Cynthia’s POV: Mr. Holt left after dropping me in the parking lot, but I had this one question in my mind that I needed an answer to. "Why would Dad want me to participate in this contest?" I stroked my chin, keeping my head down when walking towards the entrance, thinking, "Of course, he's doing it for the money." I had the answer to the question myself. My father was only interested in money. He would sell me even if it came to that point. I had only walked up to the main entrance gate when somebody stepped between me and the gate. "Move!" I didn't even raise my head and mumbled to Enzo. I recognized him from the hand tattoo. "I'm only here to ask you about your wounds. Why aren't they healed yet? Did you not transition last night?" He sounded forceful when demanding to have a conversation with me. "We rogues are not allowed to transition whenever we want," I grunted, thankful because that messed-up rule was saving my life. "I can write you a permission letter," he shrugged. "Why isn't your father dropping you home?" It was then that he revealed the real reason he had come to speak to me. "Why are you asking me all these questions? Since when have I been obliged to answer your queries?" I frowned, thinking maybe that would help him to get out of my way, but it didn't work at all. He was pretty stubborn. "Answer my question," he uttered. "You don't need to. I will heal in my own time," I excused, trying to walk past him, but he blocked my way again. "Why isn't your father coming to drop you off?" He repeated himself, but this time he sounded harsher. "Why is it your business?" I scoffed, raising my eyes and realizing he didn't look concerned. He looked angry. "I am--," he stopped talking when he saw a teacher getting out of her car and coming our way. He fixed his posture and relaxed his muscles. These alphas were too concerned about their reputations. Apparently, being seen with a rogue wasn't a good impression. I decided to leave while the teacher was on her way to us. "Don't bother about my private matters, Enzo," I whispered and sprinted into the school before the teacher approached us. I had noticed some weird glares from the teachers recently, and I assumed it was because they thought I was becoming a menace. Not paying too much attention to that issue was the best idea. I reached the counter, where most of the students were gathered to receive my file. After Atticus filled out the form for me, I was supposed to check all the details and then hand it back to the teacher. The instant I held my file, I noticed something else Atticus had done. He had marked his own name in the section where I was supposed to select a trainer.Why did he circle his name when he gets so tired of my sight? It could be his way of punishing me without getting questioned. "Are you going to keep looking at it or hand it over already?" Mrs. Virginia rolled her eyes at me for the delay. Half of her face showed her wolf form. It was said that she was one of the students who became a victim of the vicious werewolf transition on the school's grounds. Her eyes and lips were much more red than blue on one side of her face. Her wolf would even speak loudly whenever they were communicating, poor her! "Hello!" She snapped her fingers in front of my face and then frowned angrily before snatching the form out of my hands. Needless to say, she hated the rogues. Mrs. Virginia stamped a small card with my name and my trainer's name on it and handed it back to me. "Go! Show it to your trainer and clear the line now," she babbled, looking annoyed. I nodded, squeezing myself out of the crowd to go see Atticus. I was scared of practicing with Atticus' team because I was too insecure about my condition. But a little hope was born inside me ever since Mr. Holt told me that he thinks my wolf will be flamboyant, if not powerful. Our training session was going to be in the backyard, divided for every trainer and his trainees. I was first supposed to show my trainer the card I had received. I marched over to the classroom and found it empty, with only one desk in the middle where Atticus was marking the attendance. The training was mandatory after we signed up for the contest. "Cynthia Dion!" As soon as I stepped inside the room, I announced my attendance. He took a brief pause before saying, "Show me your card!" He didn't seem to be in a good mood, but that was just how he was every day. I set the card down on the counter while I waited for him to sign it and enter my name into the register after signing. He kept his head down when he cleared his throat, but his voice still came out rough: "Who was it?" I stared at his face, collecting the card, and wondered what he was on about. "I'm sorry, who?" I asked in bewilderment. "The man who dropped you off at school today," he wasn't moving his muscles anymore, "Isn't he the same guy you claimed to be mated to?" He continued to ask. "I don't see why you can qu--," I was trying to tell him to mind his own business, but he wasn't in the mood for any of it. He slammed his hand on the desk and raised his head. I could see the redness forming in his eyes. The angry glare made me bite my tongue. "Have I not told you not to meet him again?" He grunted, "Who is he to you?" He asked the same question he had asked me before. I didn't understand why he was acting like we were still mates."Cynthia!" The way he said my name with a clenched jaw was a sign I needed to be careful with what I said to him.