The cafeteria roared with noise—trays clattering, laughter bouncing off tile, gossip sliding across every table—but none of it mattered.
I moved through the lunch line like a blade wrapped in silk. Every step calculated. Every smile a weapon. My compulsion hovered just under the surface, soft and delicious. Hidden. Controlled. Ready.
"Excuse me," I said sweetly, brushing a shoulder with the lightest touch. "Would you mind?"
The boy ahead of me blinked, his mind already fogged under the influence of my voice. "Not at all," he murmured, stepping aside with a dazed smile.
"Thank you," I whispered, letting my fingers graze his arm.
I didn't need to compel often. But it felt good to remind myself I could.
Ana watched from a few people back in line, her dark eyes gleaming with amused approval. She could always sense when I turned it on. It was like flipping a switch—this careful mask of power and charm I wore around mortals and monsters alike.
Tray in hand, I turned toward the dining hall—and froze.
Brett Blackwood sat near the center table like he owned the school. Sunlight spilled through the windows, gilding his golden-brown skin and tousled hair. He lounged with one arm slung over the back of his chair, flanked by his football minions and two overly lip-glossed cheerleaders who hung on his every glance.
His presence was loud. Magnetic. Alpha.
And when his gaze found mine, he smiled—lazy, cocky, and full of intent.
Then he lifted two fingers.
A slow come-hither wave.
Arrogant. Predictable.
Perfect.
I smiled back, sharper than sugar.
"Come on," I said as I passed Ana. "Let's stir the pot."
Ana slid in beside me, eyes dancing. "You're in that kind of mood?"
"Always."
We made our way toward Brett's table. Conversations dimmed slightly as we passed. I could feel eyes on us—half admiration, half curiosity. By the time we slid into open seats across from Brett, the air around the table had shifted.
Power. Anticipation. Sparks.
Brett leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "You're new to the squad, right?"
I tilted my head. "Not new. Just hard to forget."
"Touché." His grin widened.
His energy buzzed beneath his skin. Not just werewolf—alpha werewolf. Still young. Still testing his limits. But undeniably powerful. He was circling me without moving, waiting to see if I'd flinch.
I didn't.
Instead, I let my gaze slide past him.
To the boy seated two spots down—taller, leaner, with sharp eyes that missed nothing.
Zack. Beta. Quiet. Still. The one who watched first and acted second.
Next to him?
Zeb.
Warlock.
The static hum around him gave it away before he opened his mouth. His magic was like crackling ozone—contained lightning pressed beneath his skin.
Zeb's gaze met mine, and he smiled lazily. Not flirtatious. Curious.
Predator recognizing predator.
Ana slid into the seat beside Zeb without hesitation. I caught the brief flick of her wrist as she cast a subtle ward around herself—nothing flashy, just enough to signal she was aware of who she was sitting next to.
"We've been scouting new talent," Zack said, eyes drifting over Ana with appreciative calculation. "Looks like we found some."
Ana arched a brow. "You think you're subtle?"
Zeb chuckled. "You're not exactly blending in either, sweetheart."
I was about to retort when something shifted.
Not energy. Not magic.
A scent.
Unstable. Wild. Feral.
I caught it first. Then Zack stiffened. Brett inhaled sharply.
"Omega," he said under his breath. "Untrained. Unstable."
I didn't move, didn't even glance around. Instead, I followed the scent trail with my senses. Across the room, half-concealed by a pillar, sat a girl. Her tray untouched. Her hands clenched so tightly around a juice box it was crumpling in her grip.
Her wolf was close to the surface. Fractured. Dangerous.
A time bomb waiting to snap.
"She's going to shift," Ana whispered, her voice low and calm.
"She won't," I said, just as quiet. "Watch."
I could feel Brett watching me now, more intently than before.
"You smell it too?" he asked.
"Of course I do."
His eyes narrowed. "You're a wolf?"
I smiled. "Let's just say I have good instincts."
Let them think that. Let them think I was just a wolf. That I was someone they could understand. My enchantress blood cloaked the truth with ease. The vampire in me stayed buried—glamoured and gagged.
And then—
Crack.
The girl launched her apple.
It arced through the air toward me, fast and wild.
I didn't flinch.
My hand shot out, catching it with a resounding smack that silenced half the room. I stood slowly, eyes locked on the girl's face. Her expression crumbled. She hadn't expected me to catch it. She'd expected a reaction. A display. Something weak.
Instead, I let the glamour slip.
Just for her.
My eyes flashed.
Violet.
Deep. Royal. Untamed.
Her wolf whimpered and recoiled. She looked down, ashamed. Shaking.
I bit into the apple with a satisfying crunch and walked—slowly, deliberately—to the nearest trash bin. Dropped the core. Then turned back toward the table like nothing had happened.
And there he was.
Alec Anders.
Leaning beside the far trash can. Arms crossed. Shirt rolled to the elbows. His storm-green eyes locked on me like I was something he couldn't decide whether to worship or destroy.
His aura crackled with restraint.
He didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
I turned back toward the table and saw something had shifted.
Brett's smile was different now. Less flirtation. More interest.
Respect.
"You've got bite," he said. A hint of fang glinted behind his grin.
I tilted my head, let a flicker of fang show in return.
"I'm full of surprises."
The table laughed, the tension defusing. Ana leaned in, whispering under the hum of voices.
"Don't do anything stupid."
"I'll try," I whispered back. "But I hate being underestimated."
I didn't glance at Alec again.
But I could feel him.
Still watching.
Still trying to figure me out.
But it was already too late.
I was under his skin.
⸻
The final bell echoed through the halls as I tied my cheer shoes and slung my duffel over my shoulder. The late afternoon air was warm and golden as I stepped onto the track, my legs already humming with the residual tension of the day.
From across the lot, the boys' locker room doors swung open.
Brett.
He caught sight of me and smiled—crooked, confident, maddening. I returned it with a smirk.
"Well, fancy seeing you here," I called, stretching one arm behind my back.
"Gym is gym," he said with a shrug. "Didn't know you'd be here too."
"You'll learn quickly," I said. "This is my playground."
The coach's whistle blew.
Without warning, Brett took off down the track.
Fast.
Too fast for a normal student.
So he wanted to play.
Good.
I kicked off, matching his pace with ease. My supernatural speed surged beneath the surface, coiled like a spring. I let it bleed through, just enough to catch him.
We ran side by side, his shoulder brushing mine as I passed him with a smile.
"You really think you're faster than me?" I teased, not even winded.
Brett laughed, breathless. "You don't play fair."
"Neither do you."
⸻
From the second-story window overlooking the track, Alec stood with his arms crossed. Watching.
His gaze lingered on me—on the curve of my waist, the power in my stride. Then it shifted to Brett.
The way Brett looked at me.
The way I looked back.
A muscle ticked in Alec's jaw.
He didn't move. But I felt the burn of his presence like a brand on my spine.
⸻
We slowed on the third lap. I leaned over, catching my breath as Brett jogged beside me.
"You're... insane," he panted, still grinning.
"Takes one to know one."
He stepped closer. "That was fun. Can't wait to do it again."
I arched a brow. "You sure you can keep up?"
"Try me."
The coach barked, and we jogged back toward the group. Our arms brushed.
I didn't look at Alec.
But I knew he was still there.
Burning.
Waiting.
Watching.
————
Walking through the halls, echoing with distant locker doors and lazy footsteps. I rounded the corner toward the back stairs when I felt it again.
That scent.
Weaker now, but still wild.
I spotted her—hunched near her locker, clutching the edge like it was the only thing anchoring her to the world.
I approached slowly.
"You really know how to make an entrance," I said.
She flinched, spinning toward me with wide, wary eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, and her wolf shimmered just beneath her skin.
"You caught my apple," she said, voice hoarse.
"You threw it."
She blinked. "I didn't think you'd catch it."
"You didn't think a lot of things."
A long silence stretched between us before she dropped her gaze.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled.
"Don't apologize. You were hurting. Angry. And scared."
Her eyes shot up, filled with guilt. "You scared me."
"Good," I said gently. "You needed to be scared. It stopped you from losing control."
She swallowed hard, nodding.
"I'm Scarlet," I added, extending my hand.
Her hesitation lasted a second longer than it should have. Then she took it, her grip trembling.
"Reenie."
Her voice was barely a whisper. But I heard it.
"Reenie," I repeated. "You're not alone. You just have to stop pretending you don't need help."
She gave a shaky laugh. "And you're offering?"
"Depends," I said, stepping closer. "Can you keep secrets?"
Her lips twitched into the ghost of a smile. "I've got plenty of my own."
"Then welcome to the club."
And for the first time all day, the tension in her shoulders eased.