EMILIA

My eyes fluttered open, heavy like weights, the world around me blurred and bathed in sterile white.

“What… happened?” I murmured, my voice barely a breath.

Then it hit me: the sharp, sterile sting of antiseptic in the air, the rhythmic beep of a heart monitor echoing like a countdown. I was in a hospital.

A chill rolled through me, not from the cold, but from the creeping memory of pain, the fall, and the darkness. I wasn’t alone when it happened… was I?

“Oh, thank goodness, Emilia—you’re awake!”

Sasha’s voice cracked with relief, but I barely processed the words. My body protested as I shifted slightly, a dull ache pulsing through every muscle.

“My mind has been a mess, my world—”

“Shhh…” I tried to stop her, my throat dry, but of course, it was Sasha. Always dramatic. Always extra.

“What… happened?” I asked, my breath shaky this time, barely holding itself together.

“You’ve been unconscious for two days.”

My eyes widened. “Two days?” I echoed, the words tasting foreign in my mouth.

Memories flickered behind my eyes. The fall, the pain, and then… green eyes. Vivid, piercing. Not a dream. Real.

“Who brought me here?” I tried to sit up as the image clawed its way to the front of my mind.

Sasha shook her head, her brows pinched with confusion. “I don’t know, Em. I just got a call. No name. Just… ‘Come get her.’

I was discharged the next day. The doctor claimed nothing was wrong, just stress, he said, like it was a simple explanation for everything. But deep down, I knew better. What I’d felt wasn’t just exhaustion or pressure… it was something else entirely.

I had anatomy class that morning and decided to focus on it, to shove all the weirdness of the past few days to the back of my mind. Even though I knew it was pointless… It didn’t make any of it go away.

Mr. Raymond, my professor, wasn’t exactly known for his tolerance, especially not when it came to latecomers. Naturally, that had to be the morning my rickety ride decided to give up on me.

“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath, slamming the hood shut as steam hissed up.

I had to take the bus instead. My earpiece was plugged in, volume maxed, trying to drown out my thoughts. I wore my usual grey hoodie and a pair of faded blue jeans and had my messy brunette hair pulled into a ponytail. Nothing special. Just the usual, Em.

Unfortunately, I was late.

“Why are you just coming in, Miss Flynn?” Mr. Raymond’s voice rang out, sharp as a slap. The stern frown on his face made it clear I was already on his bad side.

Before I could even get a word out, another voice cut through the air, smooth and oddly familiar.

“We’re sorry, Mr. Raymond,” the voice said. “I was driving a little too recklessly and accidentally hit her car. It’s my fault.”

The entire hall went still. I froze. That voice… I knew it from somewhere, but I couldn’t place it.

I felt the presence before I even looked up—tall, magnetic, commanding. He stepped beside me, and the sheer height of him was enough to make my breath hitch.

He stood at least 6’3”, dressed in a charcoal-black shirt that clung to a lean, muscular build, paired with fitted dark jeans and boots too clean for this town. His skin was pale, but not sickly—more like moonlight distilled into flesh. His hair was ink-black and tousled in a way that looked both accidental and deliberate.

He wore dark shades, the reflective kind that made it impossible to see his eyes—but somehow, I still felt them on me. Cold. Intense.

“Find a place to sit,” Mr. Raymond snapped, his frown still etched deep across his face.

I muttered an apology and slid into the nearest empty seat, right beside the guy who had just ‘accidentally’ hit my car.

For the first time, I didn’t enjoy anatomy class. Numbers swam before my eyes, but my focus was wrecked beyond repair.

His cologne was dark, spiced, and dangerously addictive—the kind that clung to your senses long after he was gone. I couldn’t block it out, not even with my hoodie pulled over half my face.

Worse, he’d taken off his shades.

I didn’t even look into his eyes, and still, it felt like I was being seen.

Not the casual kind of scene, either. The kind that strips your soul bare.

“Girl, what took you so long?” Sasha’s voice yanked me out of my daze.

Class had ended thirty minutes ago, and I was still sitting there like an idiot. The mysterious guy hadn’t said another word to me, and I sure as hell hadn’t said anything to him either.

“I’m really sorry about the party…” Sasha began.

“No, it’s fine,” I cut her off quickly, forcing a smile I didn’t feel.

She looked relieved, then grinned. “So… Everyone’s talking about some new student who was in your anatomy class today. Did you meet him?”

I rolled my eyes. “Why do you care?”

“Because,” she said, practically squealing, “the way they described him—tall, hot, and mysterious? Girl, it sounds like he was made for me.”

I couldn’t help it. I giggled.

“Come on,” she said, eyes gleaming. “Let’s grab lunch before the line gets crazy; I need fuel if I’m going to survive this mystery man.”

As we neared the cafeteria, a sleek, obsidian Lamborghini Aventador came tearing down the campus road, its glossy surface gleaming like polished armor, engine snarling like a beast. The thing looked like it belonged on a racetrack, not a school lot. It zoomed so fast, Sasha and I barely jumped out of the way in time.

“Watch where you’re going, dumbass!” I yelled, heart racing, my hand instinctively flying up in frustration.

The car screeched to a halt just ahead of us. The driver’s window whirred down slowly, almost theatrically.

“Is that what I get for saving your ass?” The voice was smooth, rich, and familiar.

My chest tightened.

I looked up, and this time, I caught a clear glimpse of his face.

It was the mysterious guy from math class.

His eyes.

Green. Piercing. Unforgiving.

Exactly like the ones from the party.

Is he the one?

I didn’t even need confirmation. My instincts screamed yes.

“I didn’t ask you,” I snapped, standing my ground. “I was fine on my own.”

“Get in,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Huh?” I blinked at him, thrown off. Where exactly did he get his audacity from?

“I said we need to talk.”

I glanced at Sasha, who was wide-eyed and clearly dying for details.

“See you later, Sash,” I muttered, slipping into the passenger seat before I could second-guess it.

The door clicked shut.

The engine purred to life.

After ten minutes of silence, the tension was so thick I could chew it; I finally broke.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Be calm, Miss V.”

Miss V?

I arched a brow, clearly questioning the sudden nickname. “Miss V?”

He finally glanced at me, his expression unmoving, all sharp lines and a stern face that looked like it hadn’t cracked a smile in years.

“Yeah. Aren’t you Valeska?”

“I’m not,” I said, my voice cool.

He didn’t apologize. Just stared at me for a beat, his jaw flexing slightly before returning his gaze to the road.

WEIRD!

We pulled up to a high-end restaurant that looked like the kind of place where a glass of water cost a thousand bucks.

“Make your order,” he said once we were seated, voice still flat, still a command.

“I didn’t tell you I was hungry, Mr. D,” I replied, lifting a brow.

He smirked—slow, smug, and annoyingly attractive.

Jesus Christ. He was beautiful.

The kind of beautiful that made your brain short-circuit for a second before you remembered he was also a walking ego trip.

He didn’t ask what the D stood for.

He didn’t have to.

He clearly assumed—and honestly, with the way he was acting, he wasn’t wrong.

The D might as well stand for dick.

“I’m here to help you, Valeska.”

I blinked. “I don’t—”

“Don’t call me that,” I snapped, cutting him off. “I’m Emily.”

He ignored me. Like I hadn’t said a single word.

“Why do you take those pills all the time?”

My heart stuttered. My breath caught in my throat.

How did he know that?

No one knew. Not even Sasha. My mom had always warned me to keep it secret.

“Who told you that…?” I started to ask, but he cut in again.

“Do you know who you really are?”

I let out a short, awkward laugh—but the uneasy feeling in my stomach refused to fade.

“What are you talking about?” I arched my brow, trying to mask my confusion with sarcasm. “Where is this conversation even going?”

He leaned closer, so close his hot breath fanned across my face.

“You’re not from here.”

I frowned. “Yeah. I know that. I’m from Alabama. I’m just schooling here.”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

His eyes locked onto mine, deadly serious.

“You’re not human. You’re a werewolf.”

Silence.

And then—I burst out laughing.

His expression didn’t change. No smirk. No grin. Just that same stone-cold seriousness.

“Are you some kind of comedian?” I scoffed, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye.

“I’m serious, Valeska.”

“Stop calling me that. It’s Emily,” I yelled.

“The pills—they’ve been suppressing your werewolf genes.”

I stood abruptly, my chair screeching across the floor.

“I can’t do this. I can’t listen to this madness,” I said, grabbing my bag and storming toward the exit.

He didn’t follow me.

Thank the goddess for that.

But I could feel his gaze like ice along my spine as I shoved open the door and stepped outside.

I was so disoriented, I didn’t even realize I’d stepped straight into the road.

Then I heard the honk. Loud. Sharp.

My heart leapt.

I looked up, and headlights were just inches away.

I shut my eyes, bracing for the impact…