Penelope's POV
I stood in front of the mirror, holding up two dresses and comparing them against myself. The pale, slender girl in the reflection had delicate features but looked timid, brimming with unease. Finally, Mia couldn't take it anymore and spoke up: "Even if you stare at it for another hour, that dress isn't going to get any cheaper. But this store is about to close."
"I know, Mia, but the cheaper one is way too revealing. The neckline is too low." I held up the spaghetti-strap dress on my right—the bodice barely covered my nipples. If I moved too much, it would definitely slip, and I'd end up flashing everyone.
Mia rolled her eyes. "You're exaggerating. It's at least five centimeters past your nipples. Trust me, you won't have a wardrobe malfunction. And most importantly, it's a hundred bucks cheaper."
I sighed helplessly. Mia was right. While the other dress was closer to what I'd envisioned, the price of this one was too good to pass up. I mean, ten centimeters less fabric for a hundred dollars less? Any smart person would make the same choice.
"It really won't slip?" I eyed myself in the mirror, doubt lingering.
Mia waved a hand dismissively. "Relax, we're going to a prom tomorrow, not hurdling. How would you even flash anyone?"
Still hesitant, I put the more expensive dress back and followed Mia to the checkout counter. For days, I'd been observing her, but she seemed completely normal—at least, she didn't look like someone who'd betrayed me.
"Tomorrow," Mia said casually as she handed me the bagged dress, "is your brother coming?"
"Huh?" I blinked. "You mean Austin?"
"Yeah. Emma's going to the prom too, right? He dotes on her so much—he'll probably escort her to the Versailles Hotel, won't he?"
The memory of Austin's humiliating whisper flashed in my mind, sparking irritation. "I don't know," I replied coldly.
Mia seemed taken aback by my sudden sharpness. She studied me for a moment but ultimately said nothing, looking away.
Before heading home, I stuffed the dress into the bottom of my backpack and tossed the shopping bag in the trash. As usual, I slipped in through the back door—only to find the house dark and empty.
No one was home.
Maybe it was guilt, but I tiptoed upstairs like a thief.
"What are you doing here?"
"AHH!!!"
I nearly jumped out of my skin. Turning, I saw Austin standing behind me, his presence sudden and silent.
Damn it! Why him again?
"Where were you tonight?" Austin demanded.
"I… I was at my part-time job," I mumbled, omitting the shopping trip.
"Why so late?"
"I—" My mind raced for an excuse before I realized—Austin knew my usual schedule. The realization left me blank, like I was missing something but couldn't grasp what.
"The restaurant was packed, so I had to stay late," I blurted, seizing the first plausible lie.
Austin's eyes narrowed suspiciously. My heart pounded.
Would he know I'm lying? What if he checks my bag? Will I even make it to prom tomorrow?
I gripped my backpack straps tightly. Just as I was about to cave, Austin said, "I have something to take care of tonight. I won't be back until tomorrow evening."
I nodded, confused about why he was telling me this. Not that he bothered to explain—he just walked away.
I exhaled heavily, feeling like I'd narrowly escaped disaster.
All night, my mind churned with fragmented thoughts—prom, Zayn, Scott, Mia, and finally, Austin's cold, piercing gaze, which lingered until I fell asleep.
In my dream, I was back to the first time I met Austin.
Back then, he'd actually been kind to me. But at some point—maybe when they found out I had no wolf, or later, when I hit puberty—he stopped smiling at me altogether.
By the time I fully woke up, it was already 2 PM. I scrambled out of bed, rushing to shower, shave, and then head to Mia's to beg for her help with makeup and hair. After that, we'd change and head to the hotel together. Truth was, I didn't own decent makeup, let alone know how to apply it, so Mia was my only hope.
By 5 PM, we were finally ready. We hurried to the Versailles Hotel, arriving just before 8. The Versailles was one of the most luxurious hotels in the area, famous for its opulent Baroque-style decor. Emma had celebrated her 16th birthday here—but of course, I hadn't been allowed to attend. This was my first time stepping inside.
The lobby was breathtaking. A cascading crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, adorned with brass and diamond-encrusted floral motifs. Every wall was covered in intricate murals, some even paired with marble sculptures that made the scenes look alive.
The crowd was a sea of elegance and wealth. I clutched Mia's borrowed blazer tightly, too intimidated to take it off, feeling utterly out of place.
"Come on, Penelope. Take the blazer off, or what's the point of buying that dress?" Mia was buzzing with excitement. Then she gasped, pointing ahead. "Oh my god! Penelope, look! Harper's here!!!"
Her shriek drew stares. I quickly clamped a hand over her mouth. "Keep it down!"
Mia grabbed my arm, pulling me forward. Following her gaze, I saw a stunning golden-haired girl—taller than most, radiant as a celebrity—standing at the center of the crowd in a dazzling gold gown.
Harper Willis. From the same pack as Zayn—Night Shade Pack. Rumor had it she was his destined Luna. Harper was my polar opposite. If I was the invisible NPC at school, she was the protagonist—talented, charismatic, academically brilliant, and blessed with a powerful gray wolf.
I glanced at Harper, then down at my ill-fitting blazer. After a brief internal battle, I finally slipped it off.
Good job, Penelope, I encouraged myself.
The dance hadn't officially started yet. Not wanting to trail after Mia, I retreated to a quiet corner, hoping to avoid Emma.
"Hey, do you have a date tonight?"
I turned to see Henry, a classmate, standing behind me. He gave an awkward smile. "My partner canceled last minute. Would you… maybe want to be my date? You look incredible. I'd be honored."
I froze. This was the first time a guy had ever asked me out.
"Oh, I'm Henry Carter," he added hastily when I didn't respond. "From Class 3. Which class are you in?"
Oh my god. He doesn't even recognize me.
The realization left me speechless. Before I could figure out how to decline, a commotion erupted across the room.
"Zayn King is here!!!" someone shouted.
I whipped around. A man with the sculpted beauty of a Greek god stood at the entrance. Dressed in a sleek black suit, tall and commanding, his presence alone sent waves of screams through the crowd.
Then it hit me—a rich, woody scent, like Terre d'Hermès, flooding my senses. My body burned, my legs weakened, and I nearly collapsed against Henry.
At the same time, the man at the door stiffened. His gaze cut through the crowd, locking onto me.
Our eyes met.
One word echoed in both our minds.
***Mate.