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Chap-8*Daddy Doesn't Have To Know.*

Cynthia Dion:

"Drink this; it will help keep your body warm." After driving for a while, Mr. Holt had stepped out of the car and returned with a cup of tea for me.

His consideration touched me deeply. I managed a smile as I accepted the cup from him, my energy levels low. The rejection had taken a toll on me; for several minutes afterward, I found it impossible to form words, until I was a safe distance away from Atticus and seated in the car with Mr. Holt.

"How did you know I like tea?" I inquired softly, my voice hushed due to my depleted energy. The aftermath of the rejection had left me drained.

"I didn't," he replied, raising the cup to his lips and taking a sip before explaining, "I happen to enjoy tea."

As I looked at him, a thought surfaced--why couldn't boys my age be more like him? A true gentleman.

"I'm not anticipating you to tell me everything, but it could be beneficial if I could be of assistance with whatever is troubling you. This is the second time I've come across you in such a distraught state on the road. It's not common, and as a wolf trainer, I can sense the tension in your energy." His voice was soothing, almost lulling me in its cadence. He was attempting to extract the source of my worries. I simply listened to him, refraining from answering until I recognized that he wasn't merely singing a soothing melody.

"Oh, it's just the usual high school stuff," I sighed, attempting to shrug off the weight of my emotions. "High school is a real challenge, and the other students can be so cruel. And, of course, being a rogue doesn't make it any easier," I chuckled softly, masking my vulnerability as I discreetly wiped away any tears before they could betray my emotions.

"Why not report those bullies to the principal?" His gaze had shifted entirely towards me as he spoke. His intensity compelled me to look away, unable to withstand the weight of his scrutiny.

"It's pointless. The principal would never stand against a pack to defend a group of rogues," I muttered, my disappointment evident in my tone as I spoke about the authorities. They tended to create rules that were enforced only upon the rogues and omegas.

The alphas and betas always held the upper hand, even the Royal Gammas were no exception. Targeting omegas or lower-ranking wolves was an unfortunate norm. Not that we hadn't made efforts to counter it. I once heard about a girl who was a rogue with a weak wolf, subjected to torment every day. No one intervened until she tragically died.

"I've heard your school is organizing a competition this autumn," he steered the conversation in a different direction, a shift I assumed was prompted by his realization that helping omega rogues might be an insurmountable task.

I responded, remembering the crumpled piece of paper that had slipped from my bag the last time he offered me a ride. "The Full Moon Contest," I mentioned, certain he had seen that paper. Nevertheless, every time I considered this opportunity that didn't seem meant for me, a flicker of hope stirred within me.

"I'm pleased to hear you've decided to participate in the contest," he said, a sense of approval emanating from his expression.

"Oh, well, I haven't," I replied with an awkward smile, my gaze momentarily avoiding his. Although I had the entry form, I was paralyzed by fear when it came to submitting it. After all, how could I compete against the powerful students with their formidable wolves?

"But why not?" His disappointment was palpable in his voice.

"No, I don't want to create difficulties for other rogues by losing," I fabricated. In truth, I was incapable of attempting it, even if I had the desire. I anticipated him understanding my predicament.

"Why do you believe you'd end up losing, Cynthia?" My body quivered upon hearing my name from his lips, and I subtly shifted to face him. His eyes were a captivating shade of emerald, challenging to look away from. I struggled to come up with an immediate lie in response to his probing questions, especially when he fixed his gaze on mine and inquired, "Has your wolf already awakened?"

"Yes," I replied, a smile forming as I acknowledged her presence within me.

"I meant, have you completed the transition?" His question struck me as peculiar; if a wolf awakens, the transition follows naturally.

"It's... complicated," I murmured awkwardly, my vision beginning to blur.

"I see," he responded with a frown.

No, I can't confess that my father forcibly suppressed my wolf, and the next time she awoke, she existed only as a mere voice within me.

"I can hear her, but... I can't transition," I admitted, biting down on my tongue to prevent further divulgence. My father would not hesitate to kill me if he discovered that my wolf had awakened and I had not informed him. It would only confirm his belief that I was utterly useless. My father had been waiting for my transition, as if he needed to extinguish the strength of my wolf.

"Please, don't reveal this to my father," I urged, gathering my courage and raising my gaze to implore him silently. His unwavering gaze observed me intently.

"I would never," his pledge that he won't disclose it appeared genuine. "However, you can't remain passive about it," he advised. "You can't merely exist; you need to fight for your wolf."

"I think my wolf is immobilized," I confessed, the words feeling strange as they left my lips. Speaking about my wolf to someone, after having been ignored and isolated by everyone else, felt surreal.

"There's no such thing," he reassured me, shaking his head with a comforting smile.

"Are you suggesting there's a way to restore my wolf's abilities?" My hope surged, and I kept my gaze fixed on his face, awaiting his response. When he nodded gently, a smile couldn't help but grace my own lips.

"I operate a training facility specifically for nurturing weaker wolves. I can offer my assistance," he shared, his tone carrying a sense of assurance. "I can aid you, Cynthia; it's not possible that your wolf wouldn't be able to transition, especially since both your parents are wolves." His words instilled hope in me; clearly, he was well-versed in these matters.

"I'd be more than willing to support you in any way I can. Take your time to consider it, and if you're interested, it'll remain our little secret," he smiled, his expression gentle. "Your father or anyone else doesn't need to know."

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