Chapter 2: What do you want?

Jaden was not a calm kid.

Anyone who’d met him for more than three seconds could testify. The boy had the energy of a caffeinated hurricane with glitter thrown in — people flocked to him, clung to him, argued with him, and got exhausted by him. But alone? Yeah, technically he was alone.

But who cared.

High school was temporary. Chaos was forever.

His dad always said, “Whatever you do, do it with your entire chest.”

Jaden took that personally.

So he planned to live high school like a side quest unlocked by insanity. Maxed out stats. Zero shame. Full throttle.

That morning, he pulled up to school on his bike, hair blowing like he owned the sunrise. He parked, slung his backpack over his shoulder — and then a sleek black sedan rolled to the curb.

He gave it two seconds of attention.

Rich kids galore, nothing new.

But then the passenger door opened.

A boy stepped out.

Blonde.

Pretty.

Too pretty, actually — like he’d been carved by a soft-spoken deity with a perfection kink.

And then hoodie-boy pulled a mask up, bowed his head, and practically vanished under the fabric.

Jaden stared.

Interesting.

Mysterious.

Fashionable. Who was this masked angel? A transfer? A runaway idol? A boy hiding from the authorities because of an embarrassing haircut?

He wanted to know. He needed to know.

He didn’t get the chance.

Before first period, when the hallway was its usual zoo, someone suddenly shouted:

“AREN’T YOU THAT MURDERER KID?!”

The loud voice cracked through the crowd. Jaden spun around and — bingo.

There he was. His masked angel. Center of attention in the worst way possible.

People whispered, gasped, clutched lockers dramatically.

But Jaden looked at him and instantly knew:

Nah.

This one wasn’t a killer.

Murderers had a vibe — an aura of cold calculation, dead eyes, maybe a shadow complex.

This boy?

He looked more like a tired cat shoved into human clothes.

Curiosity hooked Jaden’s throat. He wanted to talk to him. He wanted to look him in the eye properly. He wanted to know what the mask was hiding.

But they shared zero classes.

Zero.

The universe was testing him.

By lunch, rumors had gone from “maybe” to “confirmed by literally nobody.” The cafeteria buzzed like a hive on drama steroids.

Jaden plopped his tray down, and Casey immediately rushed over, face pale.

“Jaden, we need to be careful. There’s a psychopath in our school.”

Jaden blinked. Then his ears started ringing — not with fear — but excitement.

Hold on.

Psychopath?

At school?

Today?

He looked around the cafeteria…

and there. In the furthest corner, hidden like a cryptid sighting, sat his masked angel. Eating alone. Hoodie shadowing his face.

Jaden shot to his feet like someone plugged him into a socket.

“WAIT… YOU MEAN A PSYCHOPATH IS IN OUR SCHOOL?!”

Casey flinched. Andy slapped his arm.

“Jayden, sit DOWN. Why are you being loud? This is the cafeteria, not a stadium!”

Jaden ignored them entirely.

“Like the psychopathic kid? The killer?”

Casey groaned and hissed, “Yes! And honestly, I feel like you’re going to be the next victim.”

Jaden tossed his hair. “Please. I look too good to be his victim.”

And across the room?

The angel looked up.

Eyes visible.

Attention caught.

Oh.

Oh this was delicious.

Jaden sat. He took a dramatic, thoughtful bite of his lunch.

But his mind spiraled.

He wanted more.

More attention.

More eye contact.

More reaction from the boy who looked like sin wrapped in silence.

He pushed his tray aside, stood again, and declared to his friends:

“Guys, picture this. How about I get with the psychopath and add him to my grand list?”

Avery hit him first.

Then Casey.

Then Andy.

“You’re embarrassing us!”

“Sit down!”

“Do you HAVE to say everything you think?!”

Jaden waved them off.

“No, listen. He’s a murderer, right?”

The cafeteria turned its attention again.

Jaden grinned.

“I want to have sex with him.”

Bullseye.

A violent coughing fit erupted from the corner. Mask off. Face revealed. Gorgeous panic in HD.

Jaden felt triumph bloom.

He winked.

Blew the boy a kiss across the room.

The angel froze like someone unplugged his soul.

The moment Jaden blew that kiss, the whole cafeteria inhaled at once, like they were watching the season finale of a messy reality show.

Casey was the first to recover.

He grabbed Jaden’s arm.

Andy grabbed the other.

In perfect sibling–friend unity, they dragged him back into his seat.

“JAY,” Casey whisper-yelled, “what the hell are you doing?!”

Andy looked like he wanted to shove Jaden into a locker just to reset his brain. “You didn’t just embarrass yourself — you embarrassed the entire table.”

Avery, sitting across from them with her tray untouched, added, “And you made the kid uncomfortable. Congratulations. New record.”

Jaden rolled his eyes like a king bored by peasants.

“I didn’t make him uncomfortable.”

He pointed toward the corner where the masked angel was still frozen mid-cough, staring like reality betrayed him.

“I made him notice me.”

Avery pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, listen. I’m basically the Cupid of this school, right?”

She gestured dramatically.

“And I’m telling you right now — there is NO red cord tying you two together. Zero. Nada. Zilch.”

Jaden smirked. “We might not have anything.”

He looked back at the boy. Their eyes briefly met. The angel panicked and looked away like he’d touched fire.

Jaden felt the thrill spark.

“But I’ll make sure,” he continued softly, confidently.

“I’m going to make him mine. And that is a promise.”

Avery groaned into her hoodie. “God save us.”

The rest of the school day passed in a haze of whispers, stares, and students giving Kai enough distance to build a small nation around himself.

Jaden knew he caused exactly ninety-five percent of that chaos.

Worth it.

When the final bell rang, the masked angel practically sprinted out of class. Clearly avoiding attention. Or avoiding Jaden, specifically.

Hard to blame him.

Being labeled “the murderer” was bad enough.

Being “the murderer Jaden Afolayan wants to sleep with” was legendary in all the wrong ways.

Jaden followed.

Stealth wasn’t his specialty, but obsession?

Oh, he excelled at that.

He trailed the boy past the courtyard, past the sports field, right toward the back of the school where no one ever went except smokers, fighters, and people having emotional breakdowns.

But then — poof.

Gone.

He blinked.

Where did he—

Before the thought finished, something cold pressed against his neck.

Metal.

A knife.

His blood froze.

His brain did not.

Because that voice — low, calm, and edged with danger — whispered behind him:

“What do you want?”

And Jaden realized his masked angel was a lot less angel and a lot more withdrawn wolf with a knife and trauma.

Perfect.