stammered, my gaze darting anxiously around to check for any prying eyes that might be observing the scene.

"What sort of urgency?" he inquired, a peculiar smirk playing on his lips.

"Medicine!" I managed to blurt out, unable to construct a coherent sentence. I shifted my weight and rubbed my fingers together nervously as he closed the distance between us, his scent heavy with the scent of alcohol filling my nostrils.

"Ah, medicine. But what kind of medicine? Are you perhaps on your period?" His gaze lingered on the shorts I was wearing, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he clearly noticed my discomfort.

"Come now," he continued with a sinister tone, dismissing my unease. "You're 18 now. I'm sure your father hasn't had these sorts of talks with you. I can help you under---" His words took a more sinister turn, and he abruptly grasped my arm, attempting to pull me along with him.

In that tense moment, a deep grunt echoed through the air, capturing our collective attention. Standing just behind him, his hands concealed within the pockets of a black jacket, stood a figure whose imposing stature easily overshadowed Mr. Beret and his companions.

The newcomer's voice resonated with authority and strength, causing the cigarette held by Mr. Beret to tumble from his fingertips and onto the ground. "There's no need for you to educate her," he declared firmly, his words ringing out.

"Alpha... Atticus, I was just..." Mr. Beret's voice quivered as he attempted to explain himself, his body trembling as if trying to placate the incensed Alpha. It was a sight to behold, watching the man who exuded arrogance now practically groveling in the presence of Atticus.

I stood there, utterly stunned by the unexpected appearance of Atticus in our neighborhood. Conflicting emotions churned within me, unsure of how to react. He had rejected me mere hours ago, and now here we were, confronted with each other again.

"Of course, I won't interfere if you don't wish it," Mr. Beret hastily backtracked, distancing himself from Atticus, whose gray eyes were fixed with a narrowed intensity on Mr. Beret's face.

"I was simply passing by and noticed her in this street. I thought I would offer my assistance," Mr. Beret stammered nervously, flashing a smile that was clearly meant to mask his fear. He exchanged a quick glance with his companions, silently urging them to make a swift exit.

It was evident to Mr. Beret that Alpha Atticus held a position of power in this neighborhood, likely due to his alpha status and the influence of his pack. In a place where life was already difficult, nobody would willingly invite trouble or risk their well-being by provoking him. Crossing paths with Atticus in such a manner was akin to inviting disaster.

Now that Atticus and I were left alone, his gaze bore into mine, unwavering. He uttered a simple command, "Follow me." I couldn't help but be taken aback by his audacity, considering the recent strained interactions between us. So, I shook my head in response, a gesture that visibly ignited his anger.

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