The rest of the day passes in a blur. I mindlessly switch through classes. Math, science, AP English... It's all such a bore. Technically, I'm not even meant to be in high school right now, since I never really went through middle school.
But I have learned enough to understand at least a bit of what the teachers saying I guess.
I keep my eyes on Carlos. He thinks he's the one spying on me or whatever. Clueless idiot.
A few people—guys especially—try to approach me, but I ignore them all. I'm not interested in horny high school boys who steal their dad's cologne and act like it's a blessing they're even looking in your direction.
My sharp ears pick up how some of them are already starting rumors about me—the new student who's "totally down" and apparently giving every guy in Ashford High fuck-me eyes.
Assholes.
Although, I can't seem to find a single fuck in me to give them.
The bell finally rings, and school officially ends for the day. I open my locker to drop off some books, and my eyes land on the novel the girl who sat with me—Elana or something—left behind.
The Song of Achilles. It had been one of my favorite reads once upon a time.
I spot a blonde boy—presumably that girl's friend—walking out of school and head toward him.
"Excuse me." I tap his shoulder. He turns, taking out his AirPods. Striking green eyes, warm tan skin in contrast to my pale skin, and eyebrows so bushy they could possibly have their own zip code. He frowns.
"Sorry?"
"You're, ehh… Eliana's friend, right?"
He squints. "Who's that?"
"Your friend with the brown eyes."
"Oh, you mean Elara…"
"That's what I said." I roll my eyes and hand the book toward him. "Give this to her, please."
He takes the book, glances at the cover, and I turn to leave.
"Wait—it's Ashley, right?" he asks.
"No." I respond sarcastically, the corner of my lips tugs up. "It's Eliana."
I hear him breathe out a laugh.
***
The night clings to me like a second skin.
Fog curls around my ankles as I move through dark trees, quick and quiet, every shadow bending toward me. My senses stretch thin, razor-sharp—like the sound of a heartbeat far away. A cracking branch. The metallic tang of blood in the air, old but not forgotten.
The constant roar of water from a waterfall.
My muscles hum with leftover energy, a restless, dangerous buzz beneath my skin. I should go home. I should stop before it pushes forward again.
I climb the top of a hill and gaze at the crescent moon adorning the night sky. Regal. Majestic. Like Selene herself is watching from her silver throne—not that I believe in moon deities, but it's a romantic thought nonetheless.
I raise my snout and let the sound erupt from my chest.
***
By the time I reach the little house on Old Mill Road, the fog has settled low, like it's trying to hide my tracks. I slip through the front door as quietly as I can—
But Clarke is already on the couch, arms crossed, eyes sharp enough to draw blood.
"Where have you been?" he asks, one eyebrow raised.
His voice is calm. Clarke's voice is always calm. Yet I still know he's worried. Not that he needs to be.
I wipe the cold from my cheeks and slow my breathing. I avoid his eyes. "Just… out," I say. "Needed air."
His gaze drifts over me—my trembling fingers, the dew in my hair, the faint dirt on my shoes. He doesn't believe me. He never does. But he doesn't push.
"Next time," he says softly, "don't disappear." His eyes are glassy behind his glasses, his voice holding several layers of meaning.
He shakes his head slowly and looks away as if to wipe his eyes.
"There's pizza." He nods toward the kitchen counter, then faces back at me with a half-smile. "Wanna help me finish it off?"
"It's fine, I already ate."
I slip past him toward the hallway, the thrum beneath my skin finally fading. The house is warm. Safe. Normal.
I try to want to be those things, honestly.
But it's not who I am, and it never will be.
I close my bedroom door. It's almost exactly the same as I left it all those years ago—before I met the one who changed my life forever.
The place is still decorated the way a little girl would dream her room to be. Clarke has offered to help me redecorate more times than I can count, but I keep putting him off. No need, not when I don't plan on staying here long.
The framed picture on my dresser shows a wide-eyed little girl in a toothy grin, hugging the neck of an older woman in her early thirties, her hair like shadows and her storm-grey eyes beaming at the camera.
I take a moment, admire it—my daily ritual—then sigh. Back when the world wasn't shrouded in darkness. When I still had my mum.
I shower and crawl into bed. Thoughts of my mission follow me into sleep.
***
The days that follow are uneventful, to say the least. The curfew the Mayor placed on the town is in full effect; the town is restless after the body of Claudia Stain, a wealthy man's wife, was found dead.
Not that the law stops me from taking my nightly strolls through the woods.
The high schoolers are already plotting a rebellion against public authority: a party in the middle of Saturday night. From what I've heard, it's supposed to be some kind of bonfire-rave deep in the woods—because what screams "Fuck you, authority!" louder than a bunch of drunk teenagers dancing around open flames while there's a literal killer on the loose?
Carlos has tried approaching me multiple times this week, and I either ignore or disacknowledge his presence. I assumed he'd have given up by now, but he's… stubborn. I'll give him that. I still watch him from a distance; there's been no sign of the black wolf for a while.
Not sure how long that'll last.
Saturday night arrives. I quietly slip out of the house and head for the woods.
The bonfire is starting.
If there's a place or time for the black wolf to strike, it's there.
Game on.