Adam couldn't move.
The werewolf's massive body pinned him against the cold marble floor, its weight pressing into his ribs until every breath felt like a shallow gasp. Its fur bristled like frost-tipped needles against his skin, and its breath. Hot, foul, wet with saliva spilled across his cheek. Drool slid down in strings, dripping onto his collar, steaming in the dim light of the stairwell.
He was staring into its eyes. Yellow, burning, rimmed with a strange intelligence that only made them more horrifying. Its snout opened, black gums curling back, teeth glistening like knives smeared with spit. He could see himself reflected in those fangs, a trembling boy moments away from being shredded apart.
Adam's whole body went rigid, waiting for the pain. Waiting for the tearing. His mind screamed at him to fight back, to swing his fists, to do something. Anything, but his limbs were stone.
The creature's jaw parted, slow, deliberate, inches from his face. He braced, eyes squeezing shut...
And then, in a voice that was both guttural and strangely human, a soft whisper brushed his ear:
"Run."
Adam's eyes shot open.
Before he could even register the word, the werewolf leapt off him in a single explosive motion, its white body blurring past. It crashed into the shadows where the dhampyrs had been closing in, and in an instant, the hall exploded with shriek; wet, bone-splitting sounds of teeth against flesh, claws raking stone, and inhuman wails that echoed through the corridors.
Adam scrambled to his feet, chest heaving, heart hammering like a war drum. His body screamed at him to freeze, to stare, to understand what he had just heard, but survival was louder. He bolted, sprinting down the corridor toward the auditorium doors.
He almost made it, until he caught sight of movement through the glass windows ahead.
A dhampyr.
Its pale face turned, catching his outline against the emergency lights. Its lips peeled back to reveal fangs slick with gore, and then it shrieked, lunging for the door handle.
Adam cursed under his breath and veered right, his sneakers skidding against the polished floor. He tore toward the stairwell, boots pounding with each desperate stride. Behind him came the slam of metal as the dhampyr burst through the doors, its claws scraping like nails on steel as it gave chase.
The stairwell yawned upward like a tower of shadows. Adam threw himself into the climb, his legs already aching, lungs burning as if his chest was filled with knives. His breath came ragged, pulling every ounce of strength from muscles that had already been pushed far past their limit tonight.
The sound of pursuit never faded. The dhampyr's guttural snarls echoed one flight below, its feet hammering the steps with an unnatural rhythm.
Adam's eyes darted around frantically as he climbed, searching for something, anything. His hand brushed against the red emergency box bolted to the wall. Without slowing, he smashed it open, glass shattering beneath his elbow. His fingers wrapped around the emergency axe, its weight reassuring in his hand.
He pushed on.
One more flight. Then another. Sweat blinded him, his body screaming, but adrenaline kept him moving. Finally, the stairwell ended at the balcony level. He shoved through the final door, his shoulder screaming in protest as it gave way.
Inside, red EXIT lights glowed faintly, throwing jagged shadows across the narrow space.
But Adam didn't stop. His gaze caught the silver cylinder of a fire extinguisher hanging just beside the doorway. A desperate thought sparked.
He raised the axe and slammed it into the extinguisher. The metal burst, white powder erupting into the air in a violent plume. The stairwell behind him instantly filled with a blizzard of choking smoke, the hiss and spray masking the dhampyr's screech as it stumbled blindly into the cloud.
Adam stumbled back, coughing, vision blurred. Then, from the haze, the pale shape of the dhampyr lunged.
He swung the axe with every ounce of terror and rage inside him.
The blade connected with a crack, slamming into the creature's shoulder and sending it tumbling backward into the powder-filled stairwell. Its scream cut short as it struck the steps, rolling into the fog.
Adam slammed the balcony door shut, twisting the lock with trembling hands. He pressed his back against the frame, chest rising and falling in wild bursts.
He wasn't safe. Not yet.
The scratching began immediately. Nails raked down the metal from the other side, followed by guttural squeals that rattled the hinges. Adam shut his eyes, trying to steady himself, but then something changed.
The sound shifted.
Not scratching. Not squealing.
Something else.
A guttural roar tore through the stairwell, violent enough to shake the frame. Then the sickening rip of flesh, the crunch of bones splintering, screams cut short one after another until...
Silence.
Adam's eyes snapped open. His throat was dry, his body slick with sweat. He dared a glance at the door.
Then came the knock. Heavy. Slow.
Once.
Twice.
The lock rattled. The metal groaned. Each impact was harder than the last, until the hinges themselves shrieked, threatening to give way.
"No…" Adam whispered, stumbling back. "No no no—"
He looked around desperately. There was nothing heavy enough to barricade it. Chairs, railings—too light. His hands shook as he tried dragging one across the floor anyway, but the next slam against the door sent it skittering out of his grasp.
There was only one option left.
The balcony edge.
Adam staggered to the rail and looked over. Four stories down, the campus grounds stretched beneath him, dimly lit by emergency lights. His stomach dropped at the sight. The gutter pipe ran alongside the wall, thin, shaky, but reachable.
Every instinct screamed at him not to do it. But then the sound of metal tearing froze him.
The door split at the top. A massive claw hooked through, ripping steel like paper.
And through the gap, Adam met the glowing yellow eyes of the werewolf.
It growled, low and feral, the sound vibrating in his bones.
Adam didn't think. He vaulted the railing, catching the gutter with both hands as his legs swung in empty space. For a heartbeat he hung there, then began sliding down, boots scraping against the wall.
The metal groaned beneath his weight.
He prayed. He begged. He forced himself down faster, skin burning as his hands tore against the pipe.
Third floor. The metal snapped.
"Shit!"
The pipe bent outward, away from the wall. Adam clung desperately as bolts screamed free from the brick. By the time he reached the second floor, the whole gutter lurched violently, collapsing under his weight.
He fell the last story.
The ground slammed into him, hard, sending pain lancing through his side and knocking the air from his lungs. For a moment, all he could do was lie there on the cold earth, gasping, the world spinning above him.
And then...
Silence.
Meanwhile, the voices woke Bryce before the light did.
He stirred in his bunk, groggy, the stiffness of sleep still clinging to his muscles. But the voices weren't the usual murmurs of students rising early, rubbing their eyes, grumbling about breakfast. These voices were higher, sharper, breaking through the quiet like glass shattering. A low rumble of dozens of male voices filled the dormitory, overlapping in panic and disbelief.
Bryce sat up, rubbing at his temple. "What the hell…?"
Across the room, one boy was already at the window, peering through the fogged glass. Another was hunched over his phone, voice cracking as he shouted into it, "Dad. Dad, can you hear me? Something's happening—"
Gunfire echoed in the distance.
Bryce froze. It wasn't faint, either, it carried, popping rhythmically like firecrackers. But it wasn't a celebration. The students knew it. The silence that followed each volley was heavier than the noise itself.
Bryce climbed out of bed, heart picking up pace. Snippets of conversations met him as he staggered down the stairs with the others.
"—they're saying it's dhampyrs, dozens of them—"
"—whole families on the phone, screaming—"
"My mom said to stay inside, lock the doors—"
The common room was chaos. Some boys pressed their faces to the windows, eyes wide as they tried to glimpse something—anything—in the direction of Moonstone town. Others hunched in corners, frantically dialing on shaky hands, their voices trembling as they tried to reassure loved ones far away. Bryce felt his pulse spike with every crack of distant gunfire.
And then it hit him like a jolt of cold water: Adam.
Where the hell was Adam?
Panic shoved the fog of sleep out of his skull. His memory rushed back. Adam had taken the patrol shift. Out there. Alone. Bryce swore under his breath, pushing through the crowd of boys like a man possessed.
He bolted for the doors.
But before he could even grip the handle, a hand clamped on his chest and shoved him back. A guard stood there, broad-shouldered and armored, the gleam of his sidearm unmistakable even in the low light.
"Doors are sealed," the guard barked, his voice stern but calm, like he'd rehearsed this protocol. "No one goes out."
"My friend's out there!" Bryce snapped, trying to shove past, but the guard didn't budge. He was a wall.
"It's not safe," the man said flatly. "Orders are to keep all students inside until further notice."
Bryce's throat tightened. He swallowed the rising panic and forced out words. "African American student, did he come through here? About this tall, has dread locks, brown hoodie, did you see him?"
The guard's eyes flickered with genuine confusion. "No one's passed through."
The denial hit Bryce like a punch to the gut. His chest tightened until it was hard to breathe. The image forced its way into his head, unbidden: Adam lying somewhere in the dark, bleeding out, surrounded by claws and fangs.
He stumbled back, shoulders sagging, pressing a hand to his mouth. The rest of the boys crowded the doorway behind him, their voices loud, some trying to shout encouragement toward the glass, others yelling at the guard. To them, it was a spectacle, they couldn't see the boy they all knew was already in the crosshairs.
Bryce's jaw locked. He wanted to scream, wanted to punch the door until it splintered, wanted to do something. Instead, he just stood there, chest heaving, every second dragging him closer to despair.
***
Adam woke to pain.
Coughs racked his chest as he forced himself upright, the acrid taste of dust burning his throat. For a few heartbeats he didn't know where he was—only the weight of his body against broken ground, the sting of bruises layered over bruises.
Then memory slammed back into him: the patrol, the balcony, the fall.
He tried to stand. His right ankle gave way instantly, sending him sprawling to one knee. Pain lanced up his leg like fire. He hissed through his teeth, clutching it, but there was no time to sit and wallow. Not tonight. Not with what was hunting.
Forcing himself upright, he limped forward, each step agony. The dorm wasn't far. He had to reach it. Just a few more blocks, just a few more breaths.
Something shifted behind him.
The air grew heavy.
Adam turned, heart hammering. His eyes tracked up to the balcony he'd fallen from earlier. The shadows there weren't empty anymore.
The white werewolf crouched on the shattered railing, its pale fur gleaming under the moonlight like fresh snow stained with silver. Its jaws parted just enough to let out a guttural growl, low and bone-deep. Then its head tilted back.
The howl that followed split the night.
Adam froze, every muscle in his body locked. The sound wasn't just noise, it was primal, commanding, shaking his bones with an authority older than any human scream. His neck prickled with cold sweat.
The beast's gaze snapped down to him. For a suspended, horrible moment, Adam thought it would leap. But instead, it vaulted in the other direction, vanishing across the rooftops with monstrous grace.
Adam swallowed the bile rising in his throat and turned back toward the dorms. He didn't run. Couldn't. His limp was faster now, a half-hop, half-stumble, desperation propelling him.
And then, the worst sound: claws.
A dhampyr broke from the shadows with a scream, the sound sharp and shrill, stabbing through Adam's eardrums. Its eyes glowed faintly red, fangs bared as it sniffed him out. It lunged, closing the distance in terrifying speed.
Adam's chest seized. He tried to push himself harder, but his ankle screamed in protest. Every step was a knife through his leg. He was too slow. Too broken.
The dorm came into view, only yards away. Through the glass, he saw faces. Dozens of them. Students crammed against the windows, fists pounding against doors they weren't allowed to open. Their voices muffled, a tide of cheers, screams, desperate encouragements.
He didn't hear words, only noise.
Bryce's voice cut through the rest. It wasn't louder, but Adam felt it like an anchor: raw, breaking, pleading.
Adam stumbled, knees buckling. He fell face-first onto the cold dirt, palms scraping against the ground. The dorm doors loomed only feet away. He clawed forward, dragging himself an inch, another inch. His lungs burned. His body screamed.
The dhampyr shrieked, pouncing.
The shadow fell over him.
And then...
A voice. Not Bryce's. Not any human's.
It came from nowhere and everywhere, deep and resonant, vibrating inside Adam's skull. The syllables weren't English, but the meaning carved itself into his bones:
"Acūs mortiferum."
The world answered.
A whistling filled the air, sharp and violent, like arrows cutting the night. Black skewers, dozens, maybe hundreds, rained down in an instant, tearing the dhampyr apart mid-pounce. Its body convulsed, riddled with holes, before it hit the ground a mangled husk.
Adam lay frozen, staring. The black spears shimmered, pulsing faintly as if alive, before sublimating into vapor and vanishing one by one. Not steel. Not wood. Something else. Something older.
His breath caught. Slowly, instinctively, he raised his gaze toward where the attack had come from.
On the rooftop to his right, a figure stood framed against the moon.
Hood drawn low, cloak shifting with the night wind. A tall staff in hand, faintly glowing with sigils Adam didn't recognize. But it wasn't the staff or the cloak that locked him in place.
It was the eyes.
Purple. Luminous. Burning with an otherworldly fire that pierced the distance between them. They weren't human. Couldn't be. They looked straight into Adam as if measuring him, weighing his very soul.
The figure lingered only a moment longer. Then, without a sound, it was gone, folded back into the night like a mirage dissolving.
Adam's chest heaved. His palms trembled against the dirt. The students inside were cheering now, screaming in relief, but their voices seemed far away.
Only Bryce's voice cut through. And those eyes.
Always those eyes.