Run young wolf, else the Hunter will become the hunted, this was the third time he was having that dream this month.
The town of Ravencrest was small, the kind of place where everyone knew who you were, or at least who your parents were. And that was exactly the problem.
The whispers never really stopped.
"That's the Hale boy."
"Didn't his family..."
"You'd think he'd move away after what they did."
Lucas had learned to pretend he didn't hear them. He'd learned a lot of things, how to forge a parent's signature, how to pay rent on an abandoned trailer, how to buy groceries without anyone asking too many questions.
But the one thing he hadn't learned yet… was how to stop the wolf inside him from stirring.
By the time he got to Ravencrest High, the rain had soaked through his shoes. The halls smelled like disinfectant and teenage sweat. He kept his head down, moving fast, shoulders tight.
He wasn't exactly popular. People didn't mess with him, but they didn't talk to him either. He had that look, the kind that said "leave me alone or regret it."
He dropped into his seat in the back of first-period history just as the bell rang.
"Mr. Hale," the teacher said without looking up, "nice of you to join us again."
Lucas didn't bother answering. He just opened his notebook, pretending to take notes while the wolf in his chest growled at every tiny sound, the tapping of pencils, the creak of chairs, the steady thump of heartbeats all around him.
It was fourth period when she walked in.
Ivy Cross.
Transfer student.
Rain still clinging to her jacket, hair a little wild, eyes sharp and curious.
The teacher smiled, introducing her to the class. "Ivy just moved here from Greenville. Be nice, everyone."
Lucas didn't look up, not until she passed his desk. That's when his senses caught it.
A faint scent, clean metal and gun oil.
Hidden under perfume.
Hunter.
He froze for a heartbeat, his pulse skipping. He shouldn't have recognized it, but he did. His father had taught him the smell before… before everything fell apart.
Ivy sat two rows over. When she glanced at him, her gaze lingered a second too long, like she felt something too, a whisper in her blood that said danger.
At lunch, the cafeteria was loud enough to make Lucas's head pound. He usually ate outside, near the trees where he could breathe, but the rain had turned everything to mud.
He sat alone, half a sandwich in his hand, when a voice spoke behind him.
"Mind if I sit here?"
He turned. Ivy stood there with a tray, smiling like she hadn't just stepped into a lion's den.
"Plenty of empty tables," Lucas muttered.
"Yeah, but none of them look this… mysterious," she said, sitting anyway. "You're Lucas, right? I heard you live near the woods."
He shot her a sharp look. "You hear a lot for someone who just got here."
"Small town," she said lightly. "People talk."
He wanted to tell her to leave. He wanted to stay silent. But instead, he found himself studying her, the way she sat straight but ready to move, the faint scar on her wrist, the way her eyes darted around like she was mapping exits.
Hunter habits.
"Be careful walking home," he said finally. "The woods aren't safe."
She smirked. "I'll take my chances."
That night, Lucas couldn't sleep. The rain had stopped, but the full moon pressed against his window like a whispering ghost.
His reflection in the glass stared back same messy hair, same tired eyes. But as the moonlight touched his face, something shimmered under his skin.
For a second, his pupils slit open. His canines sharpened. His breath fogged the glass.
Then he saw it, glowing faintly through the collar of his shirt.
A mark.
Circular, ancient, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.
The mark his father had once spoken of in a hushed voice:
"Only one born with the mark can command the blood of alphas."
He stumbled back, heart hammering, every instinct screaming that something inside him had just awakened.
Outside, deep in the woods, a lone howl broke through the silence.
Lucas's chest ached with the urge to answer.
And for the first time in years…
he didn't feel alone.