Chapter 37 – Shadows in the Diner
The diner's hum dulled into silence, like someone had turned the world's volume down. A waitress froze halfway to a table, coffee pot trembling in her hands. Conversations died.
All eyes drifted toward the woman in black.
Vivienne's presence wasn't loud — it was absolute. The way gravity itself bent when she moved. Her gaze swept lazily across the booth where Ayla sat pressed against Lucien, her friends confused and whispering.
"My, my," Vivienne purred, her voice smooth as velvet but sharp enough to cut skin. "The prodigal wolf… playing house with humans."
Lucien's jaw tightened. "Vivienne."
Maya whispered to Ayla, "You know her?!"
Ayla's throat was dry. "Not… exactly."
Zoe squinted. "Okay, someone explain why I suddenly feel like we're extras in a mafia movie."
Vivienne ignored them, eyes locked on Ayla. "So this is the girl you've chosen." A smile, cruel and knowing. "Delicate. Breakable. Sweet. I can smell her blood from here."
Lucien was already on his feet, shielding Ayla with his body. His voice was low, dangerous. "One step closer, Vivienne, and this place becomes your grave."
The overhead lights flickered again, one bulb popping with a sharp crack. The waitress squeaked and scurried toward the kitchen.
Vivienne tilted her head, studying him like he was an animal on display. "Still the rebel. Still pretending you can protect what you care about. But you've forgotten, Lucien…" Her lips curved, revealing just the barest hint of fangs. "…everything you touch eventually bleeds."
Maya muttered under her breath, "Okay, nope, I'm out. She has fangs. Actual fangs."
Zoe hissed back, "Shut up, she'll hear you!"
Lucien didn't blink. "Leave. Now."
The diner seemed to hold its breath. Vivienne tapped one sharp nail against the table, the sound echoing louder than it should. Her eyes gleamed crimson in the dim light.
Finally, she laughed softly. "Relax, wolf. I won't take her… yet."
Her gaze flicked to Ayla again, burning. "But she smells like you now. Marked. Changed. It won't be long before she's truly one of us — or dead trying."
Ayla's heart thundered in her chest. Her friends' faces paled. They had no idea what they were standing in the middle of.
Lucien didn't wait. He grabbed Ayla's hand and hauled her toward the door. "We're leaving."
Vivienne made no move to stop them. She only leaned back in her booth, swirling the untouched glass of red wine the waitress had dropped at her table. The smile on her lips was pure malice.
As Lucien shoved open the diner doors, the night air rushed around them, cold and sharp. Ayla stumbled beside him, adrenaline burning through her veins.
Behind them, through the glass, Vivienne lifted her glass in a mocking toast.
The game had begun.
Chapter 38 – Cold Truths
The diner door slammed shut behind them, leaving the night air to claw at their skin. The street was quiet, the neon sign above buzzing faintly like an insect trapped in glass.
Ayla's pulse still thundered in her ears. She clung to Lucien's hand, her fingers ice-cold.
Maya spun on him first. "What the hell was that?!"
"Did she—did she have fangs?" Zoe's voice cracked. "Like… actual vampire movie fangs?"
Elena, usually the calmest of the three, looked pale as paper. "Lucien, please tell me I didn't just watch a woman's eyes glow red."
Lucien didn't answer at first. He scanned the street, making sure Vivienne hadn't followed. His shoulders were tense, every muscle coiled like a spring.
Ayla squeezed his hand. "Lucien."
He finally looked at her, then at the girls. His voice was low, even. "That was Vivienne. She's dangerous. And if you value your lives… you stay away from her."
Maya crossed her arms, her fear laced with defiance. "Uh, excuse me, we were just eating fries. Then Satan's prom queen shows up and threatens my best friend. You don't get to drop one cryptic sentence and walk away."
Zoe nodded furiously. "Yeah, you owe us at least, like… a five-minute supernatural TED Talk."
Despite everything, a faint smirk tugged at Ayla's lips. Leave it to her friends to demand answers in the middle of a nightmare.
Lucien sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. His eyes flickered—wolf for a heartbeat, then back to human. "She's not human. She's part of my world. One of the worst parts."
Elena swallowed hard. "And your world is…?"
Lucien hesitated, then said it: "The world of monsters. Wolves, vampires, predators that walk in daylight. Vivienne is one of them. She hunts. She manipulates. And she won't stop until she gets what she wants."
Maya blinked, stunned. "…Okay. So basically you're telling us our best friend is dating a Marvel character and the villain just showed up for her villain monologue?"
Zoe slapped her arm. "Maya! Not the time."
But Ayla actually let out a weak laugh. The absurdity, the fear, the adrenaline — it all tangled together. She leaned closer to Lucien, her shoulder against his. "They're not wrong, though."
Lucien looked down at her, his face softening just a little. "Except this isn't a movie, Ayla. It's real. And it's dangerous. Vivienne won't just stop at words next time."
The weight of his voice sank into her bones. She remembered the way Vivienne's eyes had burned into her, how every instinct screamed predator.
For the first time, Ayla whispered what had been gnawing at her since they walked out. "She's coming for me, isn't she?"
Lucien's jaw tightened. He didn't answer. Which was answer enough.
The friends shifted uneasily. Zoe muttered, "Great. Just great. This is how horror movies start. We're dead by the sequel."
Elena elbowed her sharply. "Not helping!"
Lucien pulled Ayla closer, tucking her against his chest. For a moment, the noise of the city seemed far away. His hand lingered at her back, steadying her, grounding her.
"No matter what happens," he murmured against her hair, "I'll keep you safe."
Ayla closed her eyes, clinging tighter. She wanted to believe it — needed to believe it — even as Vivienne's laughter echoed in the back of her mind.
Because deep down, Ayla knew the truth.
Vivienne wasn't just watching.
She was waiting.
Chapter 39 – The Hunter's Game
The bus ride back from the diner was uncomfortably quiet. For the first time in their friendship, Ayla's three best friends had nothing to say.
Zoe chewed her lip until it almost bled. Maya stared out the window like the dark streets would suddenly explain everything. Elena kept glancing between Ayla and Lucien, as if waiting for one of them to start explaining again.
Lucien sat at the back, his long frame taking up more space than the cheap vinyl seats allowed. He hadn't said a word since they left the diner. But his eyes — his normal, human eyes — kept flicking to the windows, scanning the dark like he expected it to move.
Ayla reached back and squeezed his hand. He gave her the faintest nod, though his jaw stayed tight.
Maya finally broke the silence. "Sooo, uh… just throwing it out there — maybe we should, I don't know, stay in groups from now on? Y'know, safety in numbers. Because in case anyone forgot, there's a literal demon Barbie after us."
Zoe groaned. "Maya, you're not helping my anxiety."
"You have anxiety," Maya shot back. "I just have survival instincts."
Elena sighed, rubbing her temples. "Both of you, shut up before I puke."
Despite herself, Ayla snorted. But her laughter died quickly, because she could feel it — that crawling unease, like invisible eyes on her skin.
Lucien suddenly sat up straighter. His nostrils flared.
Ayla's stomach dropped. "What is it?"
He didn't answer. He just stood, grabbed the cord, and yanked. The bus screeched to a stop in the middle of an empty street.
"Everybody out." His voice left no room for argument.
The driver muttered something about crazy kids, but Lucien had already herded them onto the sidewalk. Ayla's friends looked around nervously at the deserted street. Snow drifted lightly, glowing under the flickering streetlights.
"Uh," Zoe whispered. "Why do I feel like we just got kicked out of the bus in the middle of a horror movie?"
Lucien's eyes shifted—just for a second, wolf gold glinting under the lamps. "Because you're right."
And then they came.
Figures in the snow, silhouettes moving like shadows detached from the night. Vivienne's laughter echoed faintly, though she was nowhere to be seen.
Maya clutched Ayla's arm. "Nope. Nope. Absolutely not. This is above my pay grade as a high school student."
The first figure lunged. Lucien moved faster. He slammed into the attacker, his body shifting mid-motion—clothes tearing, bones cracking, his wolf form exploding into the snowy street.
Ayla's friends screamed in unison.
Zoe: "HE'S A GIANT WOLF!"
Maya: "NO HE'S A SUPERHERO WOLF!"
Elena: "WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!"
Ayla, heart racing, couldn't look away. Lucien was magnificent — dark fur glistening, muscles rippling, eyes glowing with raw fury.
The shadows didn't stand a chance. He tore through them with a violence that was both terrifying and breathtaking. Snow kicked up with every strike, the street painted with flashes of silver teeth and claws.
But even in his frenzy, Ayla noticed something. Every time a shadow got too close to her friends, Lucien shifted — placing himself between them and danger. Not just protecting her. Protecting them.
The fight ended as quickly as it began. The last shadow crumbled into ash-like smoke, vanishing into the night.
The silence afterward was deafening, broken only by Maya whispering, "...Holy crap. That was so hot. And so terrifying. But also so hot."
Zoe smacked her. "MAYA!"
Elena looked like she might faint. "We… we need therapy. All of us."
Ayla ignored them. She ran to Lucien as he shifted back, breathless and shaking, his skin pale from the change. She caught his face in her hands.
"You didn't just protect me," she whispered. "You protected them."
Lucien met her gaze, his chest heaving. "They matter to you. So they matter to me."
Something inside Ayla melted. Despite the fear, despite the danger, she pressed her lips to his right there on the snow-covered street, not caring if her friends were watching.
Behind them, Maya muttered, "Okay, yeah, we're definitely in a YA supernatural romance now."
Chapter 40 – The Red Veil
The snow had barely settled on the quiet street when the air shifted again.
It was colder now — not the natural chill of winter, but something sharper, unnatural, like frost crawling under skin.
Ayla froze, her lips still tingling from kissing Lucien, when she heard it. That laugh. Low. Velvet. Mocking.
"Adorable," a voice purred.
The friends whipped around, clinging to each other. Zoe actually squeaked like a terrified mouse.
She was there.
Vivienne.
Not in shadows, not in whispers, but in flesh. She stepped from the alley like she owned the street, red velvet coat swirling around her, hair like liquid fire spilling over her shoulders. Her eyes — crimson, gleaming, cruel — locked onto Lucien.
"Still playing knight for the humans, Lucien?" she drawled, tilting her head. "How quaint. I half-expected you to have devoured them by now. Or her."
Her gaze slid to Ayla, sharp as a blade.
Ayla's stomach knotted, but she forced herself not to flinch. She felt Lucien tense beside her, his hand curling into hers.
Vivienne smirked at the sight. "Ohhh… interesting. She's yours, isn't she?" She licked her teeth slowly, eyes flashing. "How reckless. How deliciously reckless."
Maya whispered to Zoe, "Do not make eye contact with the evil supermodel. I repeat: no eye contact."
Zoe whispered back, "Too late. She already looked at me. I think I peed a little."
Elena just muttered, "We're dead. We're actually dead."
Vivienne ignored them, her entire focus locked on Ayla now. "Tell me, little starlet," she said silkily. "Do you even know what you are? What he made you when he bit you? Or are you just playing house with the Lone Wolf, pretending this is love instead of hunger?"
Ayla's chest tightened. The words hit too close. She remembered that night in the snow, the pain, the burning cold — Lucien's voice begging her to choose life or death. And the way her veins had screamed ever since.
She swallowed hard, but met Vivienne's stare. "I chose him. Not you. Not your kind. Him."
Vivienne's smile widened, slow and predatory. "How precious."
In a blur, she moved — one moment standing ten feet away, the next a breath in front of Ayla, her icy hand grazing Ayla's cheek.
Lucien growled, stepping forward, but Vivienne lifted a finger in warning. "Ah-ah. If you attack me now, you risk her. And we wouldn't want that, would we?"
Ayla's heart thundered. Vivienne's touch was like liquid ice, freezing her skin, but she forced herself to hold steady.
"You're strong," Vivienne whispered, almost curious. "Stronger than most who survive the bite. But strength means nothing without allegiance. Sooner or later, you'll break. You'll hunger. And when you do…" She leaned in, lips near Ayla's ear. "…you'll be mine."
Lucien snarled, shifting half into his wolf form — eyes blazing gold, teeth bared. "Touch her again and I'll tear you apart."
Vivienne threw back her head and laughed, stepping back gracefully. "There it is. The beast pretending to be a boy." She glanced at Ayla one last time, her smile all teeth. "Enjoy your fairy tale while it lasts. I'll be seeing you… princess."
And with that, she vanished into crimson smoke, leaving the street empty except for the echoes of her laughter.
Silence.
Then Maya whispered, "Sooo… can we, like, move to a different continent now? Somewhere without demon models? Maybe, I don't know, Hawaii?"
Zoe snapped, "Maya, shut up before she hears you and decides to follow us there."
Elena, pale as a ghost, clutched Ayla's arm. "Ayla… what does she mean? What did she mean by 'when you hunger'?"
Ayla didn't answer. She couldn't. Because deep inside, where the bite still burned, she already knew.
Chapter 41 – Cracks in the Mirror
It began quietly.
The Monday after Vivienne's visit, Ayla thought she could pretend things were normal. School, friends, her perfect social mask. But sitting in class, she felt it — the steady thrum-thrum-thrum of hearts beating around her. Each one loud, warm, calling.
She gripped her pen too tightly. The ink smeared across her notebook.
"Miss Ayla?" The teacher's voice cut through. "Are you paying attention?"
Heads turned toward her, curious, admiring. And that was the problem. Because in that moment, Ayla didn't see classmates anymore. She saw… prey.
The boy in front of her shifted in his seat, his neck exposed as he scribbled notes. His pulse was a drumbeat, steady, rhythmic, intoxicating. Ayla's mouth went dry. Her fingers curled against the desk, nails biting wood.
Then —
"Ayla."
Lucien's voice, low, firm, from the back row. His eyes locked with hers, steady and grounding.
It snapped her out of it. Breath rushed back into her lungs. She shoved her chair back too fast, mumbling, "Bathroom," before bolting out.
In the hallway, she pressed her back to the lockers, shaking.
What's happening to me?
Moments later, Lucien appeared, calm but watchful. "It's starting," he said simply.
She wanted to deny it, scream that she was fine, but the tremor in her hands betrayed her. "I almost—" Her voice broke. "I almost bit someone, Lucien."
He stepped close, his presence both terrifying and comforting. "That's why I'm here. To catch you before you fall."
The second crack came at her own party.
Ayla had thrown it to prove — to herself, to her friends, maybe even to Vivienne — that she was still Ayla the starlet, not some monster. Music pulsed, lights danced, laughter spilled across the mansion.
But the crowd… oh God, the crowd.
Dozens of people, pressed together. Perfume and sweat. But underneath it all: blood. Everywhere.
Her throat burned.
Maya dragged her toward the dance floor, laughing, Zoe and Elena trailing. "Come on, Ayla, you've been hiding all night—"
Ayla barely heard her. Her vision blurred. The boy who bumped into her… she saw only the artery in his neck.
The hunger roared.
She staggered back, colliding with a table, gasping. People laughed, thinking she was drunk.
But Lucien was there, instantly, gripping her arm, his voice sharp in her ear. "Control it. Right now. Or walk away."
Her chest heaved. Her teeth ached.
Then, somehow, she tore herself free from the temptation, sprinting upstairs before anyone noticed the wild look in her eyes.
The third crack was the worst.
A week later, she was curled on her bed with her three best friends — Maya, Zoe, and Elena — giggling over some celebrity gossip. It was supposed to feel normal. Safe.
Then Zoe laughed too hard and slapped her wrist against the bedframe, splitting the skin.
Blood welled.
The scent hit Ayla like fire.
Her vision darkened. Muscles tensed. She could hear the rush of blood from Zoe's cut, like a waterfall calling her name.
"Ayla?" Zoe frowned, holding her wrist. "You okay? You're staring—"
Ayla lunged.
Only Lucien's sudden hand on her shoulder stopped her. He was just there, like he'd known it was coming. His grip was steel, his golden eyes warning.
"Not them," he growled softly, low enough that only she heard.
Ayla's whole body shook as she ripped herself back, slamming against the wall, horror flooding her face.
Her friends exchanged uneasy looks, whispering, but Ayla couldn't hear. Her chest was burning, her throat raw.
Because Vivienne had been right.
She was breaking.
Chapter 42 – Whispers and Warnings
The next morning at school, Ayla slumped into her desk like a ghost who hadn't slept all night. Which wasn't far from the truth. Her reflection in the mirror had shown dark crescents under her eyes, her skin a shade paler than usual. She kept telling herself she was fine, that last night was just stress, but the memory of Zoe's bleeding wrist still burned like fire in her throat.
"Girl."
Maya slid into the seat beside her, dropping a glitter-covered phone onto the desk with a dramatic thud. "You've been acting… spooky." She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Like—haunted-spooky. Not cute-spooky."
Zoe plopped down on the other side, chewing gum, narrowing her eyes. "Facts. You ditched your own party like a drama queen. Then yesterday, you were staring at my cut like you wanted to—" She paused, then smirked. "—lick it or something. Are you secretly into blood now? Vampire kink?"
Ayla nearly choked on air. "W-what? No!"
Elena, ever the sweet one, tilted her head. "We're just worried, Ayla. You've been distant. And—" she gave a sly little smile "—also glued to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Silent over there." She flicked her gaze toward the back, where Lucien sat in his usual isolated corner, scribbling notes as if the world didn't exist.
Maya gasped, dramatic as ever. "Oh my God. That's it. The wolf-boy has corrupted her."
Zoe snorted. "Wolf-boy? More like Hot Dracula. Look at his face—like he crawled out of some broody perfume commercial."
Ayla buried her face in her hands, groaning. "Please. Can we not?"
"Nope," Maya said cheerfully. "Because you're so hiding something, and besties don't let besties suffer alone. So, spill. Did he kiss you? Did he bite you? Did he—"
"Maya!" Ayla snapped, way too loud. Heads turned.
The girls burst out laughing.
"See?" Zoe teased, leaning close. "Defensive. Definitely something."
Ayla wanted to sink through the floor. On one hand, it was nice that her friends were still here, teasing her like everything was normal. On the other, the sound of their heartbeats, the warmth of their blood, was a constant reminder of how not normal she was becoming.
That night, Ayla was alone again.
Her friends' laughter had faded hours ago. The house was quiet, shadows stretching long across the walls of her room. She sat by the window, staring at the city lights, clutching her pillow like an anchor.
Her mind replayed every slip: the hunger at school, the frenzy at the party, the almost-attack on Zoe.
And then—
"You feel it, don't you?"
Ayla froze.
The voice was velvet, smooth, threaded with wicked delight. She didn't need to turn to know who it was.
Vivienne.
The older woman was leaning casually against the dresser, her silhouette painted silver by moonlight. She looked as though she belonged there, as though the shadows themselves had carried her in.
"You pretend with them," Vivienne purred. "Laughing, smiling, letting them believe you're still their golden girl. But when their blood sings, you ache, don't you? You burn. You crave."
Ayla's throat clenched. "No," she whispered. "I can control it."
Vivienne's laugh was soft, dangerous. "Control? Darling, you nearly tore your friend's wrist open last night. The only reason you didn't was because he stopped you. What happens the day he's not around?"
Ayla shook her head, clutching the pillow tighter. "I'm not a monster."
Vivienne stepped closer, her perfume like roses with thorns. She knelt in front of Ayla, brushing a strand of hair from her trembling face. "Sweet girl… monsters don't get to choose. You are what you are. And soon…" Her smile widened, sharp and knowing. "…you'll stop fighting it. You'll taste them. And when you do, it will feel glorious."
Ayla's chest heaved, her heart hammering like a drum.
But before Vivienne could say more, the air shifted.
A growl rumbled from the shadows.
Lucien.
He emerged from the corner of the room, golden eyes flashing with warning, shoulders tense, every inch of him ready to strike. "Get away from her."
Vivienne only smirked, rising to her feet, unbothered. "Ah, the lone wolf. Always playing guardian." Her eyes flicked between them. "But even you can't stop the inevitable."
And with a swirl of shadow and silk, she was gone.
Leaving only silence.
Ayla exhaled shakily, her knees weak. Lucien stepped forward, steadying her with his hands. For once, she didn't resist.
"She's right, isn't she?" Ayla whispered, her voice breaking. "I can't stop it. I'm… I'm becoming—"
Lucien cut her off, his tone firm but low. "You're not her. You're not what she wants you to be. As long as I'm here, you won't lose yourself."
But even as he said it, Ayla saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes.
And it terrified her more than anything Vivienne had said.
Chapter 43 – The Hunger Games
"Okay." Lucien's voice was calm, almost too calm for what he was about to do. "Close your eyes."
Ayla stood in the middle of his dimly lit basement — the only place he said was safe enough to "practice." She didn't like the word practice. It made her feel like some kind of unstable lab experiment.
She crossed her arms. "Close my eyes? That's your grand strategy? What is this, meditation class?"
Lucien arched a brow. "Do you want to learn control or not?"
Ayla muttered something under her breath but obeyed, squeezing her eyes shut.
The next second, she heard it.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Her nose twitched. Her throat burned. The air was suddenly thick with the metallic sweetness that made her chest tighten.
Her eyes flew open—
On the workbench, a mason jar of blood gleamed in the low light.
Ayla stumbled back. "Oh my God. Are you serious? You just—keep that around?"
Lucien folded his arms, expression unreadable. "Focus. This is what you'll face every day, Ayla. The scent. The urge. You need to learn to be stronger than it."
She pressed a hand to her chest, heart hammering. "Stronger than it? I can't even look at it without wanting to—" She cut herself off, horrified.
Lucien stepped closer, lowering his voice. "That's why I'm here. I won't let you lose control."
Ayla bit her lip, staring at the jar like it was a bomb about to go off. Then, because her brain was an unreliable idiot, she blurted: "This feels like some twisted version of The Hunger Games."
For the first time that night, Lucien's lips twitched into something dangerously close to a smile. "Except in this one, you're the only tribute."
"Not funny," she muttered, though her cheeks heated.
For an hour, they worked.
Lucien guided her through breathing exercises, making her stand within arm's reach of the jar, then closer, then closer still. Every time her throat burned and her vision flickered gold, his voice anchored her back.
At one point she almost lunged—fingers curling like claws, breath ragged—but Lucien caught her wrists, holding her steady. His grip was firm but careful, like he was afraid she'd break.
"Look at me," he ordered.
Her gaze snapped to his.
Golden eyes. Calm. Certain. A storm contained.
"You're stronger than this," he said. "Say it."
Ayla shook her head, trembling. "I'm not—"
"Yes. You are." His tone brooked no argument. "Say it, Ayla."
Her chest heaved. Her throat burned. But somehow, with his hands steady on hers, she found the words.
"I'm stronger than this."
Lucien's expression softened. Just a fraction. "Again."
"I'm stronger than this."
By the tenth repetition, she realized the fire in her throat had dimmed, just a little. The jar was still there, taunting her, but she wasn't moving toward it anymore. She was standing. Breathing. Still herself.
Her knees nearly buckled with relief.
Lucien released her wrists slowly, as though making sure she wouldn't collapse.
"You did well," he said, voice quiet.
Ayla blinked up at him, a weak laugh escaping. "Yeah. Great. Gold medal in not-eating-people."
Lucien's lips curved again. "That's a medal worth winning."
For a moment, the air between them shifted—less heavy, more… charged. Her pulse tripped over itself, though she knew he could hear every beat.
"Lucien…" she whispered, uncertain if she was thanking him or asking him for more.
But before either of them could move, her phone buzzed violently in her pocket.
She jumped, fumbling to pull it out. A text from Maya.
📱 "Girl WHERE are you?? Tomorrow's history test = we are doomed without your brain. Also Zoe swears she saw wolf-boy glaring at her in the cafeteria?? 👀 Spill tea."
Ayla groaned, shoving the phone back. "My friends are going to kill me."
Lucien's brow lifted. "Not if you kill them first."
Her jaw dropped—until she caught the smirk tugging at his lips.
"…Did you just make a joke?"
Lucien didn't answer, but the faintest gleam in his eyes gave him away.
Chapter 44 – Part One: A Wolf in the Classroom
The Monday morning bell rang across Crescent High, and Ayla Summers—rich girl, celebrity, now-secretly-a-half-wolf-creature—slammed her locker shut with a little more force than necessary.
The metal dented.
She froze.
A group of freshmen standing nearby turned at the loud CLANG, eyes wide.
Ayla smiled too quickly.
"Um… cheap metal." She patted the locker as if that explained everything. "School budget cuts."
The freshmen scurried away like pigeons.
From across the hall, her best friends Lila, Jenna, and Aria were already watching her with raised brows. They were the kind of girls who noticed everything, and Ayla knew keeping her new instincts a secret from them was going to be harder than convincing paparazzi she wasn't dating Lucien Draven.
When she reached them, Lila leaned in, whispering, "Okay, spill. Why are you suddenly the Hulk with lip gloss?"
Ayla forced a laugh. "I'm… working out?"
Aria gave her a slow once-over. "Since when does working out give you scary golden eyes sometimes? Don't think we didn't see them flash in chem lab last week."
Jenna crossed her arms, smirking. "And don't forget the growl. You growled at Mrs. Keaton when she took your phone away."
Ayla groaned and dragged them all toward first period before anyone else overheard.
"It's not what you think. I'm fine. Totally fine. Just… hormonal."
"Puh-lease," Lila snorted. "Hormonal doesn't dent lockers. Unless your hormones are on steroids."
The day didn't get any easier.
In English class, Mr. Carlton had everyone popcorn-reading aloud from Wuthering Heights. When it was Ayla's turn, she opened her mouth and—
"RRRUMMBBLE."
Her stomach growled. Loud. Not normal loud. Wolf-demon stomach loud.
Every single head in class turned.
She slapped a hand over her belly, face burning. "Uh… skipped breakfast."
From the back, someone muttered, "Sounded like a demon trying to escape."
Mr. Carlton blinked, clearly unsettled. "Perhaps… drink some water, Miss Summers?"
Lucien, two rows over, had his head down, shoulders shaking—not with fear, but barely contained laughter. He didn't even look at her when she hissed, "Shut. Up."
By lunchtime, things hit peak disaster.
The cafeteria was buzzing, trays clattering, kids laughing. Ayla slid into the line for pizza—only to nearly gag when the scent of pepperoni was drowned out by the far stronger smell of blood. Someone had cut their finger near the salad bar, and to her new senses, it was overwhelming.
Her throat tightened. Her vision sharpened. She could practically hear the kid's pulse racing.
No. No no no. Not here. Not now.
"Pull it together, Ayla," she muttered, gripping her tray until it cracked down the middle.
Lila, standing behind her, frowned. "Okay, why do you look like you're about to eat Kyle with the band-aid?"
Ayla spun around too fast, eyes wide. "WHAT? No! I— I just— I, uh— hate salad."
"Mm-hm." Jenna raised her brows. "Right. You've officially lost it."
When she finally escaped to a corner table with her friends, Lucien strolled past, dropping his tray down across from her. He leaned back, casual as ever, as if he hadn't just been laughing at her all morning.
"You're doing great," he murmured, only for her ears. "Really blending in."
She kicked him under the table. "You're supposed to help me."
"I am helping. I'm keeping a straight face while you try not to devour the marching band kid. That counts."
Ayla glared, but her lips betrayed her with a reluctant smile.
Her friends, of course, noticed everything.
Lila gasped, clutching her chest. "Oh. My. God. Did you just smile at him?"
Aria's fork clattered. "She never smiles at boys. Like ever. What is happening right now?"
Jenna smirked. "I knew it. Ayla Summers has finally fallen for the Lone Wolf."
Ayla nearly choked on her soda. "I—what—no—shut up!"
Lucien didn't say a word. He just smirked, the corner of his mouth curving like he'd already won.
Lessons in the Dark
That night, the world outside their neighborhood was swallowed in mist and silence. The moon hung low, pale and sharp, as if it were watching them.
Ayla pulled her hoodie tighter, shivering—not from the cold, but from nerves.
"Lucien, this is crazy. What if someone sees us?"
"No one comes out here," he replied, his voice low, steady, with that dark edge she could never quite read. He walked ahead into the woods, each step silent, predatory, like the shadows bent to him. "That's the point."
She glanced back at the streetlight fading behind them, her human world disappearing. When she faced forward again, Lucien was standing still, waiting, golden eyes faintly glowing in the dark.
"First lesson," he said. "Stop fearing what you are."
"I don't fear it," she lied, her pulse racing.
Lucien tilted his head, a wolf's gesture even in human form. "Then prove it."
With one step, he was in front of her, faster than her eyes could catch. He took her wrist, not roughly, but with certainty, and pressed her palm against his chest. His heart beat steady, strong. "You hear that? That's control. Even with the hunger, even with the power inside me, I control it. You can too."
Ayla swallowed, nodding, though her stomach twisted. "And if I can't?"
"Then I'll stop you."
The way he said it was both promise and threat.
He led her deeper into the woods until the trees opened into a clearing. The air smelled of earth, pine, and something wilder—his scent, already etched into her senses.
Lucien stepped back, his hands sliding into his pockets.
"Shift."
"What?"
"Shift," he repeated, firmer this time. "You've felt it. The cold in your veins, the fire in your chest when you're angry or afraid. Stop fighting it. Call it out."
"I don't know how," she whispered.
"Yes, you do," he said, eyes locking onto hers. "Close your eyes. Listen to your blood."
Reluctantly, Ayla obeyed. Darkness pressed against her eyelids. At first, all she heard was her own quick breathing. Then—something deeper. A rhythm, low and powerful, like a drum in her bones.
It spread. Heat, then sharpness. Her fingers trembled. Her teeth ached. And beneath it all—a wild hunger, clawing to be free.
Her eyes snapped open, glowing faint gold.
She gasped, stumbling back. "Lucien—I—"
But he was already there, steadying her shoulders.
"Don't fight it. Let it take form."
Her breath hitched as pain tore through her spine, bones shifting, skin crawling with heat. She dropped to her knees, clutching the dirt. A cry ripped from her throat, half scream, half growl.
Lucien crouched beside her, calm, patient. "That's it. You're almost there."
Her body bent, twisted—and suddenly, fur burst through skin, her frame stretching, reshaping. The world tilted. Her senses exploded: every pine needle, every rustle of wind, every heartbeat within miles sang into her skull.
She was on all fours.
Ayla blinked—and saw Lucien's wolf form before her. A massive black wolf, eyes like molten gold, watching her with something between pride and challenge.
For a long moment, they circled each other in silence. She could smell him—wild, electric, dangerous—and he could feel her pulse racing with her newfound strength.
Then, with no warning, Lucien lunged.
They clashed in the clearing, not with violence but with instinct. He pushed her, tested her, snapping at her flank, forcing her to respond. She stumbled, growled, snapped back. Her claws scraped the dirt, her body trembling with both fear and exhilaration.
Finally, she landed a strike—her paw catching his shoulder, shoving him back.
Lucien skidded, then straightened, shaking his fur. Instead of attacking again, he sat back, tongue lolling in something dangerously close to a wolf's grin.
In her new form, Ayla froze. Then—hesitantly—she let out a sharp bark. Almost a laugh.
For the first time, she didn't feel broken, or lost, or weak.
For the first time, she felt alive.
When they shifted back, breathless and covered in dirt, Ayla leaned against a tree, clutching her knees. Her hoodie was torn, her hair wild. Lucien stood over her, calm as always, though a faint scratch bled along his collarbone where she had struck him.
She pointed at it, smirking. "Guess I win."
He chuckled, low and dark. "That was just the warm-up."
Her smile faded when she realized he meant it.
Ayla leaned against the tree, still catching her breath. Her body trembled—not from fear anymore, but from the rush. She could feel the wolf inside her settling, like a beast finally unchained but no longer thrashing.
Lucien crouched in front of her, studying her face with quiet intensity. His golden eyes glowed faintly even in human form, though the rest of him was calm, skin pale against the night.
"You shifted," he said softly, a hint of pride in his voice.
"You didn't break. You didn't lose control. That's rare."
Ayla smirked, still panting. "Guess I'm a natural."
Lucien tilted his head, amused, but didn't argue. Instead, he reached out, brushing a smear of dirt from her cheek with his thumb. The touch lingered, slow, deliberate, and suddenly the night felt hotter than fire.
Her breath hitched. "You're staring."
"I always am," he admitted.
For a moment, silence wrapped around them, broken only by the whisper of wind through the trees. Then, Lucien leaned closer, his hand sliding from her cheek to cradle her jaw.
"Training's over," he murmured.
Her heart thundered. She should have pulled away—he was dangerous, he was everything her old life warned her about—but she didn't. She leaned in. Their lips met, hesitant at first, then urgent, hungry, almost as wild as their wolves had been.
Ayla tangled her fingers in his shirt, pulling him closer. Lucien deepened the kiss, one hand steady at her waist, the other still cradling her face.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, her lips tingled. She pressed her forehead against his, whispering with a shaky laugh:
"Some training session."
Lucien chuckled low in his throat, eyes glinting. "What did I say? Warm-up."
They walked back toward the edge of the woods hand-in-hand. Ayla's body still hummed with power, her mind dizzy with both the wolf and him. For the first time since her turning, she didn't feel cursed.
She felt chosen.
And Lucien—her dangerous, impossible savior—was looking at her like she was the only reason he hadn't given up on the world entirely.
Chapter 45 – Shadows at the Door Her House, Their Secret
The bus ride back from the woods still clung to Ayla's mind. The way people had stared at them—how the old woman had smiled knowingly, blessing her for "standing beside a good man." She could still hear it. A good man who saved her. If only they knew.
Now, hours later, Ayla padded barefoot across her room, her wet hair clinging to her shoulders after a rushed shower. The night pressed against her window, cool and silent. She peeked toward her bed, where Lucien was sitting like he owned the world, though he looked oddly out of place with his dark hoodie and serious stare.
"You know," Ayla whispered, grabbing a towel to dry her hair, "normal guys don't sit on girls' beds like gargoyles waiting to pounce."
Lucien raised an eyebrow, deadpan. "Normal guys don't save you from hypothermia in the woods either."
She threw the towel at him. "Touché."
The towel hit his face, and to her surprise, he didn't just let it fall. He caught it with a speed that shouldn't have been human and gave her a faint smirk. "You'll have to throw harder next time."
Ayla groaned, flopping onto the bed beside him. "You're impossible."
"And yet," he murmured, leaning closer, "you keep me here."
Her cheeks flushed crimson. She had no witty comeback for that. Instead, she buried herself into the pillow, mumbling: "Shut up."
Lucien chuckled, a rare sound—low and rich, the kind that made her heart skip. His hand brushed her wrist, warm despite his pale skin, and she froze.
Before she could say anything, the door burst open.
"Ayla! You're back!"
It was Mara, one of her three best friends, barging in like she owned the place, her loud voice echoing down the hall. Behind her trailed Tess and Nora, arms full of snacks.
Ayla shot up, panic surging. Lucien didn't move, didn't even flinch—just sat there, eerily calm as the three girls stopped dead in the doorway.
Mara's jaw dropped. "Uhm. Excuse me, who is this?"
"Uh—" Ayla squeaked, scrambling. "This is… uh…"
Lucien, unhelpfully, gave the girls a polite nod. "Lucien Draven. Nice to meet you."
"Draven?" Tess whispered. "That's… spooky. Hot spooky."
Ayla smacked her arm. "Shut up!"
Nora narrowed her eyes. "Wait. Is this the quiet guy from school? The one who stares like he can see into your soul?"
Lucien's lips curved into the faintest smirk. "I can."
The girls screamed, half in delight, half in panic. Ayla wanted to die.
"Get out!" she yelped, shoving them toward the hall. "We're… studying!"
"With him on your bed?" Mara cackled. "Right."
The door slammed, leaving Ayla red as fire. Lucien tilted his head at her. "They're… entertaining."
"They're insane," she muttered, burying her face in her hands.
"Still," he added softly, watching her, "they see you. And that's rare."
Something in his tone made her pause. She lowered her hands, meeting his gaze. His eyes, though normal now, held a weight she didn't fully understand. For a heartbeat, the room stilled, the world holding its breath.
And then, because life hated her, her mother's voice floated up the stairs:
"Ayla, honey? Who's the boy?"
Ayla groaned into the pillow. "I'm never going to survive this."
Shadows in the Dark
Far from the warm lights of Ayla's house, deep in the city's underbelly, shadows stirred.
A figure knelt in the snow-dusted alley, pressing a clawed hand into the frozen ground. His eyes burned a feral red, scanning the invisible traces of energy left behind.
"Wolf blood," he rasped. "But not pure."
Another presence stepped from the darkness, cloaked in smoke. Its voice slithered, low and venomous: "The Draven boy has broken the law of blood again."
The kneeling figure's lips pulled into a grin, sharp and hungry. "Then it seems… we have a new target. A girl."
The shadows rippled, twisting, as if the night itself was listening.
Far away, Ayla suddenly shivered under her blanket, though Lucien's warmth was pressed against her side. She didn't know why her chest felt tight, why her wolf stirred uneasily.
But in the dark outside her window, unseen eyes were already watching.
Chapter 46 – Heat and Frost Morning Mayhem
Ayla woke up to the faint sound of something scratching. For a wild moment, she thought oh no, claws, before realizing it was just Lucien doodling in her notebook at her desk.
She groaned. "You… draw?"
Lucien didn't even look up. "I was bored. Humans sleep too long."
Ayla sat up, rubbing her eyes, hair messy. "Excuse me? Eight hours is the bare minimum. You're the freak here."
He smirked faintly, flipping the notebook toward her. On the page was a near-perfect sketch of… her. Except she had wolf ears and a tail.
Her jaw dropped. "What—what is this?!"
"You, if you weren't constantly denying what you are now," Lucien said smoothly.
"Lucien!" she squeaked, snatching the book. "I look like a furry!"
He chuckled, which was somehow both rare and unfairly attractive.
Before she could yell at him again, her phone buzzed: Mara: GIRL GET YOUR BUTT TO SCHOOL WE'RE LATE
Ayla leapt up. "We're late!!"
Lucien raised a brow. "So?"
"So?! If I show up late again, Mrs. Hill is going to hang me by my hair!" She darted around, grabbing clothes, muttering curses.
Lucien leaned back in the chair, watching with infuriating calm. "I could run us there. We'd make it in seconds."
She froze, half into her jeans. "…Run us?"
"Yes," he said simply. "On my back. Wolf form."
She stared at him. "…Like Twilight?"
"…What's Twilight?" he asked flatly.
Ayla facepalmed. "Oh my god. You need culture."
Hallway Whispers
They did make it to school in time, though Ayla's hair looked like she'd been through a tornado. Mara and Tess immediately noticed.
"Girl," Tess whispered, grinning, "why does it look like you just got out of—"
"Don't. Say it," Ayla hissed, cheeks burning.
Meanwhile, Lucien walked ahead, his quiet, dark presence sucking all the air out of the hallway. People parted around him like he was some kind of forbidden prince.
"Who is that?" someone whispered.
"He's in our grade?!"
"I heard he doesn't talk because he's cursed."
Lucien ignored it all, but Ayla could feel eyes shifting between her and him. The unspoken question hung in the air: Why is the queen bee hanging with the loner?
Mara, ever the loud one, leaned close. "If he breaks your heart, I'm cutting off his manhood."
Ayla choked. "Mara!"
Lucien, from ahead, turned just enough that Ayla swore he smirked.
A Crack in the Dark
That night, while Ayla collapsed in bed after hours of homework and Mara's endless gossip session, Lucien slipped outside.
The moon was high, spilling silver light over the quiet street. His wolf form shimmered under the surface, restless. He tilted his head, sniffing.
The scent was there again. Wrong. Sour. Old blood mixed with ash.
He padded silently down the block, eyes narrowing. At the far end of the street, near the lamp that flickered unnaturally, a figure stood. Watching.
Lucien's jaw tightened. His teeth elongated just slightly, his wolf begging to be let out.
The figure didn't move, didn't blink—then, with a flicker of shadow, it vanished.
Lucien growled low.
Inside, Ayla stirred in her sleep. Her dreams were cold, filled with red eyes in the snow.
Chapter 47 – Shadows at the Window The Cafeteria Disaster
The next day, Ayla strutted into school with Mara and Tess at her sides, pretending she wasn't secretly buzzing inside from Lucien walking behind them.
The cafeteria was chaos as usual: food smells, loud laughter, and half the soccer team arguing over whether vampires or werewolves would win in a fight.
"Oh, the irony," Mara muttered under her breath, eyeing Lucien.
Ayla elbowed her. "Shut up."
They sat. Ayla was halfway through a bite of her overpriced salad when the worst happened—her ex, Jason, strolled in with his new girlfriend, Bianca, glued to his arm.
Bianca, who lived to torment Ayla.
"Wow," Bianca's voice rang out, sharp as glass, "didn't know cafeteria came with stray puppies."
Ayla froze.
Lucien, seated beside her, calmly looked up. "Puppies don't usually bite."
Bianca blinked. "Excuse me?"
Lucien tilted his head ever so slightly, eyes dark but still human-brown. "But I do."
The entire table went silent. Then Mara snorted, Tess choked on her juice, and Ayla kicked Lucien under the table.
Bianca huffed, muttering something under her breath before dragging Jason away.
"Lucien!" Ayla hissed. "You can't just threaten people in public like that!"
He leaned closer, so only she could hear. "You're mine. They don't get to talk to you like that."
Her face went red. "S-stop saying things like that in the middle of the cafeteria!"
A Window in the Dark
That night, laughter still clung to Ayla's mind as she studied late in her room. Mara had spammed her phone with memes about "mysterious hot loner boyfriends," and she was still blushing every time she thought of Lucien's words.
Then—tap. tap.
Her curtains shifted, though the window was closed. She froze.
Slowly, she stood, every hair on her body rising. Her mind whispered: It's just the wind.
But then she saw them.
Two glowing red eyes in the glass.
Ayla screamed.
In a blur, Lucien burst through her bedroom door, faster than any human should move. His eyes flashed gold, teeth sharp. He shoved her behind him just as the window shattered inward.
A figure landed silently on the carpet, tall and twisted, with skin too pale and veins like black vines crawling across its face.
Lucien growled low, a sound that vibrated through the floor. "You picked the wrong house."
The intruder hissed, rushing forward, claws flashing. Lucien caught its wrist, twisted, and with a sickening crack hurled it against the wall.
Ayla could only stare, heart pounding, as the creature's body slithered unnaturally back up, bones popping back into place.
"What—what IS that?!" Ayla gasped.
Lucien's voice was ice. "Not a vampire. Not a demon. Something worse."
The creature hissed again, but this time its gaze shifted—to Ayla.
Lucien saw it and snapped, stepping forward with lethal intent. His voice dropped to something primal:
"She's mine."
He lunged.
Chapter 48 – Teeth in the Dark
The room smelled of snow and blood.
The pale intruder crouched in the corner, lips peeled back to reveal jagged teeth. Its eyes burned with unnatural hunger, fixed on Ayla as if she were the only thing in the world.
Lucien's growl shook the walls. His body blurred—half human, half beast. Fingers lengthened into claws, his spine stretching beneath his shirt, veins glowing faintly beneath pale skin. His face didn't shift fully, but his golden eyes cut like fire in the dark.
Ayla clutched the bedpost. He's changing again…
The creature lunged first, impossibly fast. Lucien caught it midair, both of them smashing through Ayla's desk with a crash of wood and flying papers.
Ayla yelped and ducked as her laptop went skidding across the room. "That was due tomorrow!"
Neither monster paid her any attention.
The intruder raked its claws across Lucien's chest. Sparks of blood sprayed, sizzling where they landed. Lucien hissed, grabbed its throat, and slammed it against the wall so hard the plaster cracked.
"You shouldn't… have touched her."
The creature only snarled, spitting black ichor in his face. Then, with a jerk that no human bones could allow, it twisted free and darted past Lucien—straight for Ayla.
Her breath froze. Her legs refused to move.
I can't—
But something deep inside her stirred, something Lucien had awakened with his bite in the snow.
Her hand shot up on instinct, and to her horror, her nails had lengthened into curved claws. They glimmered in the dark as she slashed.
The creature shrieked as blood that smoked like acid sprayed from its cheek.
Ayla froze, staring at her hand. "What… what did I just—?"
Lucien was suddenly at her side, dragging the monster back before it could recover. He looked at her, breathless, a flicker of pride behind the fury in his eyes.
"You fought back."
Ayla swallowed hard, staring at her trembling hands. "I didn't mean to—"
"No," he cut her off. His voice was sharp, but there was something softer beneath it. "Don't ever apologize for surviving."
The creature shrieked again and lunged. This time, Lucien let the wolf fully out. His body shifted with a sound like tearing fabric, his black wolf form exploding into the room, massive and wild, golden eyes burning brighter than lamps.
The bed splintered as he collided with the intruder. Jaws like iron clamped around its shoulder, dragging it down. The fight was brutal, fast, savage. Claws against fangs, snarls against shrieks.
Ayla pressed herself against the wall, watching in awe and terror. That's him… that's Lucien… and he's fighting for me.
At last, with a final snap of his jaws, Lucien tore through the thing's throat. Its body convulsed, then collapsed into ash and black sludge that burned into the carpet.
The room went silent except for Ayla's ragged breathing.
The wolf stood in the wreckage, fur matted with black blood. Slowly, painfully, he shifted back, collapsing to one knee as his human form reassembled.
"Ayla…" His voice was low, hoarse. "Are you hurt?"
She shook her head, stepping forward, trembling. "No—but you are—"
"I'll heal." His eyes lifted to hers, still faintly glowing. "But you… you fought tonight."
She opened her mouth, but no words came. Instead, she did the only thing her heart screamed for.
She threw herself against him, arms wrapping around his neck, trembling into his chest.
Lucien stiffened at first—then slowly, his arms folded around her, strong, protective, possessive.
"You saved me," she whispered into him.
"No," he murmured into her hair. "We saved each other."
Chapter 49 – Ashes on the Floor
Morning sunlight streamed through Ayla's window, highlighting the disaster zone. The carpet was scorched, half her desk lay in splinters, her laptop was crooked with a claw mark through the lid, and the bedframe looked like it had survived a hurricane.
Ayla groaned, shoving a piece of broken wood under the rug. "This is fine. Totally fine. Just… redecorating."
Lucien sat on the edge of the ruined bed as if nothing had happened, pulling a clean shirt over his chest. His movements were slow, deliberate, the faint claw marks on his skin already fading.
"You call this redecorating?" he said dryly. "Looks more like a bear learned how to salsa dance in here."
She shot him a glare. "You're not helping."
"You asked me to stay. I stayed. Now your room looks like a crime scene. Not my problem."
"You literally broke the bed!"
Lucien raised an eyebrow. "Would you prefer I let the thing break you instead?"
Her face burned. "That's… not the point!"
Before she could argue more, her phone buzzed. Mara.
With a panicked squeak, Ayla snatched it up. "Hello?"
"Hey, princess," Mara's voice sing-songed. "Where are you? Tess and I are outside your dorm. You're not dead, right?"
Ayla's eyes went wide. Oh no.
Lucien tilted his head. "Let them in. Let's see how good you are at lying."
She mouthed don't you dare at him, then opened the door.
Mara and Tess stepped in—and froze.
"…What the hell happened here?" Mara asked slowly, eyes sweeping the wreckage.
"New feng shui," Ayla blurted. "I, um, moved things around. With… fire. And an axe."
Tess's jaw dropped. "You set your carpet on fire for feng shui?"
Lucien leaned back casually on the broken bedframe. "She's very committed."
Both girls turned at once. Their jaws dropped further.
"Who the hell is that?" Mara demanded, pointing at Lucien like he was an alien.
Ayla's face went nuclear red. "This is—uh—Lucien. He's… helping me with my studies."
Lucien gave a polite nod. "Chemistry. Mostly explosions."
Mara narrowed her eyes. "Chemistry, huh? Is that what you call it these days?"
Tess was already giggling behind her hand. "Oh my God, Ayla has a boyfriend. This explains the mysterious late nights and why she's been glowing."
"I AM NOT GLOWING!" Ayla snapped.
"Yes you are," all three of them said in unison.
Ayla groaned and buried her face in her hands.
The laughter, however, didn't last.
Later that afternoon, when her friends had finally left (after teasing her half to death), Ayla found Lucien standing by the window, his expression dark, jaw clenched.
"You're quiet," she said softly.
He didn't answer at first. His golden eyes scanned the horizon like he was waiting for something else to break through the glass.
"That thing last night," he finally said, his voice low. "It wasn't hunting. It wasn't feeding."
She frowned. "Then what was it doing?"
Lucien's hands curled into fists. "Delivering a message."
Her stomach dropped. "…From who?"
He turned, his pale face unreadable. "From my kind. They've noticed us. And they don't like what I'm doing with you."
A chill crawled up Ayla's spine. "What… what does that mean?"
Lucien stepped closer, his shadow falling over her. His voice was almost a whisper now.
"It means last night was nothing compared to what's coming. And if they want you dead—" His eyes flickered gold, just for a second. "—they'll have to go through me."
Ayla swallowed, torn between fear and a strange, dangerous thrill. She should have been terrified. But standing this close to him, watching the tension in his jaw, the protective fire in his eyes… she only felt safer.
"…Then let them try," she whispered.
Lucien's lips curved in the faintest, most dangerous smile she had ever seen.
Chapter 50 – Teeth Beneath the Smile
The abandoned gym smelled like dust and old leather. The windows were grimy, the lights flickered, and the punching bag hanging from the ceiling looked like it had been there since World War II.
"This place is creepy," Ayla muttered, crossing her arms. "Why are we training here?"
Lucien stepped into the middle of the room, his shadow stretching long in the dim light. "Because no one comes here. And because if you rip through the walls by accident, no one's going to send me the bill."
Her mouth dropped open. "I'm not that destructive."
He gave her a look. "You shattered your mirror brushing your teeth this morning."
She groaned. "Okay, that wasn't my fault. My hand twitched."
"Your hand twitched?"
"Yes!"
Lucien shook his head, fighting a smirk. "You're hopeless."
"I heard that!"
He motioned to the punching bag. "Alright. Hit it. But control yourself. Focus."
Ayla bounced on her feet, tried to copy his stance, and punched.
The bag flew off the chain, slammed into the far wall, and left a crater in the plaster.
"…Oops."
Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose. "That bag survived three wars. You killed it in two seconds."
Ayla giggled nervously. "Guess I'm strong."
"You're reckless," he corrected. "Strength means nothing without control."
She stepped closer, her voice dropping. "Then teach me."
For a moment, the air shifted—less playful, more… charged. His eyes caught hers, a storm of gold flickering behind the human brown.
Lucien cleared his throat sharply, breaking the tension. "Again. Slower this time."
Hours later, sweaty and aching but grinning despite herself, Ayla felt almost proud. She hadn't destroyed everything.
They left the gym and caught a public bus back to campus. The driver barely glanced at them, but the passengers…
Whispers spread like wildfire. An old woman clutched her purse tighter, staring at Lucien as if she couldn't decide whether he was a saint or a criminal. A little boy gawked openly at his height and pale skin.
And then, the sweetest thing—an elderly lady leaned forward, smiling warmly at Ayla.
"You've chosen well, dear," she said, her voice trembling but kind. "That young man… I can see it in his eyes. He'd protect you from the world if it burned."
Ayla flushed bright red. "O-oh, he's not—"
Lucien didn't look up, but she caught the faintest tug of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
For the first time, she didn't correct anyone.
That warmth shattered minutes later.
The bus jolted to a stop, and three figures climbed on. Too pale. Too tall. Their eyes glimmered faintly, like predators trying not to show their fangs.
Lucien's entire body went rigid. His hand tightened on the seat in front of him until the metal bent with a soft groan.
"Stay behind me," he whispered.
Ayla's pulse thundered. "Are they—"
"Yes," Lucien muttered. "They're mine."
The strangers scanned the passengers casually, their gazes sliding over the humans like cattle. Then one of them smirked at Lucien, lips parting just enough to reveal the edge of sharp teeth.
The tallest one spoke. His voice was velvet over steel.
"Lucien Draven," he said. "Aiden Mortalis. Our lost wolf. You've been busy." His gaze flicked toward Ayla. "Keeping… pets."
Ayla bristled, about to retort, but Lucien rose from his seat in one smooth, deadly motion.
The bus went silent. Even the driver froze, sensing something was wrong but not understanding what.
Lucien's voice was calm, but beneath it, Ayla felt the beast straining to break free.
"She's not yours to look at. Not yours to touch."
The stranger smiled wider. "We'll see about that."
The bus doors hissed shut. The humans sat frozen, too scared to breathe, not realizing monsters were about to fight among them.
Chapter 52 – The Girl Who Threw a Wolf
The bus door still swung on its hinges, squealing like it had witnessed a murder—which, technically, it had.
Humans scattered across the snow-covered roadside, some filming with shaky hands, others screaming into phones. One old man pointed at Ayla with wide eyes.
"You—young lady!" he wheezed. "I saw what you did! Threw that man like he was laundry! Strong girl! Keep him close!"
Ayla froze, cheeks burning. "I—I didn't—"
Lucien, mid-shift with fangs already showing, actually laughed. Laughed.
"Oh, you heard him, Ayla. You're laundry-woman now."
Her jaw dropped. "Lucien, this is not the time for jokes!"
"Baby," he said, eyes glinting gold, "every time is the time for jokes."
Then the snow crunched.
The first attacker staggered up from where Lucien had slammed him, fur bristling, eyes glowing like fire. His buddy, the one Ayla had launched through the door, rose too, shaking shards of glass from his hair.
They weren't laughing.
"You shouldn't have done that, girl," one growled, voice half-wolf. "Now you're ours."
Ayla's throat tightened. Her pulse hammered. She felt it again—that pull inside her veins, the wolf scratching to get out. Lucien's hand brushed hers briefly, grounding her.
"Breathe. Don't let them control your fear. Let it feed you."
Her breath fogged in the freezing night. Slowly, she nodded.
The first wolf lunged at Lucien. Claws met claws, teeth clashed with a sickening crunch. The second wolf charged Ayla.
This time, she didn't freeze.
With a wild snarl she didn't recognize as her own, she ducked low, grabbed his arm mid-swipe, and spun. Her body moved on instinct—wolf instinct. The attacker's momentum carried him right into the icy ground with a bone-cracking wham.
The humans watching gasped. Someone screamed, "WHAT IS HAPPENING?!" Another yelled, "This is the Devil's work!"
Lucien, even mid-fight, barked a laugh. "Relax! She's just getting warmed up!"
Ayla rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the grin tugging at her lips.
The wolf beneath her roared, flipping back to his feet, eyes blazing red. He lunged again—faster.
But this time, Ayla was ready.
She sidestepped, claws sliding out in a flash of silver. The sound shocked her—metal-on-metal. The wolf snarled and swung again, and she blocked it, sparks flying in the snow.
She was… fighting. Really fighting.
Lucien, meanwhile, slammed his opponent into the side of the bus so hard the windows shattered. He smirked, blood dripping from his fangs.
"Do me a favor," he growled. "Don't bleed on the seats. The driver already looks traumatized enough."
The poor bus driver had fainted against the wheel.
The fight raged, snow turning red beneath claws. Ayla felt her heartbeat sync with Lucien's—wild, powerful, wolf. Each time she thought she'd fall, his voice cut through the chaos, steady and sharp:
"Good—again."
"Faster."
"Don't hesitate, Ayla. They'll smell it."
And each time, she struck harder.
At last, the wolves staggered, broken and bleeding. They exchanged one look at Lucien, then at Ayla—her golden eyes blazing, her breath steaming in the air, blood streaked across her hands—and they fled into the trees.
The forest swallowed them whole.
Silence.
Ayla panted, chest heaving, staring down at her claws. "Did I just… win a fight?"
Lucien, covered in snow and blood, grinned wickedly. "Not bad for a laundry-woman."
She smacked his arm. "Shut up!"
The old man, still watching, clapped slowly, teeth chattering in the cold.
"She's a keeper, boy. Don't let her go."
Lucien's grin softened into something dangerous—something intimate. His golden eyes lingered on her face as he whispered:
"Never."
Chapter 53 – Snow and Blood
The bus leaned sideways in the snowbank, one headlight flickering like it was as traumatized as the driver. Humans were scrambling everywhere—phones out, some praying, some crying, some already booking hotel tickets back home.
The old man who had praised Ayla earlier shuffled up, coat flapping in the icy wind. He pointed a trembling finger at Lucien.
"Young man… you protect her well. Good men are rare. Don't you let her down."
Lucien blinked at him, surprised. Then, with an oddly humble nod, he said, "I won't."
Ayla's chest tightened. She looked away, cheeks warming in the cold.
The driver stirred, blinking awake. His eyes bulged when he saw the claw marks gouged deep across the bus.
"NOPE!" he screamed, throwing his hat down. "I QUIT! I am NOT paid enough for this demonic Uber ride!"
Lucien smirked as the man stumbled off into the snow. "Guess we're walking."
Ayla groaned. "You're enjoying this way too much."
"Walking with you? Always."
She rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched at the corners.
They left the chaos behind, their footprints carving twin paths through the thick white snow. Ayla hugged herself against the freezing air, though the wolf blood in her veins kept her warmer than before.
"Lucien…" she whispered after a while. "Back there… I didn't freeze this time. I actually fought."
He glanced at her, eyes normal again, skin pale but more human now. A faint smile tugged his lips.
"You didn't fight, Ayla. You won. There's a difference."
The pride in his voice hit her harder than the cold wind. She swallowed, hiding her grin in her scarf.
The forest around them creaked with the weight of snow. It was too quiet.
Lucien's smile faded. He stopped walking. His head tilted, listening.
Ayla frowned. "What is it?"
He didn't answer immediately. Then his voice dropped low.
"They're not done."
From the shadows of the trees, glowing eyes flickered one by one. First two. Then four. Then six. A pack. Larger, meaner, blood still fresh on their fur.
The ones they had fought earlier had brought reinforcements.
Snow crunched as they stepped into the open, forming a wide half-circle around Lucien and Ayla. Their growls rumbled like thunder in the frozen night.
One of them—massive, scarred across the muzzle—snarled, "You think you can humiliate us in front of humans? Now you both die."
Ayla's throat went dry. "Lucien…"
But Lucien's grin returned—sharp and wild.
"Good. I was getting bored."
He shifted, bones cracking, fur bursting forth until the great black wolf stood where the boy had been.
Ayla's heart pounded. Then—her wolf inside clawed upward, begging to be free. She closed her eyes, let go of hesitation—and fur rippled across her skin.
A golden-brown wolf stood at Lucien's side.
The pack froze for a second.
Lucien's golden eyes flashed toward Ayla. His voice thundered in her head through the pack bond for the very first time:
Fight with me.
And together, they leapt into the snowstorm.
Chapter 54 – The Bond of Blood
The snow exploded under Lucien's leap, his black form cutting through the storm like living shadow. Claws shredded fur, teeth snapped bone. His growl shook the trees.
The scar-muzzled wolf lunged at him—but Lucien caught it mid-air, slammed it into the ground so hard the snow cratered.
Stay with me, Ayla! his voice rumbled in her head.
For a heartbeat she froze. The pack bond—raw, terrifying, intimate—was inside her. His thoughts wrapped around hers like flame curling through dry wood.
Her golden-brown fur bristled. Another wolf came for her. Instinct surged. She ducked low, rolled, then sank her teeth into its throat. Hot blood filled her mouth. She gagged, trembling… but didn't let go.
The creature twitched once, twice… then fell still.
She'd killed. For the first time.
Lucien landed beside her, muzzle streaked red, eyes burning gold. His wolf mind pressed closer into hers.
You did it.
Her breath hitched. I… I killed him.
No, Lucien's growl softened, echoing deep in her skull, you lived. There's a difference.
Another wolf lunged from behind—Lucien spun, shielding her with his own massive body. His jaws closed with a crack that silenced the air.
The scarred wolf rose again, bloodied but furious.
"You think one girl makes you stronger, Draven? She'll break. Like all humans do."
Lucien's growl thundered, rattling the very snow. He stepped forward, towering.
"She's not human. Not anymore. She's mine."
The bond between them flared hot, searing Ayla's chest. She felt his rage, his pride, his… love. And something inside her answered.
Her eyes blazed gold. Her body surged forward on its own, her wolf joining Lucien's in perfect rhythm. When he struck, she struck. When he tore, she ripped.
Together, they weren't two wolves. They were a storm.
The last of the pack faltered. Broken bodies littered the snow, red staining the white in violent streaks.
The scarred leader backed away, ears flat. But Lucien was already on him. With one final crushing bite, the black wolf ripped victory from his throat.
The forest fell silent. Only the sound of their breaths and the falling snow remained.
Ayla shifted first, collapsing to her knees in the snow, body shaking from adrenaline. Her lips trembled, red still smeared across them.
Lucien shifted too, kneeling beside her. His pale skin looked almost luminous under the moon, his chest rising and falling hard.
Ayla whispered, voice cracking, "I… felt you. In my head. In my heart. Lucien, it was like we were one."
His hand cupped her face, thumb brushing blood from her cheek. His golden eyes dimmed back to their human calm.
"That's because we are, Ayla. From now on, we don't fight alone."
Her lips parted, breath visible in the frosty air. "I don't want to."
He leaned closer, forehead touching hers, their breaths mingling. Around them, the snow fell softly—peace after the storm.
For the first time, Ayla didn't feel small in this world of monsters.
She felt powerful.
Chapter 55 – The Morning After the Storm
The bus was silent when Lucien and Ayla climbed back on. Snow clung to their boots, their hair damp with melted frost. Every seat of the bus seemed to lean away from them.
An old woman near the front turned in her seat, eyes narrowing. She studied Ayla—her flushed face, trembling hands, Lucien's steady grip on her wrist.
"Stay close to him, girl," the woman rasped. Her words carried more weight than casual advice. "That boy… he's a good man. Saved you. Don't let him go."
Ayla blinked, caught off guard. Lucien only gave a small smile, but Ayla felt the warmth of his hand tighten around hers.
The bus engine rumbled. Whispers buzzed behind them.
"Did you see the way he dragged her back? Like she was weightless…"
"Yeah, and his eyes… swear I saw them glow for a second."
"You're crazy. He's just… tall. That's all."
Ayla slumped into her seat, pressing her forehead to the cold window. Her mind spun with blood and snow and teeth. Her stomach churned with a hunger she didn't recognize.
Lucien leaned close, murmuring just for her. "Don't fight it. The hunger, the senses… it's overwhelming now. But you'll learn to control it."
"I… I killed one of them, Lucien." Her voice was a whisper, full of horror.
He tilted his head, eyes catching the faint streetlight glow as the bus drove on. "You defended yourself. You lived. That's nothing to regret."
She shook her head, gripping his sleeve. "It's not just that. I didn't hate it. That scares me."
Lucien's smile curved—half dark, half amused. "Good. That means you're mine."
Ayla's eyes widened. Then she punched him lightly in the arm, muttering, "You're impossible."
The tension broke. For a moment, she even laughed—a soft, exhausted laugh that made the old woman smile knowingly at them from the front seat.
Back in the city, normal life tried to resume. School bells rang, students gossiped in the hallways, parties were planned. But for Ayla, every sound was sharper, every smell richer, every human heartbeat a distracting drum.
And Lucien… never left her side.
Her three best friends noticed immediately.
"Okay," Mia said, arms crossed. "You vanish on an excursion, then reappear clinging to Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Scary like he's your bodyguard. What. Happened."
Ayla fumbled. "I… slipped. Snow. He saved me."
"Saved you how? CPR? Bridal carry?" Jess teased.
Lucien appeared at Ayla's locker just then, sliding a hand around her waist with quiet possessiveness. His golden eyes flicked lazily over her friends.
"Both," he said smoothly.
The girls blinked. Ayla turned crimson. Lucien only smirked.
Chapter 56 – Whispers in the Dark
But while Ayla was struggling to blend back into teenage life, the world beyond their city had already shifted.
In a dark cathedral lit only by candlelight, figures cloaked in shadow whispered.
"The Draven boy has bonded," one hissed.
"With a human?" another scoffed. "That's impossible."
"She's no longer human. The bond made her one of them."
A heavy silence fell. Then, the eldest voice—cold, ancient—broke it.
"This cannot be allowed. A hybrid of Draven's bloodline and a human will upset the balance. Send the hunters. Find them both."
Back in the city, Lucien was walking Ayla home when he suddenly stilled. His wolf senses sharpened—he smelled something wrong.
"Lucien?" she asked softly.
He grabbed her hand, pulling her close. His voice dropped, dangerous and quiet.
"They know about you, Ayla. They're coming."
Her heart thudded in her chest, louder than it ever had before.
"Then we fight," she whispered.
For the first time, Lucien's deadly smile wasn't just for himself—it was for them both.
Chapter 57 – Lessons in the Dark
Lucien wasn't a patient teacher.
"Again," he snapped, circling her as she stood barefoot on the frosty ground behind his apartment building.
"I am trying!" Ayla groaned, shivering. Her breath came out in pale clouds. She clenched her fists, trying to summon the fire that had coursed through her veins that night in the snow.
"Don't try," Lucien said sharply. His golden eyes caught hers. "Feel. Hunger. Anger. The wolf comes when you stop pretending to be human."
She growled under her breath. "That's encouraging."
"Not encouraging," Lucien corrected. "True."
Her first "shift attempt" ended in disaster. Ayla's nails lengthened into claws halfway, her eyes flashed yellow—and then she sneezed so hard she toppled over.
Lucien stared. Then—snorted. Actually snorted.
Ayla sat up, glaring. "Oh, shut up."
He covered his mouth with his hand, shoulders shaking. "I'm not—laughing."
"Yes, you are."
"Fine." His grin broke loose, sharp and dazzling. "You look like a furious kitten."
Ayla threw a shoe at him. He caught it midair without blinking.
Later, in the school cafeteria, Mia leaned across the table, whispering.
"Okay. What's going on with you? You barely touch your food. You're glowing like you discovered a skincare brand from the gods. And you…" She leaned even closer. "...growled at Ben Harper in math class yesterday."
Jess gasped. "She did what?"
Ayla buried her face in her hands. "It slipped out, okay?"
Lucien appeared then, sliding his tray down beside her. He leaned back casually, wrapping an arm around her chair. "She's improving."
Her friends stared. "Improving at what?!"
Lucien's smirk was merciless. "Not biting people."
Ayla kicked him under the table.
That night, training was different. More serious. Lucien led her to an abandoned warehouse, its windows broken, moonlight pouring through the gaps.
"This place is safe," he said. "No one will hear if you lose control."
Her pulse quickened. "Lose control?"
Lucien stepped closer, his voice dropping low. "Ayla… when the wolf takes over, it doesn't ask. It takes. If you don't master it, it will master you."
Her throat went dry. But she nodded. "Then teach me."
For once, he looked proud.