All Chapters of Moonchild; The Rise Of the Lycans: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Nivia POV.I woke to the sound of Rachel crying again.It was still early and our room was dim. The weak light slipping through the curtains made everything look gray.I could still hear alot of snoring floating into our space from the other rooms, and someone's alarm buzzed once, then stopped.I looked across the to my roommate.Rachel was curled up on her side, with back to me. Her shoulders shook under her blanket.“Rachel?” I whispered.She wiped at her face and cleared her throat. “I’m fine,” she said. Her voice was tight. “Go back to sleep.”I knew what this was about. It was always the same. David. Her mate. The boy who was supposed to love her, but did not even try to hide how badly he treated her.I pulled my sweater closer around me. The room felt cold to me, like it always did, even though the other girls said it was warm. My fingers were numb.“Did you guys fight?” I asked.Rachel let out a small, broken laugh. “I wish.”I sat up and swung my feet down to the floor. The c

Nivia POV.I woke before the bell.For a moment, I lay still and listened. The girls’ hostel was quiet. No running water yet. No doors slamming. Just soft breathing and the faint noise of the old ceiling fan.Rachel slept in her bed, her back to me, a thin line under her blanket. From here, I could not tell if her eyes were swollen again.I turned my head toward the window.The curtains were pulled, but a weak light usually crept through the thin cloth this early. Today, the fabric was dark. No gray glow. No sign of morning.A knot formed in my stomach.I pushed my blanket aside and slipped my feet to the floor. The tiles felt cold. I shivered and reached for my thick sweater at the end of my bed. I pulled it over the long-sleeved shirt I had slept in, then grabbed my socks.When I tugged the curtains open a little, my breath caught.The sky outside was not brightening. It was a deep, dull gray, like late evening before a storm. The lamps in the hostel yard were still on, casting ye

Nivia POVOn the third day, the plague touched skin.I knew it before I opened my eyes.The night had been restless. I kept waking, unsure if I’d dreamed the voices or if they were truly whispering over my bed. Every time I forced my eyes open, the room was the same: faint light from the corridor through the gap under the door, Rachel’s slow breathing, the outline of her body in the other bed. No wraiths. No gray ribbons of smoke. Just shadows.But the cold felt worse. It crawled through my bones like something alive.Sometime before dawn, if dawn even meant anything now. I slipped into a shallow sleep. When the bell for morning prep blared, it felt like someone had slammed a door in my head.I groaned and rolled onto my back.For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling. The fan blades turned lazily, creaking. My blanket was piled up to my chin. Even under all my layers, I couldn’t get warm.Rachel shifted in the other bed. “Turn it off,” she muttered, voice muffled by her

Claire POV I was still burning inside.I could feel the heat in my cheeks as I watched Justin and Nivia walk away across the yard. He walked close to her, like he was her shield or something. Like she deserved it.He had spoken to me like I was the problem.Me.Sonia let out a low whistle beside me. “Wow. He really went off on you.”Stephanie clicked her tongue. “Defending her like a hero. Over a girl who does not even have her wolf yet.”I bit down on the inside of my cheek. The taste of blood hit my tongue.He had looked at me with anger. At me. Not at her.All I had said was the truth. That some people bring bad luck. That some people do not belong.And then she turned, acting all brave, like she was not scared of me. Talking back. In front of everyone.I hated the way my chest hurt. It felt like I had swallowed a stone.“Did you see the way she stared at him?” Sonia said. “Like he was the only thing in the world.”“And the way he looked at her,” Stephanie added.I snapped my hea

Mateo POV.The boy looked small on the white bed.His skin was pale and slick with sweat. Angry boils swelled along his neck and jaw, some red, some yellow at the tips. His lips were cracked. A line ran from his arm to a hanging bag of clear fluid. The nurse had sedated him because he would not stop whimpering and scratching.Now he was quiet.And peaceful, deep in slumber.The machine beside his bed hissed softly. The room smelled like antiseptic and under it, the sour edge of sickness. Suzanne stood on the other side of the bed with her arms folded. She watched the boy's face, her jaw tight."I don't like this," she muttered."Me neither," I said.He was from my dorm. One of the juniors. In the middle of the night he'd woken everyone, crying and clawing at his skin as boils spread over his chest and back and arms. By morning, he could barely stand.I had carried him here.When I came through the infirmary doors with him in my arms, Nivia had been at the far end of the corridor wi