Chapter 2: The Golden Boy’s Curse

Raven’s POV

I woke up to the sound of a pen tapping against paper and a dull ache in my head. The room was so bright I winced before my eyes adjusted. I sat up too fast and it felt like the room was spinning.

“Don’t. You need to lie down.”

The voice came from the corner. I turned my head. The blond boy from the crash sat in a chair, long legs stretched out, a notebook balanced on his knee. His Ridgeway hockey jacket was still on.

“You again,” I muttered.

“Me again,” he said. He set his pen down and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You passed out and I brought you here. You’ve been out for a few hours.”

I rubbed my face. “Where’s here?”

“Ridgeway campus infirmary.”

I shoved the blanket aside and swung my legs to the floor. “I need my bike.”

“Your bike’s wrecked.” His tone was calm, but his blue eyes pinned me in place. “I’ve got a mechanic looking at it.”

“I’m not worried.” I stood anyway.

He tilted his head, studying me. “That’s a lot of confidence. But you still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

“Not your business.”

Instead of pushing, he rose to his full height, taller than I wanted him to be, and came closer. “If anyone sees you wandering around, they’ll start asking questions.”

“Let them.”

“You don’t get it.” His voice dropped lower. “This place isn’t like other schools. You don’t just walk in.”

My pulse kicked. “And you think I don’t know that?”

Something flickered across his face. He didn’t back down. “So what do you want me to do? Pretend I didn’t see you crash out of nowhere?”

“That’d be nice.”

Instead of leaving it there, he stepped close until the space between us thinned. “My wolf reacted when I saw you.”

I stiffened. “Not my problem.”

“Maybe not.” His eyes searched mine. “But the elders will make it one if they find out. So I told them you’re a transfer student.”

My mouth opened, then shut. “You what?”

“You’re already on the books and I figured it’s safer this way,” his shoulders lifted like it was nothing. “There’s something about you I need to figure out, and you’re not leaving my sight until I do. Someone will bring your uniform to your dorm. Try not to draw attention before then.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough,” his gaze softened just slightly. “And I know my wolf’s been restless since you showed up.”

I shoved my jacket on. “I’ll play your game, but I don’t owe you anything. Stay away.”

His lips curved like he found me amusing. “I wouldn't dream of it, mystery girl. You didn’t even ask my name.”

“Why would I?” I snapped, and pushed out of the infirmary before he could answer.

***

The snow had thinned by the time I slipped into Ridgeway’s library. The library was warmer than outside, but the weight of stares followed me through the doors. 

I told myself I was looking for records and not hiding. The place smelled like polished wood and old paper with warm light spilling across the rows of shelves.

Whoever he was, whatever he thought this was, I wasn’t planning to stick around long enough to let him decide my future.

I wandered toward the back section, running my fingers along the spines.

A chair scraped softly and I turned.

A boy sat at a table with a book open in front of him. He had black hair that fell into his sharp brown eyes, nothing like the golden boy who had taken me to the infirmary. 

This one studied me like he already knew me.

“You’re new.”

I frowned. “And you’re nosy.”

His mouth twitched, almost a smile. He closed the book carefully. “My name’s Luca.”

“Raven.”

“I know.”

My brow arched. “How?”

“People talk. And you don’t walk like a freshman.” His eyes stayed on me. “You’ve got history. Ridgeway loves a mystery transfer with baggage.”

Unease crawled through me. “Do you read people for fun?”

“For survival.” He shrugged. “Some of us pay attention.”

I grabbed a book just to have something in my hands. When I looked back, he was still watching. I left before he could say more.

I found my way to the parking lot outside, it smelled like oil and ice. My bike waited for me, patched up, scarred like me. I touched the frame, and smiled.

“Not bad form.”

I looked up, a tall guy leaned against his own motorcycle, tattoos wrapping his arms. Dark skin, hood shadowing his face. 

“You’ve got balance,” he said. “Most rookies don’t.”

“Do I know you?”

“Not yet.” He pushed off the bike, moving with the ease of someone used to owning space. 

“Dante. Defenseman for the Ice Fangs.”

“Congrats.” I turned back to my bike. “Didn’t ask.”

He chuckled. “You’re feisty. I like that.”

“I’m not here to be liked.”

“Good,” he half laughed . “That makes two of us.”

I swung onto my bike, fingers brushing the throttle. “If you’re done staring…”

“Just saying,” he drawled. “You and I should ride sometime. Unless you’re scared.”

“Try me.”

He laughed, like I’d passed some test, then swung onto his own bike. The engine rumbled deep as he revved it once.

“See you around, transfer.” Then he shot out of the lot.

I surveyed the surroundings and told myself it was safe, my mother was right. Then it hit me, a prickle went down my spine. Only one person gave me that chills. Oh no…

I froze then slowly I turned. I didn’t see anything or anyone.

I exhaled deeply and took a step forward. And there he was.

Leaning against the rink entrance like he owned it. Broad shoulders, damp blond hair, green eyes that had threatened me.

Axel.

His smile was slow, cruel, like he’d been waiting.

“Miss me, little wolf?”