Chapter 7

Jerry’s POV

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“Jerry, baby, don’t leave me,” Mom said, her voice cracking as she gripped my hand tight, sitting on my bed’s edge. Her eyes were puffy, tears spilling down her cheeks, her hair a tangled mess like she’d cried all night.

I blinked, my throat raw, barely able to talk. “I’m here, Mom,” I croaked, my head pounding like a drum. The room smelled of lavender and salts, thick with fear and love. My body felt heavy, stuck between a dream and real life, the memory of blood and those crimson eyes—Vasilias—burning in my skull. My chest ached, like something was trying to claw out.

“Levin, how could you let this happen?” Mom sobbed, her voice sharp as she turned to Dad, who’d just walked in.

Dad looked too calm, his shirt clean, hair slicked back, like he hadn’t pulled me from the woods half-dead. “He’s awake. He’s fine,” he said, his eyes locking on me, sharp and unblinking, like he saw something I didn’t.

My stomach twisted. His voice was too steady, like last night was nothing. I wanted to ask—did I hurt someone? Was it my fault? But my throat wouldn’t let the words out, and fear kept them locked inside.

Dad stepped closer, his hand on my forehead, and just like that, the pain melted away. “Stand up,” he said, soft but firm, like he knew I could.

Mom jumped up, her body stiff. “Levin, this is crazy! He needs rest, not—” she started, her voice shaking with anger.

“He’ll be fine,” Dad cut in, his tone heavy, making the air feel thick. “This is his training.”

“Training?” Mom’s voice broke, full of fury. “He’s a kid, not a soldier!”

Dad ignored her, his eyes still on me. “Get dressed, Jerry. You’re going to school.”

“What?” I rasped, my voice weak. School? After last night’s mess?

“Go eat and get ready. Crescent High starts today,” he said, one hand in his pocket, calm as ever.

Mom stepped in front of him, arms out like she could stop him. “No way. He barely survived last night. What if—”

“He has to balance both worlds,” Dad said, his voice flat but sure. “Supernatural and human. He’s a werewolf, Debby. Stronger than you think.”

Their voices clashed, loud and sharp, like thunder hitting lightning. My head spun with flashes—the hunters’ scared eyes, blood on my claws, that wolf’s voice growling Vasilias. I did that, didn’t I? Guilt and fear choked me, mixing with the dreams, the whispers, their fighting. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Stop!” I yelled, my voice breaking. “Please…”

The room went dead quiet, everyone shocked, even me. Did I really just do that?

Mom turned to me, her eyes desperate. “Jerry, tell him you can’t. You need rest.”

My body ached, my wolf quiet, like it was hiding deep inside. But Dad’s eyes burned into me, commanding, and part of me agreed—if I didn’t control this thing, it’d control me. “I’ll go,” I whispered, my voice barely there.

Mom’s face fell, like I’d let her down. Dad nodded once, satisfied. “He’s stronger than you think, Debby. Watch,” he said, glancing at her.

I remembered the forest—cold dirt under me, blood’s sharp smell, Dad’s arms lifting me. Voices had floated around—“…still breathing,” “…torn apart.” My stomach churned. Did I kill them? My head pounded, fear twisting with guilt. I’d woken to Mom’s sobs, her hand squeezing mine, looking like a scared rabbit trying to smile. Dad’s calm scared me more, like he expected this. His touch erased my pain, but not the questions. Was Mom safe? Did I attack someone? My wolf stirred, restless, making my skin prickle.

By morning, we were in the car, me in a crisp uniform, Crescent High’s name fancy in my mouth. My reflection in the window stared back, and I thought of Sasha—her smile, her chill vibe. Butterflies danced in my gut, and I grinned, the first real smile since last night. School felt like a chance to be normal, but those red eyes kept haunting me.

At Crescent High, kids stared the second I stepped out, whispers buzzing like flies. “That’s him,” “Levin’s son,” “No way.” My stomach knotted. They weren’t seeing me—just Dad’s shadow. I felt small, like I was carrying his name instead of mine.

Dad walked beside me, his presence huge, like a storm cloud. Teachers stood straighter, kids hushed. His reputation was bigger than I’d imagined, stretching over the campus like a net. I was Jerry Levin, the kid with his face, his name. For a second, I stood taller, like his strength was mine, but it felt heavy too, like I wasn’t enough.

Sasha waved from the hall, her smile bright, cutting through the stares like sunlight. She glowed, unbothered, like she didn’t care about the whispers. I waved back, my heart lighter, the weight of their eyes fading for a moment.

The principal greeted us, his smile weird, too tight, like he was trying too hard. “Nice to see you, Levin Jr.,” he said, and I cringed inside. Was I just Dad’s clone? Or was I Jerry?

The meeting was quick, and the principal said, “Show him to his class.”

Mom’s voice stopped me. “Ain’t you forgetting something?”

I turned, shy, and we did our special handshake. Everyone froze, staring. Dad got the spotlight, but Mom stole it back, her grin fierce. “Wow,” Sasha murmured, and my wolf ears caught it, making my cheeks warm.

“Be good, Jerry,” Dad said, his voice firm but not mean.

“Bye, Dad,” I said, heading off.

Sasha was in my class, her seat right next to mine. Too perfect. “You’re welcome,” she said with a grin before I could ask how.

“Sasha, got something to share?” the teacher called, her voice sharp.

“No, ma’am,” Sasha said, sitting up, eyes on the board.

“Class, meet Jerry,” the teacher said, messing up my name. Everyone laughed, and I sank in my seat.

I tuned her out, my head spinning. Why was everyone so obsessed with Dad? His name followed me like a shadow, heavier than the stares. The bell rang, saving me, its sharp chime cutting through my thoughts.

My mind kept drifting to the forest—cold air on my skin, damp earth under me, blood’s metallic sting in my nose. Dad’s arms had lifted me, his heartbeat steady, but it scared me too. If he was carrying me, something bad went down. Was I attacked? Did I attack? The voices—“…torn apart”—made my gut twist. I’d done something awful, hadn’t I? The wolf’s voice, Vasilias, echoed, tying me to something bigger, something terrifying. I wanted to tell Mom, but her fear hurt enough. Dad’s calm made it worse, like he knew what I was and wasn’t telling me.

Crescent High was supposed to be a fresh start, but it felt like a trap, like those shadows in the woods watching me. Sasha’s smile was the only thing keeping me grounded, but even that couldn’t quiet the whisper in my head: They’re watching. My wolf knew it, and so did I, and it scared me more than anything.