Chapter 1

There’s nothing worse than getting stuck in detention on a Friday afternoon—especially when it’s not your fault. I twist around in my seat to pin Luca Greene with a glare, promising all kinds of wrath on him. In response, he ruffles the tangled obsidian mess on his head and grins at me.

Damn him. I bare my teeth and flip him off.

“Hailey Woods,” Mrs. Whit barks. “You have earned yourself another Friday afternoon with me.”

I groan, slumping back in my seat, but not before catching one last glimpse of Luca’s infuriating, punchable grin. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Whit,” I mutter, gripping the sides of my desk, its surface littered with cursive doodles. Most of them are mine—cute animals and blossoming flowers sketched in colored ink, an attempt to pass the time in the endless slog of boredom.

Tilting my head up, I offer Mrs. Whit my best dejected look, a long chestnut curl falling into my face and tickling my nose. I blow it away, my carefully constructed façade faltering for a split second before I sweep my hair back and resume the act. With my big honey-brown eyes, I know I’m good at pulling it off.

It’s a pity that the one teacher immune to it happens to be the one hosting detention today.

Mrs. Whit has a stern, pinched expression, her russet-painted lips set in a tight line as she looks at me through her oversized glasses.

“Go on, and we can make it every Friday for the next month,” she continues. “You’ve gotten away with your nonsense for way too long.”

I bite back the retort bubbling in my throat and force a smile instead. “It wasn’t on purpose. I’ve had a bad day.”

Mrs. Whit arches an eyebrow, her lips curling into a sneer. “Haven’t we all?”

“It’s my birthday today, and my parents forgot,” I say, the words spilling out before I can stop them. That part, at least, is true.

Her eyebrows rise in surprise. “As much as that sucks, and as much as I empathize with your unfortunate circumstance, I’m not responsible for your happiness, Miss Woods. Nor is it in my control how you decide to act during class and what you choose to do with the school rules. What counts for one student counts for everyone else, whether it’s their birthday or not.”

I sigh, leaning back in my seat. “I wasn’t looking for a way out of detention,” I lie. “Just wanted you to know I’ve had a bad day.”

Luca snorts a laugh from his desk, and my hand curls into a fist. I am so going to ruin him. It’s his fault I’m in detention in the first place. I was minding my own business during English when he, for no reason, decided to stop by my table and gawk at me like some kind of freak.

No, seriously.

He didn’t say anything—just stood there, staring, like he was possessed or something. And then, out of nowhere, he grabbed my arm, dragged me close, and bit me.

He bit me!

I didn’t provoke him. I’ve barely spoken a word to him before today, and somehow I’m the one in trouble for defending myself? How is that fair? Isn’t the school supposed to protect students from being harassed?

Ugh.

Kelsey, my nemesis since kindergarten, shoots me a smirk. Unlike me—who has never had detention before in my life—her favorite pastime is anything that stirs up trouble for others. I was hoping to evade her this session, but of course, luck isn’t in my favor today.

The second Mrs. Whit glances down at her trashy romance novel; Kelsey tosses a crumpled piece of paper at me. I pick up the note and straighten it.

Guess whose mommy I saw getting into the car of a married man?

I sigh and grab my pen. I should’ve seen that one coming. Mom has a drinking problem—and an even bigger problem when it comes to men. Dad’s just as bad. He couldn’t care less what she’s up to, so long as she stays out of his way.

And they never fight, which sounds like a good thing on the surface. But in reality? It’s not. The lack of care extends far beyond just their relationship. They don’t care if I’m late, if I skip dinner, or if I’m stuck in detention. Mom will sign my detention slip without a second thought while chatting on the phone with her bestie, and Dad will just grunt in response.

I press the tip of the pen to the paper and begin writing: I wonder what it’s like to be so bored that you rival for attention by making up stories. Your life must really suck.

I peer over my shoulder to pin Luca with a warning look before passing the note back to Kelsey. If he’s planning to rat me out, I need to ensure he understands he’s asking for trouble.

I’m done being a pushover.

I still can’t figure out what provoked him to get physical like that with me. Whatever stupid excuse he has—or doesn’t have—I’m going to get my revenge. Somehow.

Before I can dwell on it any further, a paper ball smacks me on the forehead. Kelsey barely stifles a laugh, her hand pressed to her mouth.

Mrs. Whit’s eyes flick up, pinning Kelsey with a glare before her eyes narrow back to her book.

I shoot Kelsey a scowl, unwrap the paper ball, and read the note: My life is perfect, thank you very much. As for yours—your mommy going home with other students’ married parents is disgusting. She must be getting paid much less than your basic hooker, considering the state of your trashy clothes. FYI: Better watch your back. I’ve got a lovely surprise in store for you.

I can’t hold back a snort as I write: Knock yourself out.

I toss the note back at her.

What I don’t write about is that I don’t care about my social standing. I don’t have a social status in this school, period. Kelsey has already made sure of that. I don’t have any friends here, and I don’t have anything else to lose. Well, except for my dignity, but she doesn’t need to know that.

This time, as Kelsey turns, I lift my hands to catch the ball of paper. However, her face contorts in horror instead. “Holy crap,” she shouts, drawing the attention of the entire room, including Mrs. Whit, whose mouth drops open.

“What?” I blink.

“Your eyes. Face—neck. Freak!” Kelsey lifts a trembling hand and points at me. “You’re turning into a freak!”

Mrs. Whit blanches. “Oh my.”

I frown, touching the spot on the side of my neck where Luca bit me. It’s hot and tender. “What?” I repeat, unable to form a more sensible, coherent comeback.

“Woods is turning into a werewolf! Oooh!” Pete, from the back of the room, calls out.

“Her eyes are glowing!” someone else chimes in.

The world around me swirls in a haze of disbelief and panic. No. No. No!

I plunge my hand into my backpack, feeling for my compact mirror. When I find it, I pull it out and flip it open. I glance at myself in the mirror, feeling like the floor is about to give way beneath me.

My eyes are glowing. A horrendous, unearthly blue has taken over the natural browns of my irises. My neck, where Luca bit me, is now marred with an ugly crescent moon tattoo that keeps pulsing with a sapphire gleam as inky veins creep across my skin.

I have the mark of the wolf.

This can’t be happening.

Frantic, I try to wipe the mark away, but it won’t budge. The werewolves call it “the gift of Diana,” but we regular people know it for what it really is: the end.

It’s my end.

When I finally manage to compose myself, I find my nemesis staring at me as if I’m a monster. The room has fallen silent to the point where you could hear specks of dust hitting the table. Maybe it’s my imagination?

My eyes flick toward the golden specks illuminated by the sunlight. Each time a tiny particle bounces against my desk, I can hear it.

What. The. Heck.

There’s an audible intake of breaths when I spring to my feet, my legs quivering. I half-stumble toward Luca’s desk. “What did you do to me?”

He watches me impassively. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“This,” I snap, lowering myself and slanting my neck toward his face, pointing at my eyes.

“Whoa,” he leans back. “That’s one intense tattoo you’ve got there. Nice contacts, too.”

I scowl, straightening up. “Don’t play dumb. It wasn’t there earlier. It showed up right after you practically manhandled me in English. You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

He shrugs. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Get rid of it. Now.” I grab his arm. “And don’t pretend like you don’t know. Everyone knows about them. Everyone knows what happens when…” I suck in a sharp breath, struggling for words. “Everyone knows what happens when you get… marked.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Luca states, pulling his arm out of my grip. “I can’t do anything about that. You’ve been chosen, Hailstorm.”

“Stop calling me that,” I snarl. “And don’t give me that ‘chosen’ crap. Undo this, now.”

“I can’t,” he shrugs again. “The spell was sealed by our great ancestors.”

“Ancestors?” My brows furrow, and I shake my head. “What crap are you even babbling about? Whatever, I don’t care. Get rid of this ugly thing on my neck!”

“Nope, that’s all I’ve got, Hailstorm.” He casually pushes back his chair and starts gathering his things. He doesn’t say anything until he’s slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Would you look at that?”

I turn to see what he’s referring to—the clock, I think. It’s a quarter past four.

“Looks like detention is over,” he smirks, patting my shoulder. “The Academia of the Moon is calling your name, little pup.”

Just like that, he spins around and walks out of the classroom.

Mrs. Whit is the first to break the earsplitting silence. “Hailey,” she croaks. “Would you like me to phone your parents?”

I swallow down the ginormous knot forming in my throat and shake my head. “No,” is all I can get out.

Ignoring the stares, I rush to my desk and gather my belongings with wobbly hands. I drop my pencil case. Twice. The third time I try to shove it into my backpack, I drop it again.

This time, I don’t bother with it. I leave it there, zip my backpack shut, and fling it over my shoulder.

“Hey, wait up! I want to see you turn into a wolf!” Kelsey calls after me, but I keep running. I don’t stop until I lock myself inside a cubicle in the girls’ bathroom and burst into sobs.

I try to muffle them with my hands, but anyone can still hear my cries.