The truth cracks through

I could feel it gnawing at me all day—the quiet tension of being watched, of pieces that didn’t fit together no matter how hard I tried to arrange them.

It started in second period. Jaxon wasn’t in his seat. Neither was Lucas. And no one seemed to notice or care but me.

I sat through the lecture pretending to take notes, but my mind was elsewhere. He hadn’t texted. He hadn’t even glanced at me this morning when he walked past me in the hall.

It was strange that he could ignore me so easily when every time he touched me, his hands seemed to say something completely different.

By lunch, I couldn’t stand it anymore.

I found Lucas leaning against the wall just outside the cafeteria doors. He always did that—lurked just far enough from everyone else that you might not notice him if you weren’t looking. He was scrolling through his phone, head down, but his posture stiffened when I stopped in front of him.

He didn’t look up right away.

“What?” he asked, his tone casual in that way that was anything but.

I crossed my arms, heart thudding against my ribs. “Where’s Jaxon?”

Lucas’s thumb froze on his screen, then scrolled again. “Busy.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He sighed through his nose and finally glanced at me. His eyes—those same eerie, storm-dark eyes that reminded me of Jaxon’s—narrowed just slightly.

“Why do you care so much?” he said.

The question stung. But I didn’t back down.

“Because,” I said, forcing my voice to stay even, “I’m not stupid. He’s… different. You both are. You always show up at the right time, you always know things you shouldn’t, and every time I turn around, one of you is there.”

Lucas’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t speak.

“I want to know what’s going on,” I pressed, lowering my voice. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Something flickered across his face—the smallest crack in his calm. He shoved his phone into his pocket and straightened, towering over me.

“You don’t want to know,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“Yes,” I said, my fists curling at my sides, “I do.”

For a long moment, he just looked at me—really looked at me, like he was trying to decide something.

Then he leaned in, his voice so low I barely caught it.

“If you knew,” he said, his breath hot against my ear, “you’d never sleep again.”

I shivered.

But he straightened before I could press him further, stepping back into his usual easy smirk.

“You’re better off letting it go, Avery,” he said, and then he was gone, disappearing down the hall like smoke.

That night, I sat cross-legged on my bed with my laptop balanced on my knees. My fingers hovered over the keyboard as I searched local folklore—strange sightings, wolves in the woods, stories of glowing eyes, and howls on the wind.

It sounded ridiculous even as I typed it. But the more I read, the less I could look away.

The words wolf moon kept surfacing. An old story about a pack that could walk as men but hunted as beasts. A pack that chose a leader strong enough to hold back his instincts but ruthless enough to lead.

And something about it felt… right.

I stared at my screen until my eyes burned, my mind buzzing with questions that didn’t have answers yet.

The next morning, I woke up with my laptop still on my knees and my sheets tangled around me.

At school, Savannah’s minions snickered behind their hands as I walked past, but this time I didn’t flinch.

I kept my chin high and my gaze forward.

When the last bell rang, I ducked out the side door of the school, hoping for some air, and nearly ran into Lucas again.

He was waiting. Of course he was.

“Still digging, huh?” he said, his arms folded across his chest.

I swallowed. “Maybe.”

There was a long silence.

Then he shook his head, something like admiration in his voice when he muttered, “You’re more stubborn than you look.”

Before I could reply, he was already walking away.

That night, I sat in my room, restless and tense. Every little sound outside my window made my heart lurch.

The wind carried faint howls from somewhere deep in the trees—eerie and low, like they were calling to someone.

I told myself it was nothing. Just dogs, or the wind, or my imagination.

But something inside me already knew better.

The next morning, Jaxon was back in his seat.

He didn’t look at me when I walked in, but I felt his presence like static in the air—sharp, hot, and impossible to ignore.

When class ended, I lingered by my locker longer than usual.

And sure enough, when I finally turned to leave, he was there.

“Walk with me,” he said.

It wasn’t a question.

We walked in silence down the empty hall, his hand brushing mine once before he caught himself and shoved it into his pocket.

When we reached the far stairwell, he finally stopped and turned to face me.

His eyes were dark and turbulent, and for once his perfect composure was gone.

“You’ve been asking questions,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

I swallowed hard but held his gaze. “So what if I have?”

He stared at me for what felt like forever. Then he leaned in just enough that I could feel the heat of his breath on my cheek.

“Be careful,” he murmured, his voice rough.

His thumb grazed my jaw before he straightened and walked away, leaving me standing there, my knees weak, my heart pounding so hard it hurt.

That night, I couldn’t sleep.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him—the way his gaze pinned me, the way his touch burned me, the way his voice sent shivers down my spine.

Something was coming. I could feel it.

And I didn’t know if I was ready.

But I couldn’t look away now.

Not from him.

Not from the truth.

Not from the way he made me feel alive—even when he left me breathless and aching for more.