Friday night.
Music thumped from the gym building, bass shaking the glass in the windows. Lights glowed red and gold. Laughter echoed from the parking lot, where half the student body had shown up to the "Basketball Bash" — a party the team threw after every big win.
Only this time, it wasn't just about the win.
This time, it was about Ronan.
Someone had posted the video — the fight with the bully, the way Ronan lifted him like he weighed nothing, the way Calla's ex-boyfriend had been flattened without even seeing the punch.
Overnight, he'd gone from weird loner to dark campus legend.
So when the team captain handed him an invitation that morning and said, "Come on, man — this party's for you," he couldn't really say no.
The gym was a war zone of sound and color.
People danced. People screamed. People passed drinks in plastic cups like they were trading secrets. Girls flocked to him the moment he walked in — bold, flirty, smiling with too much teeth.
"You're Ronan, right?" one girl purred, tall and model-perfect. "Dance with me?"
Ronan gave her a polite smile. "Not really my thing."
"Oh come on," she leaned in. "Just one song. For the school hero?"
"Say yes," the wolf teased. "Let's see if she can keep up when the moon comes."
Ronan ignored him and stepped back. "Thanks, but I'm good."
He left her standing there, blinking in confusion.
Outside, the air was cooler. Softer.
Calla was sitting on one of the old stone benches, a soda can in one hand, watching the stars with her usual half-daring, half-tired look. Her phone sat in her lap, untouched.
"You're missing the chaos," Ronan said, walking over.
She glanced up. "And you're avoiding the cheerleaders. Look at us. Perfectly antisocial."
He chuckled and dropped onto the bench beside her.
For a moment, they just sat there.
No wolf. No leech. No faculty conspiracies or ancient councils.
Just two people trying to be normal for one night.
"You clean up nice," Calla said, nudging his arm.
He glanced down at his black shirt and jeans. "Did my best. You?"
"Stole my roommate's jacket. It was either that or glitter."
She turned to him then, eyes shadowed by the porch light. "Do you ever get tired of pretending not to care?"
Ronan blinked. "I'm not pretending."
"Yeah, you are. You look at everyone like they're a puzzle you've already solved. But you don't walk like someone who's done solving anything."
He didn't answer right away.
Instead, he leaned back against the bench, watching the stars.
"You ever feel like the world's on fire," he murmured, "but you're the only one who can smell the smoke?"
Calla looked over slowly. "Every day."
That was it.
That was the moment.
Nothing big. No fireworks. Just the weight of two broken people realizing they were broken in the same places.
"She gets it," the wolf said, oddly quiet. "People like her… they're rare."
They didn't touch. Didn't lean in.
But they didn't look away, either.
Later that night, as the music roared and the party swirled back into chaos, something else stirred on campus.
Something that did not like laughter.
That hated connection.
And in the far corner of the quad, a black feather dropped from the sky, curling with unnatural wind.