Alora's POV:
The cafeteria was a low-frequency hum of gossip and clattering trays, the kind of white noise I usually thrived in.
"Alora, seriously, focus," Chloe said, waving a highlighter in front of my face. "The debate club meeting is moved to Thursday. Are you even listening?"
I blinked, coming back to the table with a bright smile. "Thursday is fine, Chloe. I've already outlined the rebuttal for the healthcare topic anyway."
Across the table, Liam was watching me, that familiar, steady warmth in his eyes. Everything felt right. The strange tension of the past week—the rumors of the Russian transfer student, the odd feeling of being watched—had finally begun to fade into the background. In a school like Hollowridge, drama was seasonal, and I was ready for a change of weather.
The encounter in the alley was already becoming a blurred memory, a strange blip in an otherwise perfect record. I wasn't "recovering" because I didn't need to. I was Alora Hale; I had handled Jax, and I had walked away from the other guy. I was exactly who I had always been.
"You're in a good mood," Liam noted, his hand finding mine under the table. His thumb traced a slow circle over my knuckles.
"Just a good day," I replied. "Trig was easy, the weather is clearing up, and I'm pretty sure I just aced that history essay."
The heavy double doors of the cafeteria slammed open, the sound echoing sharply against the linoleum. I didn't turn around. Someone was always making a scene, usually for attention—probably just some freshman being dramatic. I kept my eyes locked on Liam, laughing as he made a ridiculous face at Chloe's neon-pink highlighter. My world was small, bright, and perfectly contained. I didn't see the dark-haired boy standing up with a lethal edge to his movements. I didn't see him haul a girl toward the gym.
I was too busy living in the light.
The rest of the afternoon was a blur of productivity. I was the girl with the plan, the girl who didn't let the shadows of the hallway distract her from the goal. By the time the final bell rang, the parking lot was bathed in a gorgeous, honey-thick sunset that made the brick buildings look like they were glowing.
Liam caught me by my car, his expression softer and more intense than I'd ever seen it.
"Alora, wait," he said, taking my hand and leading me behind the row of school buses where the air was quiet and smelled of cooling asphalt.
"I've been waiting for the right moment," he whispered, looking down at our joined hands. "But I realized I don't want to wait anymore. I want everyone to know you're with me. No more guessing, Alora. I want you to be my girlfriend. For real."
My heart did a happy, frantic little dance. "Liam?"
"I love you," he breathed, and before I could answer, he pulled me in close. His embrace felt like a fortress, a solid promise of safety. When he kissed me, it was deep and possessive, a claim he had been waiting years to make. His mouth moved to the side of my neck, and I felt a sharp, stinging pressure as he bit down, marking me right over my pulse. I winced, but I didn't pull away. It was a brand of belonging. I felt untouchable.
I realized ten minutes later that I'd left my leather-bound notebook in my gym locker. "Go ahead to the cafe," I told Liam with a quick kiss, my hand lingering on his arm. "I'll grab it and meet you there in ten. I need those notes for tonight."
I hummed to myself as I walked back through the side entrance of the gym. My mind was a whirlwind of Liam, the feeling of his lips on mine, and the sudden, perfect clarity of my life. I was happy. I was safe. I was me.
I was halfway down the corridor leading to the locker rooms when the heavy metal door swung open with a violent bang. I stumbled back, nearly losing my footing, as I ran straight into a wall of heat and leather.
The air in the hallway changed instantly—it went from the sterile smell of floor wax to something heavy, dark, and metallic.
I looked up, and my heart stopped.
It was Kieran Black. But he looked... terrifying. His shirt was a mess, his hair was wild, and his knuckles were raw, dripping fresh blood onto the floor. He looked like he had just finished tearing something apart with his bare hands—the raw violence coming off him was so thick it felt like physical pressure.
"You're late, Alora," he rasped. His voice sounded like it was being dragged over broken glass.
"Get out of my way, Kieran," I said, my voice shaking as I tried to step around him. I didn't want to see him. I didn't want him in my perfect day. "I'm not in the mood for this."
He didn't move. Instead, he stepped into my space, his shadow towering over me. Before I could even draw breath to scream, his hand shot out, wrapping around my throat. He didn't choke me, but he used his strength to hoist me upward until my toes barely grazed the floor, pinning me against the cold metal of the lockers.
He smelled of sweat, raw rage, and that dark, heavy tobacco.
"I saw you today," he hissed, his eyes dropping to the scarf I'd tried to tuck around my neck. He reached out with his bloody hand and ripped the fabric away, exposing the fresh, dark mark Liam had left there.
His face disintegrated into something demonic. His gray eyes were blown wide, pulsing with a lethal, quiet fury that made my blood turn to ice.
"He touched you," Kieran whispered, the words vibrating against my skin. "The shadow put his mouth on you."
"I'm with him, Kieran!" I choked out, clawing at his iron-tight wrist. "He's my boyfriend! It's over!"
A low, terrifying sound—halfway between a laugh and a sob—broke from his chest. "Boyfriend?"
He didn't let go. Instead, he leaned in and sank his teeth into the exact spot where Liam's hickey was. He didn't just bite; he tore at the skin, a savage, primal act of erasure that made a scream tear from my throat. He was tasting the other man's claim, literally trying to rip the memory of Liam out of my skin.
He pulled back, his mouth stained with my blood.
"You think a bruise from a coward makes you his?" he murmured, his face inches from mine, his eyes burning with a hunger that felt like it would consume me whole. "You're mine, Alora. Only mine. And I'm going to make sure you never forget it."
He leaned down, his tongue darting out to lick the blood from the wound he'd just made, his breath hot and lethal against my ear.
"I don't play by the rules. I burn the board. Go home to your 'hero.' Let him see what a real wolf does to his property."
He dropped me, and I collapsed to the floor, gasping for air as the world spun. I didn't look up as his heavy boots clicked away down the hall. I just sat there in the dark, my hand trembling as I touched the stinging, bleeding mess on my neck.
Liam was waiting for me at the cafe. But as I sat there, sobbing silently on the cold floor, I realized that the safety he promised was just an illusion. The monster was real, and he had already won.
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Author's Note: Babies, I am back. Yep I know I know this chapter is dark but I needed to compensate🌑.
No, the monster is not romantic 🚫🐺. He is obsessed in the most wrong way possible.
If you're uncomfortable, that's intentional 😬.
This scene exists to shatter illusions—of safety 🛡️, of control 🎭, of "the right guy" fixing everything 💔.
Kieran is not love; he's obsession wearing teeth 🩸. Liam is not weak; he's human🧍♂️. Alora's world had to crack before it could be rebuilt 🔥.
Monsters always strike when the sun is brightest ☀️➡️🌒.If you're mad 😡, unsettled 😵💫, or clutching your neck—good 😈.
Sit with it 🪑. We're just getting started 🚪. This week you are gonna get the darkest chapter of history.
-Vaanni 🖤
Radhe Radhe💕
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