Rejected by the Beta, Claimed by the Alpha

Chapter 162: Airport

LUCAS POV

"You know you can’t run away," were the first words uttered by the cab driver as soon as I slid into the back seat and told him to take me to the airport.

My spine stiffened.

Was he one of them?

Was he sent to stop me?

"I don’t care. Take me to the airport," I said, gripping the strap of my backpack like it could tether me to safety.

The driver looked at me through the rearview mirror for a second too long. Then, without another word, he nodded and started the car. My hand clenched the strap of my bag so hard I thought I’d crack the fabric. The engine gave a tired rumble, and the vehicle lurched forward.

He was human. I could feel it. There was no unnatural perfection to his features, no eerie calm in his expression, no freezing air surrounding him like the others. Just a man, probably in his fifties, with deep lines on his face and tired, weather-worn eyes that had seen too much. Maybe that was why I trusted him.

I didn’t look back at the gates of Memoville University. I didn’t want to.

If I saw them again—those cold iron gates, those Gothic towers shrouded by mist, those damned windows with watchers behind them—I might break. I might turn around and scream, or run into traffic just to escape the memories crawling under my skin.

The cab’s tires hummed against the road as we drove into the waking town. The sun had just begun to rise, spilling soft golden light over the tree-lined avenues. Everything looked so normal—quaint houses, a couple of people jogging, birds chirping in the distance. Nothing like the nightmare that festered behind Memoville’s gates.

"Are you from around here?" I asked, mostly just to hear a human voice again.

The cab driver chuckled, the sound low and bitter. "Let’s just say I’ve lived here long enough to know you don’t get to leave."

My stomach dropped. "You... you know about them?"

He snorted. "Of course I do. And I’d bet a month’s pay that’s why you’re trying to run back to whatever country you came from."

I nodded slowly, even though he wasn’t looking at me. "That obvious, huh?"

"Kid," he said with a weary tone, "I’ve seen your kind before. Fresh meat. Every year. You all show up bright-eyed and hopeful. Then you find out the truth and start clawing at the doors, begging to leave."

"Will they... will they let me go?" I asked, hating how small my voice sounded.

"Maybe," he said. "If they’re bored. If they’ve fed enough for now. Or maybe they’ll let you think you’re leaving... then pull you right back in."

That last part made my skin crawl. My fingers dug into the fabric of my bag until my knuckles turned white.

"How... how do you survive here?" I asked.

The driver gave a bitter laugh, one that sounded like it came from the depths of someone who’d seen too much.

"It’s all about picking your lesser evil," he said. "You either become a foodie to the vamps... or a loyal sex tool to the wolves." If you’re lucky, you’ll end up with one who doesn’t rip you to shreds in a fit of hunger or heat."

Every word slammed into my mind like iron bars in a cage. His voice, once calm, turned matter-of-fact—like he was telling me the options were either to be eaten slowly or used.

I gagged at the thought. "That’s survival?"

don’t fight the monsters. You choose one, and pray they keep you

I fell silent.

could I

girl in the garden—the predator hiding behind a gorgeous smile. The way her fangs pierced me. The horrifying mix of pain and arousal I hadn’t asked for, hadn’t wanted. Then those two men—those... wolves? The way

casually talking about choosing the lesser evil like it was a

place

few more minutes, the trees gave

And then... the airport.

pulled up just outside the departure gates. The building loomed before me like a cathedral, bathed in the golden morning light. I had never loved the sun more than I did in that exact

didn’t turn around,

try your luck. Maybe you’ll be one of the few who actually make it out. If not..." He paused, then exhaled. "Just remember what I

morning air hit me like a splash of water, and I breathed in deep—air that didn’t reek of blood

I murmured, barely able to get

shut the door, the cab

back to face

do was get on a plane and

Easier said than done.

*****

the airport, the smell of coffee and luggage straps felt overpoweringly foreign—almost unreal after being locked inside a nightmare for so long. I

Families chase each other. Business travelers clack heels

approached the counter—but I was shaking. My eyes still reddened. My voice cracked when I said goodbye to the Memoville nightmare. The agent looked at me closely, but speechless—possibly sensing how fragile I was.

almost collapsed. The metal detectors beeped and flashed as I walked through, but no alarms. No

Instead, I steadied myself and walked, step by step, toward the gate’s

mind, a part of me screamed: He told me I wouldn’t make it.The professors wouldn’t

But here I was.

lighting is harsh. White.

It felt safe.

phones. It felt normal. And after everything I’d survived, normal was divine. I clung to it like it could erase the smell of blood and

sat at the gate. Gate A3. Final

in what

Then the speakers crackled.

We apologize for

at first.

One girl rolled her

I just... froze.

no.

had to be a prank. Or weather. Or

survived the garden,

me I wouldn’t make it. He told

My legs refused to move. My backpack strap was digging into my shoulder, but I couldn’t make myself

the screen above the gate

for half a second—then

ALL FLIGHTS: CANCELLED

Reason: SYSTEM MAINTENANCE

Next Update: UNKNOWN