Chapter 2

Rainey's POV

I tried to stand up straight, to pull my coffee-stained sweater back into place, but my hands were shaking too badly. The adrenaline was wearing off, and all I felt was exhausted and dirty and grateful and terrified all at once.

"Thank you," I started to say, but he was already walking past me like I didn't exist.

"Wait." The word came out sharper than I intended.

He stopped and turned, and I got my first real look at him. Sandy brown hair fell across his forehead beneath the brim of his cap, and his eyes were this impossible shade of green-gold that seemed to catch the filtered sunlight. There was something predatory about the way he looked at me, like he was seeing more than I wanted him to see.

"Thank you," I said again, softer this time.

"Just 'thank you'?" He took another drag from his cigarette, and the corner of his mouth curved into something that might have been a smile. "That's it? No reward for saving your ass?"

The way he said it made my skin crawl. I backed up a step, then another. "I don't have any money, if that's what you're asking."

"Money?" He laughed, and it wasn't a nice sound. "What makes you think I want your money, little girl?"

He moved closer, and I pressed my back against the rough bark of a pine tree. He was tall—really tall—and the way he looked down at me made me feel like prey.

"What do you want then?" I whispered.

"That depends." He braced one hand against the tree beside my head, leaning in close enough that I could smell cigarettes and something else, something wild and outdoorsy. "What are you willing to give?"

Every instinct I had was screaming at me to run. This guy had just saved me from Sarah and her goons, but something about him felt dangerous in a completely different way. Like I'd jumped out of the frying pan and straight into the fire.

"I have to go," I said, trying to duck under his arm.

He moved to block me, and suddenly I was trapped between his body and the tree. "Answer the question."

"Let me go." My voice came out smaller than I wanted, but I was scared. More scared than I'd been even with Sarah, because at least I knew what she wanted from me. This guy was a complete unknown.

"Or what?" He tilted his head, studying me like I was some kind of interesting specimen. "You'll scream again? We both know how well that worked out for you."

That's when something inside me snapped for the second time that afternoon. My hands came up and shoved against his chest as hard as I could.

He stumbled backward, clearly not expecting the sudden resistance, and I bolted. My backpack bounced against my spine as I ran toward the school, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might explode.

Behind me, I heard him call out, "That's more like it."

Sunny's POV

I crushed the cigarette under my boot and watched her disappear into the main building, my heart still racing from the encounter. What the hell was wrong with me? I'd gone from wanting to help her to practically cornering her against a tree like some kind of predator.

Because you are one, the voice in my head whispered. Whether you like it or not.

I shoved my hands deeper into my hoodie pockets and started walking toward the school.

It had started three months ago—the changes. The enhanced hearing that let me pick up conversations from across the cafeteria. The night vision that turned darkness into crystal clarity. The way I could smell emotions like fear and anger rolling off people in waves. And the worst part? The times when I'd lose control completely, when something primal would take over and I'd black out, only to wake up hours later in the forest with no memory of how I got there.

My family had always been different. Dad's side carried the bloodline, but nobody talked about it. "You'll understand when you're older," they'd always said. Well, I was older now, and understanding sucked ass.

Most wolves didn't manifest until their early twenties. Lucky me—I got to be a statistical anomaly, triggering at eighteen during my senior year. Perfect fucking timing.

That's why I was here in Beacon Hills instead of finishing up at my old school in California. Dad thought a change of scenery might help me "adjust." What she really meant was that she was terrified I'd hurt someone and expose our family's secret. Werewolves had stayed hidden for centuries by being careful, by learning control before they could do any real damage.

I was failing spectacularly at both.

Twenty minutes later, I was standing in the main office of Beacon Hills High School, staring at a woman whose nameplate read "Mrs. Patterson, Registrar."

"So you want to transfer here?" she asked, looking me up and down with obvious skepticism. "In the middle of spring semester? Most students are focused on graduation planning and college applications at this point."

"I'm focused on those things too," I said, handing over the paperwork my Dad had overnighted from California. "I just need a fresh start."

She flipped through the transcripts, her eyebrows rising slightly. "These grades are... impressive. And your SAT scores..." She looked up at me again, this time with something closer to respect. "Any particular reason you chose Beacon Hills?"

Because my family thinks small-town life will help me not accidentally murder anyone while I figure out how to control my lycanthropy.

"My family has connections here," I said instead. "It seemed like a good fit."

Mrs. Patterson nodded and started typing something into her computer. "Well, Mr. Hayes, I think we can accommodate you. You'll start Monday morning. I'll have your schedule ready by then."

"Actually," I said, "I was hoping to start tomorrow. I'd rather get settled in as quickly as possible."

She blinked. "Tomorrow's Friday. That's... unusual."

"I know. But I'd prefer not to wait over the weekend."

Something in my tone must have convinced her, because she nodded and went back to her computer. "Alright then. Let me print out a temporary schedule for you."

As the printer hummed to life, I found myself thinking about the girl I just met again.

The printer finished, and Mrs. Patterson handed me a sheet of paper. "Welcome to Beacon Hills High School, Mr. Hayes. I hope you find what you're looking for here."

So do I, I thought, folding the schedule and stuffing it into my back pocket.