Page 79 of Examining the Bond

Lana pauses with a chicken finger halfway to her face, her expression sagging. I know she wants to be optimistic—hell, I do too—but the harsh reality is that Riann may not want anything to do with me. She might have already found a pack to claim her, the way she said she would. Going after her might be a ticket straight to heartbreak.

“What if she’s hurting just as badly and waiting for you to say something first?” Lana attempts a weak smile, but it doesn’t meet her eyes. “Besides, isn’t it better to be disappointed than live with regret that will haunt you for the rest of your life?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

RIANN

The dean's office hasn't changed since the first time I saw it nearly two years ago. It has all the charm of a study you'd expect to find in an old, uppity school building. Every darkly-stained wood surface in the room is dusted and polished, every book on the shelves perfectly arranged like little soldiers meant to defend the highest standard of omega education. The strong smell of aged paper and treated leather crowds my senses, and the dean is droning on about the importance of integrity.

Neither he, nor the two professors lurking in the corner, believe me when I say I didn’t know the truth about my designation when I enrolled in the Woodside Omega Academy.

They think I’m lying.

How would I even know what a delta was if only one other person has ever been recorded in the world? Besides, the research center said they discovered the fourth designationlastyear, well after I enrolled. Do they think I did some kind of elaborate research to sneak into their prestigious establishment? Do they think that I—a nineteen-year-old academy student—am suddenly a designation expert?

I roll my eyes at the audacity.

Just because I missed handing in a few reports from the previous clinics doesn’t mean I’m lying. They all said the same thing anyway.

Inconclusive. Undetermined. Undesignated.

None of them could figure out what was wrong with me, despite countless work-ups and tests.How the hell was I supposed to know?

My gaze drifts to the left, where sunlight is creeping in through the half-open blinds. I can just make out a sliver of the quad, a huge spread of grass and trees where Ziel and I hang out when it's warmer. Now, with the distinct threat of winter approaching, all the trees are bare. But at least it’s not as cold as Boston.

Boston.

The word strikes a chord in me, but I stave off the unpleasant thoughts encroaching on the edges of my mind. I've done well to keep my mind off of everything, but it isn't because I don't want to remember it all. With the threat of my expulsion looming over my head, I can't take any more heartache right now.

Once I'm sure of my future with the academy, then maybe I'll start to relive my memories and let myself heal?—

“Miss Saunders.”

My eyes snap back to Mr. Schwartz to find him leering at me over stacks of my medical records on his desk. He's broad and bald, with far more intimidating aura than a beta has any right to have. A wisp of a gray mustache curls over his thin lips.

If he didn't have the same, icy eyes as my best friend, I’d struggle to believe they're related. They look nothing alike.

“Are you even listening?” he asks, a distinct edge to his voice.

Shit.

I was letting my mind wander again and missed whatever he said. I really should be paying attention and trying to stay on his good side, considering he holds my entire academic future in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” I say with a wince. “Can you repeat that?”

“I asked if these were all the documents from the Buchanan Clinic?” he repeats, looking less than impressed.

I nod, not even wanting to hear the name of the research center.

“That's everything.”

“Hmm, how curious.” He sounds disappointed more than anything else. It’s exactly the same way he sounded the last time I sat in this chair.

When the academy doctor worked out I had a rut last month, he reported it straight to the dean, who dragged me into this office while I was having a mental breakdown. He probably thought I was lying then too.

“I truly am sorry, Miss Saunders. This is a school for omegas. I can't allow you to continue your enrollment here at the academy unless you are confirmed to be an omega.”

An invisible hand wraps around my heart and squeezes at the verdict, cutting off the air to my lungs.