Wolf Eyes

Selena

I didn’t plan to skip class.

I really didn’t.

But my leg wouldn’t stop bouncing and the teacher’s voice sounded like a mosquito under water and every few seconds I felt my phone vibrate even though it wasn’t and I couldn’t stop staring at the window like he’d walk past it.

And then he did.

Dominic.

Dark hoodie, hood up, head down. Walking across the field like he didn’t exist. Not rushing. Just moving. Like the world didn’t touch him.

I stared. My breath caught like it didn’t know how to go in anymore.

He wasn’t going to class.

I stood up. Didn’t even ask. Just mumbled something about cramps and left. Nobody noticed. Or if they did, I didn’t care.

The hallway was colder than usual. Or maybe I was just sweating.

Outside, the grass was still wet from morning dew. I stepped through it, not even caring my shoes soaked through. Just kept following him. Quiet. Careful.

He pushed open the side door to the hockey building. Slipped in without looking back.

I hesitated.

Then followed.

The locker room lights were flickering. That weird buzzing sound overhead made everything feel like a horror movie. Cold metal. Stained floors. Jerseys hung like ghost skins on hooks.

I heard it before I saw him.

A crash.

Then another.

Then a growl.

Not a throat growl. Not a pissed-off guy kind. Something… lower. Deeper. Like something trapped under his ribs trying to claw out.

My heart stuttered.

I peeked around the lockers.

He stood there, shirt off, fists bloody, knuckles torn, breathing heavy. His chest rose and fell like a storm lived inside it.

I didn’t breathe.

His back muscles twisted like something inside him wanted to rip out. His spine arched. His shoulder blades shifted. Popped.

And then I saw it.

His eyes.

Glowing.

Not bright. Not movie-glow. Just this… eerie yellow shine, like animal eyes in the dark.

I gasped.

He turned fast. Too fast.

"Selena?"

His voice was rough. Not like before. Like gravel soaked in something wild.

I ran.

"Selena!" he called out behind me.

My legs barely worked. My knees felt like water. I pushed through the door and hit the cold hallway, shoes slipping on the tile.

He caught me before I hit the stairs.

"Wait. Wait. Please."

His hands on my arms. Hot. Shaking. He wasn’t cold at all. He felt like fire pressed against skin.

"Let me go," I snapped, trying to pull back.

"I didn’t mean for you to see that," he said. His breath hitched. "I lost control."

"You think?" I spit, heart banging. "Your freaking eyes—your back—what the hell was that?"

He didn’t answer.

"Say something," I snapped. "Lie. Deny it. Give me something to work with."

He stared at me. His hands loosened.

"I told you," he whispered. "I’m not human."

"I thought maybe that was a metaphor!" I cried. "Not… this. Not whatever just happened in there."

His jaw locked. He looked down, ashamed or angry or both.

"I felt it," I said, voice lower now. "When I walked in. Something—pulling."

"Because you're remembering," he said. "Little by little. Every time we get close, it unlocks something."

"That’s not fair."

"I know."

I pulled away from him and backed up. My hand smacked into the wall. I winced.

His eyes were still glowing. Not bright, but not normal either.

"They said you were dangerous," I whispered. "Whoever texted me… they weren’t lying, were they?"

His lips parted. He looked like he wanted to argue. Then he didn’t.

"I’ve hurt people before," he said. "Not on purpose. Not always. But… yeah. I’ve been dangerous."

My mouth opened but no words came out.

"Do you want me to leave you alone?" he asked.

"I don’t know."

We just stood there.

And then it hit me.

Not a thought.

A wave.

A feeling. Hot and cold at the same time. Like the air twisted. My knees buckled and I dropped.

"Selena?"

His voice echoed wrong. Like it wasn’t real anymore.

The hallway blurred. My vision bled colors.

Then it wasn’t the hallway.

I was somewhere else.

Stone walls. Torches. Screaming.

My hands were bound in front of me with rope that burned. My knees were raw. I was kneeling.

"No!" my voice cried, but it wasn’t my voice. It was hers. Mine. Someone. Me.

I looked up.

A platform. A boy. Chained. Shirtless. Covered in blood and claw marks.

Dominic.

He looked younger. His hair longer. Wild.

A man held a spear near his chest.

"They said you were a beast!" someone yelled.

"No!" I—she—screamed. "He’s not!"

A woman grabbed my arm. Pale hair. Cold smile.

Glendale.

She whispered into my ear, "You don’t get to love him this time either."

I screamed.

I woke up on the floor.

My throat hurt like I’d been shouting. My hands were red. I’d been clawing at something. Dominic held me. Arms around me tight like he was scared I’d fall through the ground.

"You were shaking," he said. "You weren’t breathing."

I couldn’t speak.

"Selena?"

"I saw her," I choked. "Me. You. Chains. Blood. Glendale was there."

His eyes shut tight.

"It’s starting," he muttered.

"What is?"

"The cycle."

Later that night, I sat on the couch. Blanket wrapped around me. Sweat sticking to the back of my neck. The lights were off. I didn’t turn them on.

The house felt still. Quiet like it was holding its breath.

Glendale came in late. I didn’t hear her at first. The door creaked. I looked over my shoulder.

She froze when she saw me awake.

"You’re up."

"Couldn’t sleep."

She dropped her bag on the floor. Her boots thudded heavy against the tile. She walked like she didn’t want to be heard but couldn’t help it.

"You look like crap," she muttered.

"Thanks."

She walked toward the kitchen. Opened the fridge. Closed it. Didn’t take anything.

"You okay?" she asked.

I nodded. Lied.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

She turned like she was leaving. I looked down.

Then I saw it.

Her door was open just a crack.

Inside, under her bed—barely visible—a thick old book. Red cover. Frayed edges. It glowed for a second. Faint but real.

I stood.

"Hey," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. "What’s that?"

She froze.

"What’s what?"

"Under your bed. That book."

Her head tilted, eyes sharp. Not like before. Not worried. Watching.

"Don’t go through my stuff, Selena."

"I didn’t. I just saw it."

"Then stop looking."

My lips pressed together.

"I’m serious," she said, stepping forward. "Some things you don’t want answers to."

"Like what?"

She didn’t answer.

Just turned and walked into her room.

The door shut.

Locked.

I stood there in the dark. My hands clenched.

That glow. That book. The dream. The chains. The text. His eyes.

It was all connected.

I wasn’t just losing my mind.

Something was waking up.

And whatever it was?

It was old.

And angry.