If there was one thing Higan Sinclair loved more than being revered, it was making sure he was being perceived and lately, he had grown extra performative.At first, it seemed like he was just doing his best to show off his relationship but it has been feeling like he's been putting in more effort to be seen.In the halls, you would catch him waltzing through like a foolish king surveying his false kingdom and you can always count on his entourage of beta bullies to trail behind him in varsity jackets with the pack emblem.His laughter was now too loud, his gestures more extravagant. Worse he won't stop the shows of testerone in the training grounds by the local gym I pass by on saturdays.He has been moving everywhere and the world should be grateful to experience him. The cafeteria was no exception.He stepped in with thumping boots like he owned the very floor tiles, sauntering toward the center with Becca at his side.She had been quieter, blending her presence well under his shad
HIGAN SINCLAIR’S POVHIGAN SINCLAIRI am startled awake with a shudder that vibrates through my entire body. My spine ached like I’d been yanked up by a burning silver chain and I felt just as heavy.My breath clawed at my throat. My nightshirt clung to me like a wanna-be second skin, dampened and strangling. My sheets tangled around my legs twisted like vines from some fever dream jungle I couldn’t escape.And yet, her face persistently played behind my eyelids.Harlyn Sage.Her name felt like beach sand in my mouth. Harlyn was familiar in the way scars are familiar. They remain a part of you but unwelcome.With a low growl, I pushed both hands through my hair, dragging sweat-soaked strands back until my scalp stung. I sat in the dark of my bedroom for a moment, trying to settle in the frosty stillness as the thundering of my pulse echoed between my ribs.She killed me. Not in some metaphorical, heartstring-tugging bullshit way and definitely not in some past-regret, maybe-I-shouldn’
“Harlyn, darling, everyone's here so could you get into the part where you tell us what’s going on?” said my worried mother, sitting straight on the edge of the forest green couch in the living room.My dad stood right behind her, one hand on her shoulder gently rubbing to probably ease her anxiety.They weren't the only ones and until Tyler lazily strolled into the living room with a puzzling lack of hair on his head, did I speak up. “What happened to your hair?”“Apparently I was too “attractive” to be a cook in the cafeteria so I was required to,” he let his words hang in the air as his fingers imitated a cutting scissors.“Yikes,” both the twins uttered at once before shaking their heads to themselves.“How unfortunate,” my father sarcastically muttered with a small smile that confessed he may have wanted to laugh.“We're getting sidetracked,” Ethan reeled us all back into the conversation I sent an alarming text into a group chat to call everyone for.“Right,” I scratched my thum
“Both of you, sit! Now!” The grumpy grey-haired man, Mr. Blackwood boomed as he shoved Becca and me into the chemistry lab.Our steps echoed in the near-empty room as the door shut behind us. I threw him a sharp scowl fighting every urge in me to bare my teeth at him.“You’ll all write an essay about the consequences of engaging in violent activities on school grounds, a no-claw zone,” He rambled, going on to write the topic on the whiteboard.Ignoring him, I swept my gaze across the room for where to sit, tugging my dusty bag closer to my body. My eyes met a familiar blue pair and they glared at the bemused silhouette.Side-glancing at Becca, I watched her and her calm demeanor stroll through a path to a seat. It was upsetting to see her so collected. My noses flared hot and my knuckles itched for another swing.But it wasn’t the time nor the place and no longer the way to get the answers I wanted. I inhaled and exhaled out my frustrations.“Didn't peg you for the detention type,” Kh
“Doing what?” I asked, maintaining an even tone.Becca cocked her head. “Whatever this is. I figured something was coming. You’ve been staring holes through me since the first period.”“I have questions,” I said simply.Becca hummed before cracking into a dry laugh. “Of course you do,” she muttered to herself, running her hand through her hair.I studied her. She didn't come off scared in the way I thought a traitor would. Her stance was loose, too at ease. There was tension in her shoulders but it was not from discomfort. It felt like she was holding something back, or waiting for me to make the first move.She was underestimating me. I held the realization in my palm and curved my fingers harshly into it.“I overheard you,” I started, “about a month ago. At your place.”Something gleamed across her eyes, too quick to name. “Overheard me?”“You were speaking to someone. Or something. It sounded like you were reporting on some lupomancer,” I breathed out slowly with a taunting smile k
I looked down at my fingers.The leather at the base of my palm had grown underway to glaze again, a delicate coating of frost threading its way outward like delicate veins of snow.I curled them into fists, forcing the heat to rise from someplace deeper, someplace lower. With a breath in, I made a mental order. Spark.A thin trail of warmness bloomed through my wrist and spread like honey under my skin. The cold receded, sluggish and unwilling but sure. My gloves hissed faintly, ice evaporating as mist.My wolf incited restlessly in the back of my mind. “You’re doing it again.”“I’m fine.” I quickly differed.“It doesn’t feel fine,” she insists once more.But I tell her, “You’re just not used to it.”She let out a low, mental whine in return, half-annoyed but I could feel the other half overeaten with concern. “You freeze over when you get worked up. You burn when you calm down. That’s not how it’s supposed to be.”“Says who?” I mentally replied, tugging my glove down tighter. “It wo