SHADOWS AT DAWN

Alina Harper didn’t sleep that night. She told herself it was because of nerves, because college life was overwhelming, or maybe because of the looming pile of unread textbooks on her desk. But deep down, she knew it had more to do with Rhett Blackwood.

Not the guy everyone gawked at across campus, not the hockey captain whose name sparked rumors and whispered awe, but him—the one she’d just seen with her own eyes change, just slightly, in ways that didn’t make sense.

She kept replaying the growl, the way his eyes had shifted, the tension in his jaw. Wolves didn’t belong in her world. Yet somehow, he did. And somehow, she wanted to understand.

By morning, she was exhausted but determined. Classes waited. And so did Rhett.

The campus was quiet as she walked toward the gym, the early sun glinting off the modern glass buildings. Her backpack felt heavier than usual, though she wasn’t carrying anything different. Maybe it was the weight of knowing the world wasn’t as normal as she had assumed.

“Harper.”

She froze. That voice—smooth, commanding, familiar—cut through the morning air like a knife.

Rhett Blackwood stepped out from the shadows of the gym’s entrance, hockey stick slung casually over his shoulder. The sunlight caught his hair, dark and untamed, and his eyes held that same unnerving intensity.

“You’re early,” he said, eyebrows arched. “Or are you stalking me now?”

“Very funny,” she replied, crossing her arms. Her pulse beat faster than it should. Something about him—dangerous, magnetic, alive—made it impossible to stay calm.

“I’m serious,” he said, stepping closer. His tone dropped an octave, becoming darker, more insistent. “Last night… what you saw? You don’t talk about it. Ever. Do you understand?”

Alina hesitated. Her instinct screamed to argue, to demand answers. But something about the way he stood, every muscle coiled like a predator ready to strike, made her think better of it.

“Fine,” she said finally. “I won’t say a word. But you owe me an explanation someday.”

His lips twitched in a humorless smirk. “Maybe someday. Or maybe not. Depends on you.”

Later that morning, in a crowded lecture hall, Alina tried to focus on her professor’s droning introduction to Art History 101. But her mind kept drifting back to Rhett. The growl. The way he had seemed almost… inhuman. And the way he looked at her.

It was wrong. Totally wrong.

Her day continued in a haze of introductions, campus maps, and group assignments, until a sudden, sharp scream echoed from outside the main quad.

Alina bolted toward the sound, heart hammering, only to see a small crowd gathered near the fountain. A freshman girl was sprawled on the ground, clutching her leg, her face pale and terrified.

“What happened?” Alina asked, pushing through the cluster of students.

“She—she says she was attacked,” someone muttered. “By a… dog? But it didn’t look like a dog.”

Alina froze. Her pulse skipped.

A dog—or something like one—had attacked in broad daylight? And her mind immediately jumped to the growl from last night.

Then, from the shadows of the trees lining the quad, a figure stepped forward, silent and deliberate. The crowd parted instinctively.

Rhett.

Alina felt her stomach twist. His eyes scanned the perimeter, dark and calculating. The faint hint of fur along his jawline glimmered in the sunlight, subtle, almost imperceptible, but unmistakable.

The girl on the ground whimpered, and Rhett moved closer, his presence sharp, commanding. He knelt beside her with startling gentleness, examining the bite marks—or were they scratches?—on her leg.

“This wasn’t a normal animal,” he said quietly, voice low enough that only Alina could hear. His eyes flicked toward her, brief and intense. See? I told you.

She swallowed hard, knowing she had just stepped further into a world she wasn’t ready for.

Then, without warning, Rhett’s attention snapped toward the treeline. His body stiffened, every muscle coiled. Alina followed his gaze. A shadowy figure, faster than humanly possible, slinked between the trees. Its movements were fluid, predatory.

Rhett’s expression darkened. “Get back,” he commanded, voice sharp. “Everyone—now.”

The crowd scattered, leaving Alina frozen in place. Her instincts screamed at her to run, but a strange, stubborn part of her held firm.

The shadow leapt from the trees. It was a creature, tall, lean, and humanoid—but wrong. Its teeth glinted in the sunlight, elongated and sharp. Its eyes glowed faintly red.

Alina stumbled backward, horror and awe warring inside her.

Without hesitation, Rhett transformed. It was instantaneous—a blur of motion and shadow. His human form stretched, grew, and shifted, fur sprouting along his arms, his teeth sharpening, claws extending. The world seemed to tilt as he became something fierce, majestic, terrifying.

The shadow creature froze, recognizing a rival predator. Then it lunged.

Rhett met it midair, a collision of claws, strength, and primal fury. The sound of the impact echoed across the quad, a horrifying, bone-chilling sound that made Alina’s knees buckle.

She wanted to scream, to turn and run, but her eyes couldn’t leave him. He was everything dangerous, everything mesmerizing—and everything she could not stop watching.

And then, with a final, brutal strike, the shadow creature fell. It was gone. Just like that.

Rhett reverted to human form, breathing heavily, but still sharp, still dangerous. His dark eyes found Alina’s across the distance, and for the first time, there was no smirk, no charm—only something raw, intense, and entirely unyielding.

“You’re lucky,” he said quietly, voice low. “And I’m not talking about surviving. I mean… you didn’t get involved. Not fully.”

Alina’s hands shook. “I—what just happened? Who was that? What are you?”

Rhett’s gaze softened just slightly, almost imperceptibly. “I told you… someday you might get answers. But today, you stay alive. That’s your job. And maybe… pretend we’re just classmates. Understand?”

Alina’s lips parted. “Pretend?”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “For now. Because if anyone knew what I really am… you wouldn’t survive long.”

The warning was clear. The danger real. And yet, inexplicably, Alina felt a pull she couldn’t explain. A mix of fear, fascination, and something that felt dangerously like desire.

And as he walked away, leaving her trembling and half-dazed in the middle of the quad, she realized—she didn’t want to let him go.

Because something told her, with absolute certainty, that her life had just been rewritten.