Free Web NovelChapter 151: Chapter 151
Irina’s POV
The weeks melted into a grueling, beautiful rhythm.
My life had become a strict, predictable triangle. I lived my days navigating between three fixed points: the tiny apartment, the university campus, and the sprawling Obsidian Holdings estate.
I woke up long before the sun. I fed Luka in the dark, listening to the rhythmic dripping of the leaky pipe in our cramped bathroom. I packed my canvas backpack, strapped my son to my chest, and braved the biting autumn wind to catch the early subway.
I would drop Luka off at the estate’s staff kitchen. Clara was always there, waiting with open arms and a warm smile, ready to spoil him. Then, I rushed back to the city for my morning lectures. After class, I took the train right back to the estate, changed into my crisp grey tunic, and scrubbed the imported hardwood floors until my shoulders burned.
It was exhausting. My bones constantly ached. I ran on cheap coffee and three hours of sleep.
But I was truly free.
I wasn’t a broken omega cowering in the shadows of the Iron Thorn pack house. I wasn’t bracing for Maxim’s heavy fists. I was earning my own paycheck. I was learning the complex miracles of human anatomy. I was building a real, safe life for my son.
The bell tower chimed, signaling the end of my afternoon biology class.
I packed my notebooks into my cheap canvas bag. I zipped it up, swung it over my shoulder, and joined the massive tide of students pouring out of the science building.
I walked down the wide brick pathway of the campus quad. The air was crisp and cold. Red and gold leaves drifted down from the towering oak trees. I was heading toward the subway station, eager to get back to the estate and pick up Luka. I hadn’t seen his bright, forest-green eyes since dawn, and my chest ached with the need to hold him.
"Well, well. Look who it is."
The voice was sharp. Nasal. Incredibly cruel.
I froze instantly. My worn sneakers stopped dead on the brick path. ƒгeewebnovёl.com
My hand tightened around the strap of my backpack. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The deep, ingrained trauma flared up violently in my chest. The omega instincts screamed in my mind. *Make yourself small. Be invisible. Do not fight back.*
I slowly turned my head.
The blonde girl from my very first anatomy lecture stood right in the middle of the pathway. The same girl who had deliberately kicked my bag into the dirt.
She wasn’t alone. She was flanked by three of her perfectly polished friends. They wore expensive designer coats and held pristine iced coffees. They formed a tight, intimidating wall, completely blocking my path to the subway station.
"Where’s your screaming little accessory today?" the blonde girl sneered. She looked me up and down, her eyes full of disgust. "Did you finally figure out that a university isn’t a free daycare?"
My face flooded with heat.
A hot, humiliating flush crept rapidly up my neck and burned my cheeks. I dropped my gaze to the pavement. I couldn’t look her in the eye. I was conditioned to submit to bullies. I was conditioned to take the abuse in absolute silence.
"Maybe child services finally got called," one of her friends giggled loudly, pointing a manicured finger at my frayed jeans.
"Or maybe she just dumped it," another added, crossing her arms. "She looks like she belongs in a homeless shelter, not a classroom. I don’t even understand how they let trash like her enroll here."
Their words cut like jagged glass.
They laughed. It was a sharp, mocking sound that echoed loudly over the campus quad. Several passing students turned to look at us. They started whispering. They started staring at the pathetic girl shrinking in the middle of the pathway.
My chest tightened painfully. I couldn’t breathe. The crisp autumn air turned to ash in my lungs.
The shame was completely paralyzing. My vision blurred heavily with hot, unshed tears. I just wanted to escape. I wanted the brick pathway to open up and swallow me whole. I took a shaky, desperate step backward, looking for a way to run.
Suddenly, a tall figure stepped right in front of me.
Asher.
He seemed to materialize out of thin air. He stepped directly between me and the group of girls. His broad shoulders completely shielded me from their cruel, mocking stares.
"Is there a problem here?" Asher asked.
His voice wasn’t warm. It wasn’t friendly. It was low, hard, and entirely devoid of amusement. It carried a quiet, dangerous weight that made the air around us suddenly feel incredibly heavy.
The blonde girl blinked in surprise. She looked up at Asher, her cruel smile immediately faltering. She took in his striking, handsome face and his thick, messy brown hair.
"We were just talking to her," the blonde said, her tone instantly shifting into something defensive but flirty.
"It didn’t sound like talking," Asher said smoothly. He crossed his arms over his chest, his golden eyes narrowing into a sharp, piercing glare. "It sounded like a desperate, pathetic attempt for attention."
The blonde girl’s jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," Asher stated coldly. He didn’t raise his voice, but every single word landed like a physical blow. "You spend an awful lot of time worrying about a girl who works ten times harder than you ever will. It’s embarrassing. Don’t you have a chemistry lab to go fail?"
The blonde’s face turned a violent, bright shade of red. "You don’t even know me!"
"I know exactly what you are," Asher shot back, completely unbothered by her outrage. "You’re a bully who kicks people when they’re down because you have absolutely nothing else going for you. Now turn around and walk away, before I report all four of you to the dean for campus harassment."
The girls stared at him in absolute shock. No one talked to them like that.
The blonde girl scoffed loudly, trying desperately to save face. "Whatever. She’s a freak anyway."
She turned on her heel and marched away as fast as she could. Her three friends scurried awkwardly after her, their designer boots clicking rapidly against the bricks.
I stood there, trembling violently.
The immediate threat was gone, but the adrenaline was still flooding my system. My hands shook. A single, hot tear spilled over my lashes and tracked silently down my cheek.
Asher turned around.
The hard, intimidating expression vanished from his face instantly. The sharp edge in his golden eyes melted into a deep, genuine warmth. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a clean tissue, and gently held it out to me.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly.
I nodded, taking the tissue with trembling fingers. I wiped my wet cheek, taking a deep, shuddering breath.
"Yes," I whispered. "Thank you. You didn’t have to do that."
"I wanted to," Asher said simply.
I looked up at him. The autumn wind ruffled his brown hair. He was so incredibly kind. He had helped me pick up my books. He had bought me food. He had helped me get a job that completely changed my life. And now, he was defending me from bullies.
In my dark, violent world, no one did anything for free. Every act of kindness came with a brutal price tag.
I clutched the tissue in my hand.
"Why?" I asked, my voice cracking slightly. "Why are you helping me, Asher? You don’t even really know me."
Asher looked at me for a long moment. A soft, easy smile touched the corners of his mouth.
"At first, I was just curious," Asher said. "But now I think you’re a good person. You’re strong, and you’re a friend worth making."
