You are Mine,Only Mine novel Chapter 25

Both the Stone Pack and the Crescent Pack has teamed up in an effort to keep me safe and patrol around my house at night. Weston no longer slept on my couch after he claimed I made a move on him. I snorted at that comment and muttered a sarcastic, "Yeah, right."

You're probably wondering why I never reported this to the cops. It's very unlikely that a teenage girl runs into a police station saying that a werewolf is assaulting her. You're probably also wondering why we haven't just ratted out Stacy to the Experts. Simple, we have no absolute evidence, besides the necklace and we have no clue to where she could possibly be right about now. Obviously, she's closer than we think.

Relief washed over me when I realized it was just the normal wave of students filing through the entrance. The usual shouting and horse playing erupted throughout the hallway. I saw that no one gave me suspicious glances or looked suspicious in anyway, besides those who had a reason to be. Such as the trouble makers or the drug users.

I made my way to my locker, twisting the rusty knob that squeaked a little with every turn. I groaned in frustration when it didn't open. I stomped my feet a couple times, like a little child would do, ignoring the amused stares of the people around me. I was already having a bad week. Even the littlest things made me angry.

An arm shot out above my shoulder, banging my locker three times in a rhythmic pattern. Miraculously, the locker opened slowly, squeaking as it did. I turned around to face Jarred.

"Thank you," I simply replied and gave him a small smile. "And good morning."

Jarred leaned against the lockers. He had dark circles underneath his brown eyes and he had a little stubble on his chin. His shoulders sagged in exhaustion. "Good mor-" he yawned deeply, rubbed his eyes, and shook his head furiously in an attempt to wake him up. "Good morning, Danny."

I sighed and looked down at my white ballet flats. "Look, maybe you guys should stop patrolling now. Nothing bad has happened so far. Plus, I don't want to be a burden or someone you always have to worry about when you have so much other important things to do."

"Danny, you aren't a burden," Jarred replied, defending himself. "There is nothing more important than a best friend's safety. Look, it's our job as werewolves to keep people safe. We're supposed to get used to this anyways. When we take our spots in the Expert council, that's all we're going to do.

"I know, but -"

"No buts, missy." Just when I was about to reply, the warning bell rang, signaling everyone to their homerooms and first period.

I reached up on my tiptoes and kissed Jarred's cheek. "Thank you, Jar. You're like the brother I've always wanted."

"But you already have a brother."

"No buts, mister," I joked and stuck my tongue out at him while shutting my locker.

I made my way to Mr. Jenkins's room, taking my usual seat next to Abigail. "Good morning D," she smiled encouragingly at me, telling me all hell will be over soon.

"Speaking of the devil," I muttered and groaned, ignoring Eli and Abigail's bickering again. It quickly ended when Mr. Jenkins told them they would have detention if they don't shut their mouths.

"I heard that," Weston grunted and sat in his seat. He glared at the board, muttering something incoherently.

"Okay class. We will begin on page 196 in your textbook -" I felt something hit the side of my head and land on my desk. My nostrils flared as I took the crumpled piece of paper and opened it up.

It didn't take me long to realize Weston's handwriting. 'I like what you did with your hair today. Did the washing machine do it? Maybe you should start a trend,' it read.

I knew I looked like crap. My appearance wasn't my biggest priority right now. However, he didn't need to remind me about it.

It took me a whole lot of my sanity not to bang my head on my desk. I gripped my pen tighter and scribbled something sarcastic on the note. 'How did you know I used the washing machine? :O I know you're creepy and all, but you don't have to stalk me,' I wrote.

I crumpled it back up and threw the wad of paper. However, I have bad aiming. So instead of hitting Weston in the head as I planned, I hit Jet. He looked up from his book, irritation crossing his features. I smiled apologetically at him, while he threw the paper at Weston.