Mag-log inDelaneyKellan made it to my dorm in under ten minutes. I knew because I checked, twice, and not because I was waiting for him. Obviously.I was standing in the hallway with my arms crossed when he came around the corner, moving fast enough that two girls stepped out of his way without being asked.His eyes found me immediately, then the open dorm room behind me, and his expression changed. It wasn’t dramatic, because Kellan didn’t do dramatic, but his jaw tightened and his shoulders went rigid, and whatever softness usually appeared when he looked at me disappeared.“Are you hurt?”“No.”“Did you see anyone?”“No.”“Did you touch anything?”I blinked. “Hello to you too.”“Delaney.”“I’m fine.”“That wasn’t what I asked.”I sighed. “I touched my own stuff because I didn’t realize someone had broken in until I noticed things were moved.”His mouth flattened. “Okay.”That was all he said. Then he walked past me into the room, and I followed.“You know, normally people ask permission bef
DelaneyI almost canceled the appointment.Not because I suddenly thought nothing was wrong with me. Quite the opposite. There was clearly something very fucking wrong with me.But after everything that happened yesterday, sitting in a brightly lit campus health center and explaining that I could hear conversations through walls, see in the dark, heal in under an hour, and apparently blow out windows with my emotions felt like a direct path to a psychiatric evaluation.Still, I went, because seven cryptic assholes refusing to tell me the truth did not qualify as medical care.The nurse called my name at nine fourteen. “Delaney Mercer?”I stood, and she smiled and led me down a hallway that smelled of rubbing alcohol and burnt coffee. “Go ahead and step on the scale.”Easy enough. Then came blood pressure, pulse, and temperature, and she stared at the screen. Then she checked it again, and I noticed.“What?”“Nothing.”I almost laughed. Apparently that word had infected the entire camp
DelaneyNobody spoke until we were three blocks away from campus. Not me. Not Kellan. Not Callan. Not Harper. The silence inside Darian’s SUV was so thick I could practically feel it pressing against my skin.I sat in the back between Harper and Naomi with my arms crossed tightly over my chest. Kellan was in the passenger seat. Callan sat beside Darian. Jett and Rhys had taken another car. Apparently, getting me away from campus had required an entire fucking evacuation plan.I hated that. I hated how organized they were. I hated how quickly they had moved when everything went wrong. And I hated most of all that none of them had looked surprised. Scared, yes. Concerned, definitely. But surprised? No.I looked down at my forearm. The cut from the shattered glass was nearly gone. All that remained was a thin pink line. My stomach turned.Harper noticed me staring at it. Her hand shifted toward mine, and I moved away. She stopped. That hurt expression crossed her face again, and I looked
DelaneyThe first thing to go was the lights.One second, the student center was bright and loud and full of people pretending not to stare. The next, darkness. Complete. Absolute. Someone screamed. A chair scraped violently across the floor. Then the emergency lights flashed red along the walls.My breathing stopped. Not because I couldn’t see. That was the problem. I could. Perfectly. Every table. Every face. Every wide pair of eyes turning toward the ceiling, toward the café, toward me.“Delaney.”Harper’s voice cut through the noise. I heard her like she was standing inside my head. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Something inside me had gone horribly, horribly still.Camille backed away. “What the hell?”The glass beside her trembled. Then another. Then every drinking glass on the nearest three tables started rattling against the tabletops.“What is happening?”“Earthquake?”“No, I don’t feel anything.”A bottle toppled over. Then another. Silverware vibrated against plastic trays. My
DelaneyBy Monday afternoon, I was beginning to understand why people committed murder.Not that I was planning one. Obviously. But hypothetically? I got it.The day had started badly. Sloane finally came stumbling into our room around three in the morning, drunk enough to trip over her own laundry basket and then blame me for leaving it there. It was her laundry basket. On her side of the room. Somehow, still my fault.I slept through my alarm, Professor Whitmore sprang a surprise quiz on us, and I spilled coffee down the front of my shirt before I’d even found my seat.And now everyone in my sociology class kept looking at me.Not normal looking. Whispering looking. The kind where someone glanced my way, turned to their friend, and murmured behind a hand like we were twelve.I ignored it for ten minutes. Then twenty. By the time class ended, I’d counted eleven people.Eleven.I shoved my notebook into my backpack. Whatever. Maybe I had something on my face. Maybe someone had posted
DelaneyI woke up at six seventeen in the morning because someone slammed a car door outside.That wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was that I heard it from the third floor. Clearly. Like the damn thing had happened beside my bed.My eyes opened immediately. For several seconds, I lay perfectly still beneath the blankets. Then I groaned.“Not this shit again.”Sloane wasn’t in bed. Apparently, she’d never come home. Not that I was surprised.I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. Last night replayed almost instantly. Callan. Dinner. The almost kiss. The growl. Black fur between the trees.Then Kellan showing up at my dorm demanding answers like some kind of leather jacket wearing FBI agent.And the part that bothered me most? He’d believed me. No hesitation. No maybe you imagined it. No you’ve been under a lot of stress. He’d asked what color its eyes were. Because apparently, that was a perfectly reasonable question to ask after someone claimed they’d seen a giant wolf foll







