Little feet, Big trap.

Third person’s POV

A knock on the door pulled Jason from his thoughts. He stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, one hand slipped into the pocket of his tailored trousers. He took a slow sip of his whiskey, his eyes still fixed on the bustling city beneath him.

“Come in,” he commanded, without turning to see who it was.

The door opened and Bane walked in, slightly bowing his head. “Our intel says Rhaella made a move today.”

Jason's lips curved into a slow, amused chuckle as he tapped his glass lightly against the window.

“That stubborn bitch!” he muttered. “I knew she wouldn’t just sit quietly in the corner.” He sipped, ice clinking softly. “What move?”

“She was on campus. To see a lecturer from the Politics Admin Department.”

That pulled a loud laugh from Jason. “Professor Wilson? Of course. It has to be him. Who else would the desperate little bitch run to?” He turned from the window at last, glinting his eyes. “She actually thinks a diploma will save her?”

Bane kept his head lowered. “Do we step in?”

“Not yet. I think I'm loving where this is headed.” He downed the rest of the drink in one swallow, then set the glass down.

“Get the car ready,” he ordered. “I’ve got someone to visit.”

Then, he shut his eyes, tapping his fingers in a steady rhythm on his desk as he thought about what to do. Slowly, the tapping stopped and his lips curved into a cruel smile.

“Bane, I need you to send some of our men to the pack hospital, have them on standby until I give word. Also, prep another team to follow behind me, dressed as reporters with cameras. They’ll ride in a separate car. I want them ready for a show.”

“Yes, Alpha. But, why not make use of real reporters?” Bane frowned.

Jason's eyes snapped open. “I don’t pay you to question me, Bane. I give the orders, and your only job is to f*cking carry them out!” He yelled, his voice carrying the weight of a threat.

“Yes, Alpha.” Bane gave a sharp bow and moved to leave.

“Tonight’s show won't just be a performance,” he murmured. “... it'll be your nightmare, Ella.”

He raised his glass in mock salute to the city below and moved to the closet in the corner of his office. He pulled out a crisp sky-blue shirt and paired it with a Rolex wristwatch.

Soon, Rhaella would learn there was no corner of the world deep enough to hide from him.

…….

Rhaella's POV

I gently pushed the door to our apartment open. The silence inside made my stomach twist, but relief washed over me when I found Mom asleep in her room. Finally!

The dark circles under her eyes had been eating me alive. At least tonight she looked peaceful. I pulled the blanket up over her shoulder and tiptoed out.

The moment I got to my room, I sank onto my bed, yanked off my cap and dropped it beside me. My eyes stayed glued to the ceiling and my chest felt so heavy. All I could do was pray within me that Professor Wilson would really come through for me.

My phone buzzed. I groaned, digging it out of my pocket.

Sylvia: Babe, you alive?

Me: Barely. I'm home tho.

Sylvia: Good. I still have one more paper. Ugh, kill me now. LOL!

Me: That's on you, baby. LOL! What course?

Sylvia: Courtroom procedure & Trial advocacy.

Me: Look at my future lawyer flexing already.

Sylvia: Shut up. I hate you.

I laughed out loud, shaking my head. That's Sylvia for you. Even on my worst days, she's a spark.

Another buzz.

Sylvia: So… how’d it go with Prof. Wilson?

I let out a breath and sat up. My fingers hovered over the screen. But, before I could type, another notification flashed across the top of my phone screen.

I tapped it open fast, my chest pounding.

“Rhaella, the campus is not safe. The board has investigators watching my office as the dean of your faculty. If you want to take your exam, meet me at the Lunar Crest Hotel, room 312, at 7 PM. Use the service entrance. And make sure you tell no one. Your future depends on discretion. — Wilson."

“What?!” My heart jumped into my throat. A hotel? Why a hotel? Goddess, the word felt wrong in my mouth. Fear hollowed my chest.

My wolf had been nearly silent for days, but now she stirred, weakly. “Ella, this is dangerous. What if someone sees you?” she whispered in my head, her panic mirroring mine.

I knew she was right. Every step outside feels like walking through a minefield lately. But if I stay, if I don’t go… a lot is at stake.

“I know, I’m scared too,” I murmured back to her. “But we have to do this so we can leave this place. Staying isn’t safe. Staying gives Jason and Dahlia power. Another chance to keep hurting us.”

But, can I really trust Prof. Wilson? He isn't someone who would put me directly in danger. I thought of calling Sylvia. Then remembered Professor Wilson’s warning about discretion. He was risking something for me; the least I could do was trust him. Sylvia still had one exam left anyway.

I was shaking but resolute. I would go, not because I wasn’t scared, but because I had no choice. Not if I wanted to survive, not if I wanted Mom safe, not if I wanted any shred of control over this nightmare.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to do some chores and make Mom a hot meal. I revised a bit afterwards, even though my mind kept running through worst-case scenarios. And By 6:30pm, I was done. I wore a black hoodie and a nose mask so as not to draw attention.

……

The Lunar Crest is a fancy five-star hotel. A place for rich Alphas and Betas, not for lowly omegas like me. We couldn’t even dream of affording it.

I found the service entrance like the message said and slipped inside. My heart pounded in my ears as the elevator came to a halt. I walked the long corridor, counting the numbers on each door until I saw Room 312.

I took a deep breath and knocked softly. The door opened and Professor Wilson stood there looking pale. His eyes were heavy, completely avoiding mine.

“Professor? Are you okay?” I asked nervously.

“Come in. Quickly,” he said, his voice hoarse. He was dressed weird in a big coat and a cap pulled down low, like he was hiding.

I stepped inside and pulled off my mask. The room was dim. “Thank you for doing this, Professor. I know it’s a risk, I just...”

“Rhaella.” He cut me off, his voice cracked and he looked so terrified. “I… I need you to trust me.”

Before I could ask what he meant, he moved closer to me and grabbed my arms. I struggled, panicking as his grip refused to let go.

“What are you doing?” I fought, my confusion turning into fear.

Still, he didn't let go. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

Then the door burst open. Blinding flashes of lights flooded the room and I raised my hand to shield my eyes. Voices yelled over each other as the reporters rushed in.

I stared at Professor Wilson, tugging his hand, begging him to say something, begging him to tell the reporters it wasn’t true. But he kept his face buried and said nothing. That was when it hit me, I had been set up.

Professor Wilson let go as if my skin burned him. He stumbled back, pulling his cap down low to hide his shame.

My eyes blurred with tears as I looked around because I knew there was nothing I could say that was going to save me. I walked straight into hell with my own legs.

Then, Jason’s polished shoes clicked against the tiled floor as he stepped forward and the reporters parted for him like water, still flashing their cameras and taking photos.

His eyes were locked on me and a slow, triumphant smile spread across his face. He shook his head in a mocking disappointment, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

“Rhaella,” he said at last, his voice dripping with false pity. “And Professor Wilson? Really? When my men told me they'd tracked you here, I thought it was a joke. I thought, no, the smarty-pants Ella wouldn’t be stupid enough to walk into a trap this obvious.”

Laughter rumbled low in his chest, not loud, but just enough to sting. “You never fail to surprise me.” He glanced lazily at the men with cameras, snapping his fingers.

“You can stop now. The show’s over.”