CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

Like Harold's last religious studies class a week ago, he was one of the first set of students to leave the lecture room. It was exactly a week ago when Harold had received the strange letter—after his class, that his life had begun to steer in the path of destruction and now, he was entirely en route his death and there was nothing he could do. 

He was going to end up like the wolf Francis had mentioned in his journal, Margaret.

As he hurried past the heated bodies of students; werewolves like him, who seemed to have forgotten all they had been taught minutes ago, he felt the weight of Prof. Travis’ dark pupils on the back of his neck; an extra weight he didn't want to carry, and that propelled him to move faster towards the exit.

He got out of Citadel J—where the class had been held, and breath out deeply, picked up his brown leather bag and hurried to his next class which happened to be the last before he had his break in the cafeteria