The Apocalyptic Queen's Werewolf Journey (Thora and Darius) novel Chapter 15

**Chapter 15: Engagement**

**Thora’s POV:**

The moment the bell rang, the teacher bolted from the classroom, as if we were a pack of wild beasts unleashed from captivity.

Beside me, Luke was a bundle of nerves, his fingers racing across the keyboard as if trying to outrun his own anxiety. I noticed a bead of sweat trickle down his temple, glistening under the harsh fluorescent lights.

Curiosity piqued, I leaned over to catch a glimpse of his screen, and there it was—an error message flashing ominously. “Line 340 has a transmission error. It conflicts with the driver layer,” I remarked lightly, hoping to ease his tension.

His head snapped around, and I saw the shock etched across his face, magnified behind his glasses. It was as if he was seeing a ghost. He quickly navigated to line 340, adjusting the code as I suggested. To my relief, the error message vanished, leaving a blank slate of hope behind.

“Th… thanks!” he stammered, his voice dry yet tinged with disbelief and a hint of joy.

The room was abuzz with whispers, all eyes darting between Luke and me. “Luke actually talked. Has Thora really changed this time?” murmurs floated around us like a thick fog.

I chose to ignore the prying gazes and the gossip swirling in the air. “You’re welcome,” I replied, standing up to leave. A sense of urgency bubbled within me; I craved to explore the campus alone. This place might very well become my home for years to come, and I wanted to soak in every detail.

As I made my way through the hallways, I could hear snippets of conversation trailing behind me.

“Since when did Class F get a hottie? He looks powerful—must be a strong pack heir,” one voice remarked, dripping with envy.

“No, look closer. That’s Thora. Short hair and pants—that’s all,” another responded dismissively.

“I heard she ran with rogues. They used her … ruined her body,” a third voice chimed in, filled with disdain.

“Sure is a lowborn mixed-blood. Gross,” someone else added, their tone laced with contempt.

A frown creased my forehead.

Hazel must have been the source of these malicious rumors, spreading them like wildfire throughout the school.

She had already received a slap for her antics, yet it seemed the lesson had slipped from her mind entirely.

I made a mental note to “have a chat” with her later.

Suddenly, a tall boy with a clean-cut face stepped into my path, blocking my way. His tie hung loosely around his neck, and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets. He exuded an air of casual annoyance.

“You, Thora?” he asked, his gaze sizing me up, disbelief clear in his tone.

“Do you need something?” I replied, my voice steady and calm. I rifled through my memories, searching for the connection.

Caleb Lawson—he was the only grandson of the Argenvale Pack alpha next door.

The Argenvale and Silverleaf Packs had once stood as allies. Rio Lawson, the current Argenvale alpha, had been a comrade of Marlon’s in the past. Even now, he commanded the border defenses with an iron fist.

Marlon had retired six months ago due to a serious injury, leaving Norman to uphold the family’s honor with his colonel’s rank. The Argenvale’s stature now overshadowed our own.

Years ago, Marlon and Rio had arranged marriages between their families to fortify their alliance.

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