Chapter 1

• Ayla Cross
• I had one goal: be in class before anyone else at Hollow Ridge Academy.
• Because if I beat the crowd, they couldn’t come for me.
• Especially her.
• The wind howled through the bus stop, slicing straight through my secondhand hoodie. I tightened it around myself and scanned the near-empty street, my pulse ticking faster with every passing second. The usual swarm of students hadn’t arrived yet—which was both good and bad.
• Good, because I wouldn’t have to walk past Brooke Leclair and her venom-laced entourage.
• Bad, because it meant the bus was late.
• Again.
• “Where is it?” I muttered, standing on tiptoe and craning my neck. The street was littered with crushed soda cans, cigarette butts, and wrappers that danced in the breeze like they had somewhere better to be.
• I rubbed my hands together and tried to ignore the weight of strangers pressing in around me. That’s when I heard it:
• “You’ve got blood on your dress.”
• I turned sharply. An old man with greasy hair and a permanently wrinkled coat was staring down at my outfit like I’d stepped out of a horror film.
• I looked down.
• Oh.
• Right. The red and black tie-dye dress. Tight-fitting. Frilled. A last-ditch attempt to look like a confident girl instead of a ghost in clearance rack clothes.
• “It’s fine,” I said with a tight smile. “Just bleeding with style.”
• His eyes widened. “City girls are unhinged,” he muttered, backing away.
• “Have a good day, sir,” I called after him sweetly, though my insides were folding like paper.
• Did I actually look trashy?
• I’d barely put on lipstick. Let my curly hair down for once. Tried to act like someone who wasn’t invisible. Someone normal. Not that it had anything to do with the fact that the Reyes twins—Zane and Jace—were visiting our school today. Nope. Definitely not that.
• “Just routine supervision,” our teacher had said yesterday. “Nothing major.”
• Sure. Just two royal Lycans, rumored to have bodies carved by gods and tempers to match, dropping into a school full of hormonal teenagers. Totally chill.
• I’d seen them once. From far off. Getting into a black SUV with tinted windows and a license plate that screamed power. Even from a distance, their presence hit like a punch.
• “Bus ain’t coming!” someone barked.
• I snapped back to reality. One of the janitors waved a grimy hand at us from across the street. “Maintenance! Walk or don’t go!”
• “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I whispered.
• Third time this week. Third damn time.
• And then, of course, it started raining.
• Because life hated me.
• I pulled my scarf up over my head and broke into a jog, silently begging the sky for mercy. That’s when I slammed my toe against a jagged rock and nearly went airborne.
• “Son of a—!” I hissed, limping now, my foot pulsing with pain and blood soaking through my cheap flats.
• Was this a warning? A sign from the universe?
• Or just another Monday?
• By the time I reached my classroom, I looked like I’d been in a fight—with the weather, the street, and maybe God himself.
• The door creaked open and thirty pairs of eyes turned to me.
• I froze.
• The Reyes twins sat in the back row, flanked by shadows and silence. Jace wore a smirk like it was sewn into his face. Zane just stared, his moss-green eyes locked on me like I was a puzzle he didn’t have time for.
• Jesus.
• They looked nothing like I expected.
• Zane’s auburn hair curled just slightly at the tips, falling into his eyes, and his cheekbones looked like they’d been carved by rage. He looked young—way too young for the level of fear people spoke of him with.
• I realized I was standing there like a statue. Soaked. Cold. And—oh God—my dress was clinging to me. Thin fabric. Pink nipples. Visible.
• “Miss Cross, you’re late,” Mr. Bernard said flatly.
• I wrapped my arms across my chest, cheeks burning. Jace’s eyes tracked the movement, a flicker of interest sparking there.
• I wanted to disappear.
• “I—I got caught in the”
• Brooke’s laugh sliced through my stammer. Loud. Mean. Familiar.
• Please not near her. Please anywhere but—
• “Detention after class,” the teacher said. “Sit… there.”
• He pointed to the only open seat.
• Between the Reyes twins.
• I wanted to scream.
• Instead, I made a choked noise, like a dying cat, and slinked toward the seat. Brooke’s eyes burned into me the entire way. If looks could kill, I’d already be in the ground.
• Sitting between Zane and Jace was like sitting between a blade and a wildfire. My skin prickled, my pulse loud in my ears.
• I could hear Brooke behind me, whispering just loud enough for everyone to catch.
• “Smells like desperation and cheap perfume… must be Ayla.”
• I gripped the edge of the desk, nails biting into my palms.
• “Think it’s genetic?” she mused. “Didn’t her mom throw herself at the Alpha King? Classic family values.”
• I squeezed my eyes shut. Don’t flinch. Don’t react. Don’t give her anything.
• But the memory crawled out anyway.
• My mom. Lexie Cross.
• She’d run off with the Alpha like she was trading up. Left me and my dad behind like we were baggage. And when her scandal went public, she vanished. Never came back.
• My dad… he broke.
• I found him one night in the shed, swaying from the rafters.
• I barely breathed now, hands trembling under the desk.
• “Oh, please,” one of Brooke’s friends snorted. “Girl looks like she’s been run through a dozen times already.”
• Laughter. Ugly and loud.
• And then—
• “Say one more word, Brooke.”
• The voice was low. Razor-sharp. Full of threat.
• Zane.
• The room went dead silent.
• My breath caught.
• Brooke blinked. “I—I was just”
• “Try me,” Zane growled. “I dare you.”
• She went quiet.
• I sat frozen, pulse racing, as something strange swelled in my chest. Gratitude? Shock? Something… warmer?
• No. Don’t be stupid.
• Don’t ever mistake survival for affection.
• The bell rang.
• “Class dismissed,” Mr. Bernard called.
• The twins stood at the same time, all movement and muscle. They didn’t even glance at me.
• “Let’s go, Jace,” Zane said.
• And just like that, they were gone.
• No second look. No acknowledgment. Nothing.
• Still… my heart fluttered like an idiot.
• I shook myself out of it and grabbed my bag.
• “Ayla, wait!”
• I turned too fast.
• Brooke’s foot.
• My body pitched forward and I hit the floor hard—face-first, chin slamming into linoleum. The sound echoed.
• Laughter erupted behind me.
• Of course.