The bell rang, and the clatter of voices, footsteps, and laughter spilled into the halls like a wave. Students rushed out of the classroom, chairs scraping against the floor, papers fluttering in the air, lockers slamming in a rhythm of chaos. Within minutes, the room emptied, leaving only Damien and Logan behind.
Damien leaned back lazily in his chair, his boots propped against the desk in front of him. Logan sat at the edge of another desk, shoulders hunched, fiddling with his pen as they exchanged idle remarks about school, teachers, and how pointlessly loud humans could be.
The door creaked open.
Marcus and Ethan slipped inside, their expressions taut. They didn't bother with greetings. Marcus shut the door softly behind them, while Ethan stepped forward.
"We've got a problem."
Damien arched a brow. "We always do."
"This isn't small." Marcus's voice was clipped. "The rogue we've been tracking—the one from two nights ago—he's still here. And he's shadowing that new girl. June Callaway."
At that name, Damien's smirk faltered. His eyes flicked with memory—her terrified face in the dark, the weight of her bag slung over her shoulder, and the way the rogue had lunged for her throat before Damien tore him back.
Ethan crossed his arms. "That Vampire, he seems fixated on her."
Marcus added grimly, "We need to move, Damien. Before he does."
But Damien shook his head slowly. "No. Not yet."
Both hunters stared. Logan frowned. "What do you mean, 'not yet'? You want to wait until he sinks his teeth into her?"
Damien's jaw tightened. "If we spook him, he'll vanish. And when rogues vanish, they don't stay gone—they wait, they plot, and they come back when no one's looking. I'd rather keep him where I can see him."
Marcus stepped closer, frustration edging his voice. "So what—what do we do? Sit on our hands while he circles her like prey?"
Damien's eyes burned faintly gold, silencing him. "We watch. We track. We keep her safe, but we don't confront him until I say. Understand?"
Ethan exhaled, glancing at Marcus before nodding reluctantly.
Logan broke the silence, his tone heavy. "Damien… this girl. She's not part of our world. You're risking her."
Damien looked away, but his voice was steel when he answered. "No. I'm not. He won't touch her. I'll make sure of that."
The room fell into silence again, the air thick with unspoken questions.
Marcus and Ethan exchanged a look, then gave sharp nods. Orders were orders. They slipped out of the classroom as quietly as they had come.
***********************
The cafeteria buzzed like a hive, loud and alive. Long rows of tables stretched under the canopy of open skylights, sunlight spilling over polished floors. The sound of hundreds of voices rose and clashed—laughter, teasing, clattering trays, sneakers squeaking on tile.
June sat across from Grace, her tray untouched. A simple sandwich and fries sat there, but she barely noticed them. Her fingers toyed with the straw of her soda, twisting and bending it as her eyes darted around the crowded space. Every shadow seemed too sharp, every corner too still. It was like something could leap out at her at any moment.
Grace finally leaned forward, frowning. "Okay, seriously, what's up with you? You've been on edge since morning. You're acting like this place is haunted."
June forced a laugh, though it came out thin. "Maybe it is." She didn't mean for her voice to drop that low, but it did.
Grace groaned. "Oh, come on, June. Relax. Nothing's going to happen to you here. It's school. The scariest thing around here is cafeteria meatloaf."
But June didn't laugh this time. She knew what she knew. She'd seen glowing eyes in the dark. She'd seen speed that no human could possess. And that pale man from earlier—she was certain she had seen his face before too. This town wasn't normal. Nothing about Blackstone was normal.
Grace tilted her head, studying her. "You're seriously creeping me out. You can't just sit there glaring at the shadows. It's lunch, not a horror movie."
June realized then that her words, her paranoia, were starting to bother Grace. And she didn't want that. She sighed and forced a change of subject. "Okay. Fine. Let's talk about something else. Like this place—what's the deal with the students? Is there some kind of hierarchy or whatever?"
Grace perked up instantly, grateful for the switch. She popped a fry into her mouth and leaned in conspiratorially. "Oh, totally. It's like every high school cliché rolled into one. We've got the cheerleaders—they think they run the place, obviously. Then you've got the Wolves, the guys who basically run the sports field. Basketball team, whatever. They're the loud ones."
June smirked faintly. "So basically every high school movie ever made."
Grace shrugged. "Yeah, except this is Blackstone. People here take it way more seriously. Everyone knows everyone, and once you're labeled, you stay that way."
June nodded slowly, glancing around the room again. Her eyes swept over the tables full of students laughing and gossiping… and then she noticed something.
Or rather, she noticed the absence of something.
Her gaze skimmed across the cafeteria once more before settling. Damien wasn't there. Neither was his friend, Logan.
She wasn't looking for them, not really—but it was impossible not to notice. Somehow, their absence felt louder than the noise around her.
June was halfway through pretending to sip her soda when a loud, uneven shuffle of footsteps approached their table. She glanced up to see a lanky guy with curly hair that looked like it had lost a war with a comb, his glasses sliding down his nose, and—most notably—one of his sneakers untied, the laces flapping like a banner with every step.
"Grace!" he grinned, plopping his tray down and almost knocking over her fries. "You'll never believe it. I survived chemistry. Again. Barely. Mr. Klein actually smiled today, I think. Or maybe he had gas. Hard to tell."
Grace rolled her eyes, but she was already smiling. "Tyler, this is my cousin. June Callaway. From Bel-Air." She gave June a look that said be nice, he's harmless.
Tyler froze mid-motion, his juice box halfway to his mouth. His wide brown eyes blinked behind his glasses. Then he lowered it and cleared his throat dramatically. "Bel-Air? As in, actual Bel-Air? Like palm trees, luxury, Fresh Prince?"
June arched a brow. "Yeah. Actual Bel-Air."
Tyler whistled, long and low. "Wow. That makes you, like… the fanciest person I've ever sat with in this cafeteria. No offense, Grace, but you're more like… average air."
Grace smacked his arm. "Shut up, Tyler."
June couldn't help it—she laughed, the tension in her shoulders easing for the first time all day. Tyler beamed at the sound, clearly pleased with himself.
"Anyway," he continued, stabbing at the lumpy mashed potatoes on his tray, "I'm Tyler. Grace's unofficial tutor-slash-babysitter for anything academic. Without me, she'd have failed algebra twice by now."
Grace groaned. "Oh my God, don't listen to him. He's exaggerating."
"Am I?" Tyler gave her a pointed look, then leaned toward June like he was sharing state secrets. "I'm not. Last week she called the mitochondria 'that cell potato thing.'"
June snorted into her drink, nearly choking. Grace turned red. "I hate you," she muttered, shoving him, but Tyler only grinned wider.
"Eh, you'll learn to love me," he said casually, finally remembering his untied shoe and attempting to knot it under the table. He failed miserably, the lace slipping through his fingers. "I'm basically the nerdy background character who survives till the end of the movie because everyone needs comic relief."
June smiled, shaking her head. Tyler was nerdy, sure, with his crooked glasses and awkward energy, but there was something genuine about him. Something comforting. And for the first time since stepping into Blackstone High, she didn't feel entirely like an outsider.
Tyler had just managed to half-knot his sneaker lace when a shift rolled through the cafeteria. The chatter dimmed for a beat, conversations stuttered, and eyes flicked toward the open walkway.
Five boys in all black strolled through, shoulder to shoulder, like the place belonged to them. Leather jackets, dark jeans, chains glinting faintly. Even the way they laughed—low, careless, like the noise of everyone else didn't matter—made the atmosphere tilt.
June's eyes narrowed almost instinctively. She caught details, fast, the way she always did. One of them—the tallest—had pale skin, like that creepy delivery guy. Another had his sleeves rolled, knuckles bruised like he'd been in a fight recently.
Grace noticed her staring and made a face. "Ugh. Them." She stabbed a fry like it had personally offended her. "I can't stand those guys. Always acting like they're better than everyone. Rude. Arrogant. Annoying. Even Damien has more humility than they do—and that's saying something."
Tyler leaned back, folding his arms like he was about to deliver wisdom. "Correction: they're not arrogant. They're cool. There's a difference. Cool is… well, cool. Black jackets, the attitude, the whole 'we don't care what you think' vibe. It works."
Grace whipped her head toward him, incredulous. "Cool? Cool?! You did not just say that."
Tyler adjusted his glasses, dead serious. "I aspire to that level of cool one day. Maybe not the walking-in-a-pack part, because I'd trip over my own shoelaces, but still. Cool is timeless."
Grace scoffed so loudly a nearby table turned to look. "Cool doesn't feed you, Tyler. Cool doesn't get you through algebra. Cool gets you detention. Who in their right mind wants to be cool?"
"Uh, literally everyone." Tyler gestured around the cafeteria like it was obvious. "Every single human being here is trying in some way to look cooler than they are. Except maybe the lunch lady. She's above it all."
June burst out laughing, clapping a hand over her mouth. Grace looked between the two of them like she couldn't believe she was being double-teamed.
"You're both ridiculous," she muttered, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her smile.
June smirked, shaking her head. "For the record, I think you'd make a terrible leather-jacket guy, Tyler."
He grinned proudly. "Exactly. That's what makes me authentic. I'm like… nerd-cool."
Grace groaned, dropping her face into her hands, while June kept laughing, the sound carrying above the cafeteria din. For a moment, the strange unease that had been gripping her all day faded into the background.