Mated To The Ice Pack

Naeva Quinn

Tuesday went by fast and upon realization, it was already tutoring time. I came prepared. Okay, maybe not emotionally. But I packed snacks—salty chips, chocolate-covered almonds, and those little yogurt drinks my mom still buys like I’m ten.

Plus a fat stack of worksheets, three pens, and the best weapon in my arsenal: zero patience. If I was going to be forced into tutoring five ego-fueled hockey players, they weren’t getting my fear. Just my math skills and maybe some sarcasm.

Room 201 was warm again, too warm. The same heater hummed in the corner. I walked in before the bell and dropped my bag loud on the desk.

Camden was already there, seated like he owned the building, legs stretched out, arms crossed. He didn’t even glance at me.

Theo entered next, nodded politely, and sat near the front. Jax came in bouncing a hockey puck like he’d never heard of rules. Cassian followed slowly, his cane tapping gently, eyes locked on me. River was last. Same hoodie. Same unreadable facial expression.

I passed out worksheets and dropped a bag of almonds in the center of the table.

“No one’s dying on my watch today,” I said. “Now open to page three. Algebra—solving for x.”

Camden didn’t move. Theo already had the answer before I finished talking. Jax popped an almond in his mouth and asked, “Wait, is this still algebra or chemistry?”

“It’s algebra,” I deadpanned.

“Right. That’s the one with the triangles?”

“That’s geometry.”

“Oh.” He winked. “I’m just here for moral support.”

Cassian chuckled under his breath. “You’re doing great.”

River hadn’t touched his book. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, staring. Not in a creepy way. What the hell are you? way. My skin prickled. I ignored him.

“Alright,” I said, walking to the board. “Let’s warm up. Solve this.”

I wrote out an equation and pointed the marker at Camden. “You. Go.”

He didn’t move.

“Problem too hard for the great Camden Wolfe?”

His eyes flicked up slowly. “You want me to solve it?”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point of tutoring.”

He stood up, walked to the board and solved the equation faster than I expected. Flawless, but added a correction to my variable placement. Then he dropped the marker in the tray.

Theo smirked.

“Fine,” I said. “Show-off.”

Camden went back to his seat, silent again.

I kept the session moving, calling on each of them, switching between math and history review. But the tension never left. River hadn’t spoken once. Every time I looked at him, his eyes were already on me.

And then, just as I handed Theo a new worksheet, the lights flickered.

I paused. No one said anything. But all five guys reacted subtly but sharply.

River’s shoulders stiffened. Camden straightened. Theo stopped writing. Cassian tensed. Jax, for once, went still.

The air shifted. It got heavy and then dense. My ears rang for no reason.

“What just—”

A sharp pain hit my face. I touched my nose and I felt blood.

“Oh my God.” I stumbled back, hand over my nose.

Theo was already on his feet, pulling tissues from his bag. Camden stood frozen, eyes locked on mine.

“Is she...?” Jax whispered.

“She’s bleeding,” Theo said.

“No,” River said quietly. “She’s reacting.”

“To what?” I said, voice muffled under the tissue.

River didn’t answer.

Camden walked over and handed me a water bottle. “Sit down.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

I sat anyway. No one spoke after that. No more math. No jokes. Just silence.

When the bell rang, they packed up fast. River was the first out the door. Camden last.

As I walked outside, the cold hit me as usual. The snow felt real. Unlike whatever that moment had been.

I sat on the low concrete wall outside the gym building, the tissue still clutched in my hand. My nose had stopped bleeding, but my head was buzzing.

That wasn’t normal. A random nosebleed? Maybe. But the way they all froze? How they reacted like I’d triggered some kind of warning system?

My breath formed clouds in the air. I pulled my jacket tighter. Then I heard them.

The boys. Talking around the corner near the locker hallway.

I crept closer carefully.

“She bled,” River said. “Right there. Out of nowhere.”

“It wasn’t normal blood,” Theo replied. “It was charged. I felt it.”

“Blood calls,” Cassian murmured. “It’s what happens when a wolf is close to something bonded.”

“She’s not bonded,” Camden said. “She’s not even—” He stopped. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“She felt it too,” River added. “I saw it in her face. She knows something’s wrong.”

Footsteps shifted.

“She’s going to ask questions,” Theo said.

“She already is,” Cassian added.

“We should tell her,” Jax said quietly.

“No,” Camden snapped. “She’s not part of this.”

The hallway fell silent.

I stepped back, heart hammering so loud. My foot hit a pile of ice, and it crunched.

“Naeva?” Camden’s voice cut through the air.

I turned, face flushed. He stepped out from the shadows, the others were just behind him.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I dropped something,” I lied.

“You heard us,” River said.

“No.”

“Don’t lie,” Camden said. His eyes locked with mine. “You don’t know what you’re getting into. Stay away from us, Naeva.”

He didn’t shout. He didn’t need to. His tone sliced straight through me. The boys turned and walked off like nothing had happened.

I stood there, breathing fast in the frozen air, the tissue still crumpled in my fist.

They were hiding something. And now I was part of it. Whether I liked it or not.

I walked home with my fists buried deep in my coat pockets, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. I was done. Done with Snowridge.

Done with the silent stares and cryptic comments. Done with Camden’s cold attitude and River’s haunting eyes. My nose still throbbed, and my mind was on repeat, playing back every word they said—blood calls, bonded, she’s not part of this.

Screw that. As I turned the corner onto my street, I froze. A massive wolf stood in my front yard.

Not a dog. Not some scruffy stray. A full-grown, thick-coated wolf, silver eyes glowing under the porch light. Its fur shimmered, too clean for something wild. Its head turned sharply—toward me.

My breath caught. We stared at each other.

The wind blew. The snow crunched beneath its paws. And then, just as I took a step forward, it blinked once and vanished.

It was just gone without pawprints or sound. The porch light flickered.

My dad opened the door, calling, “Naeva?” he called out. “Are you coming in or planning to freeze out there?”

I looked again. There was nothing. Just an empty yard and the weight of something watching me. Something real. And not human.