Iris
By Monday morning, I had theories.
They weren't good theories. They weren't even smart theories. But they were something, and my brain hated empty spaces. Empty spaces invited imagination, and imagination had a way of running straight into paranoia.
So I filled the gaps.
Theory one: Noah Vale was an athlete.
Explained the reflexes. The posture. The way he moved like his body listened before his mind finished speaking.
Except , no calluses on his hands. No soreness after gym. No bragging, even accidental.
Theory two: military family.
Explained the awareness. The scanning. The exits.
Except , no tension when teachers raised their voices. No startle response. No flinching when lockers slammed behind him.
Theory three: anxiety.
Explained the distance. The quiet. The control.
Except , anxious people didn't look bored when chaos unfolded.
Every answer fell apart the moment I tried to pin it down.
By third period, I was annoyed.
By lunch, I was invested.
Noah sat in his usual place by the windows, notebook open, untouched sandwich beside him. He didn't pretend to eat anymore. He just… let it exist.
I slid into the seat across from him without asking.
"You know," I said, "most people at least try to look normal."
He didn't look up. "Define normal."
"Eating," I said. "Complaining. Laughing too loud at jokes that aren't funny."
"I don't find many jokes funny."
"Shocking," I muttered.
I watched him write. His handwriting was neat but old-fashioned, like someone who'd learned to write with more intention than speed.
"What are you writing?" I asked.
"Notes."
"About?"
He closed the notebook calmly. "Class."
I leaned back. "You're terrible at deflection."
"I'm excellent at it," he corrected. "You're just persistent."
"Is that your polite way of saying annoying?"
"Yes."
I grinned. "Good."
A shout echoed across the cafeteria. Laughter followed. Someone dropped a tray. I watched Noah carefully.
He glanced up.
Just once.
Measured. Controlled.
Whatever he was looking for, he found it quickly, because he went back to his notebook like nothing had happened.
Interesting.
"You always sit where you can see everything," I said.
"Do I?"
"Yes."
"Maybe I just like the view."
"The cafeteria?" I snorted. "Doubtful."
He finally met my gaze.
"Why does this matter to you?" he asked.
I opened my mouth ,
, and realized I didn't have an answer that wouldn't sound ridiculous.
"Curiosity," I said finally. "You don't fit."
A muscle in his jaw twitched.
"That's not a crime."
"Depends on the town."
He studied me for a long moment. Then ,
"Be careful, Iris."
My smile faltered. "Is that a threat?"
"No," he said quietly. "Advice."
Noah
She was circling.
Not aggressively. Not foolishly. With patience.
That made her dangerous.
Most humans rushed toward answers, desperate to label and categorize. Iris Monroe observed first. Filed details away. Tested theories without committing to them.
If she ever stumbled onto the right question ,
I stopped that thought immediately.
She wouldn't.
I wouldn't let her.
The day passed without incident, but the air felt heavy, like pressure building before a storm. I felt it in my bones , in instincts honed over lifetimes.
Something was wrong.
I noticed it in the way birds scattered too suddenly. In the way dogs down the street barked at empty corners. In the way shadows lingered just a fraction longer than they should have.
Elias noticed too.
"Do not go out tonight," he said as we sat across from each other at the kitchen table. "Whatever you feel , it's not for you."
I set my glass down slowly. "Something's here."
"Yes."
"Is it looking for me?"
His silence was answer enough.
"I can handle it," I said.
"You can't handle attention," Elias snapped. "And this will bring it."
"I won't expose myself."
"You already are," he said sharply. "Every time you get close to her."
I stood. "She doesn't know anything."
"She doesn't need to," Elias replied. "She's observant. And observant humans have a way of ending up in the wrong place at the wrong time."
That struck deeper than he intended.
"I won't let anything happen to her," I said.
Elias's expression hardened. "You don't get to make that promise."
Iris
I stayed late after school that day.
Not because I had a reason.
Because I had a feeling.
The library was quiet, dust motes drifting lazily in the afternoon light. I sat at one of the long wooden tables, pretending to study while my eyes kept drifting toward the windows.
Toward the woods.
Blackwood had always warned its children about those trees. Stay out. Stay close. Don't wander.
I'd grown up hearing stories. Missing pets. Strange sounds. Old legends dressed up as cautionary tales.
I never believed them.
But lately…
I packed my bag and left just as the sky began to darken, clouds rolling in low and heavy. The walk home felt longer than usual. Quieter.
Too quiet.
I slowed when I reached the edge of the woods.
Something moved between the trees.
I froze.
"Hello?" I called, instantly regretting it.
No answer.
Probably a deer, I told myself. Or a raccoon.
I took a step back ,
and bumped into someone.
I gasped, spinning around.
Noah stood behind me.
"How do you do that?" I demanded.
"You weren't paying attention," he said.
My heart pounded. "I was about to say the same thing."
He followed my gaze toward the trees, his expression sharpening.
"Did you see something?" he asked.
"I thought I did," I admitted. "Probably nothing."
He didn't look convinced.
"You shouldn't be out here alone," he said.
"I live five minutes away."
"That doesn't matter."
I frowned. "You're very intense for someone who claims to just be a normal transfer student."
His mouth curved faintly. "You keep saying that like you don't believe it."
"I don't."
"Then stop asking questions you don't want answers to."
I stepped closer. "What makes you think I don't want them?"
He hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then he said, "Because you wouldn't like them."
We stood there, fog curling between us, the woods watching silently.
I shivered.
Not from cold.
From the sudden, irrational certainty that something else was listening.
Noah
I felt it then.
The shift.
A presence brushing against my senses , ancient, deliberate, testing.
Not close.
But not far enough.
I turned slightly, positioning myself between Iris and the trees without making it obvious.
"Go home," I said.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because it's getting dark."
She scoffed. "It's barely evening."
"Please," I added quietly.
That made her pause.
"Okay," she said slowly. "But you're walking with me."
I shouldn't have agreed.
I did anyway.
Halfway down her street, the pressure eased.
Whatever it was, it retreated.
For now.
When we stopped outside her house, she hesitated.
"You know," she said, "I think you're not dangerous."
I stiffened.
"I think you're just… running from something," she continued. "And you're bad at pretending you're not."
I said nothing.
She smiled softly. "See you tomorrow, Noah Vale."
I waited until she went inside before I turned back toward the woods.
My jaw tightened.
They were closer than I'd expected.
And Iris Monroe was standing directly in the middle of it all , without the faintest
🩸 END OF CHAPTER THREE 🩸