Chapter 3: Shadows at Midnight

Layla stood frozen in the hallway, her breath shallow, the cold glass of the window still pressed against her fingertips. The guy outside—the one with the gray eyes—was gone again, swallowed by the dark line of trees. But his presence lingered, heavy and unshakable, like a weight on her chest. She backed away from the window, her boots squeaking faintly on the polished floor, and hurried to her room.

The door clicked shut behind her, and she leaned against it, her pulse hammering in her ears. Mira was out—probably raiding the vending machine downstairs—leaving the room dim and quiet, lit only by the faint glow of a desk lamp. Layla dropped her backpack and sank onto her bed, running her hands through her damp hair. She was losing it. That was the only explanation. Wolves didn't stalk college campuses, and strangers didn't vanish into thin air.

Her eyes drifted to the small wooden box on her nightstand, a keepsake from her grandmother, Rowan. She hadn't opened it in months—too many memories—but tonight, her fingers itched to touch it. She pulled it into her lap, tracing the carved crescent moon on the lid. Inside was a pendant, silver and simple, with a single word etched in tiny script: Guardian. Rowan had given it to her years ago, whispering something about protection, but Layla had been too young to ask questions before her grandmother passed.

She slipped the chain over her neck, the metal cool against her skin, and for a moment, she felt steadier. Just a moment. Then the howl came again—louder, closer, rattling the windowpane.

Layla shot to her feet, the box tumbling to the floor. She crossed to the window, her breath fogging the glass as she peered out. The forest was a wall of shadows, the moonlight barely piercing its depths. She scanned the tree line, half-expecting those gray eyes to reappear, but there was nothing. Until there was.

A shape emerged from the darkness—huge, hulking, moving with a predator's grace. The wolf. Its fur was dark, almost black, streaked with silver where the light caught it, and its eyes burned with that same stormy gray she'd seen twice now. It stopped just beyond the dorm's floodlights, staring up at her window.

Layla gripped the pendant, her knuckles white. She should've been terrified—any sane person would've been—but something else stirred inside her, a flicker of recognition she couldn't place. The wolf tilted its head, and then, impossibly, its form shimmered. Fur melted away, limbs stretched and shifted, and in its place stood a man.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, his jacket hanging open to reveal a chest that looked carved from stone. Rain glistened on his dark hair, and those gray eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her knees weak. He didn't move, didn't speak, just stood there, a shadow against the night.

"Who are you?" she whispered, knowing he couldn't hear her through the glass. But his lips twitched, almost like a smirk, and he took a step closer.

The door burst open behind her, and Layla yelped, spinning around. Mira stood there, a bag of chips in one hand, her eyes wide. "What the hell, Layla? You look like you're about to faint."

"There's—" Layla turned back to the window, but the man was gone. The wolf was gone. Just the empty lawn and the swaying trees. "There was someone out there."

Mira crossed the room, peering out the window with a frown. "I don't see anything. You sure you're not just freaked out from earlier?"

"He was right there," Layla insisted, pointing. "I saw him. And... a wolf."

"A wolf?" Mira snorted, crunching a chip. "In Ravenwood? You're officially nuts. Maybe you need to lay off the horror movies."

Layla opened her mouth to argue, but the words died on her tongue. What could she say? That she'd watched a wolf turn into a guy who'd been stalking her all day? Even she didn't believe it, and she'd seen it happen.

"Whatever," Mira said, flopping onto her bed. "Just don't wake me up screaming about werewolves tonight, okay?"

Layla forced a laugh, but it sounded hollow. She sat back down, the pendant heavy against her chest, and tried to focus on her breathing. In, out. In, out. It didn't help. The room felt too small, the air too thick, and that hum—the one from the café—was back, buzzing faintly in her skull.

She grabbed her phone, scrolling aimlessly to distract herself, when a sharp knock rattled the door. Mira groaned. "If that's the RA about the noise complaint again, I swear—"

"I'll get it," Layla said, jumping up. Anything to shake the restless energy coiling inside her. She cracked the door open, expecting a grumpy hall monitor, but instead, she found him.

The guy from outside stood there, filling the doorway with his presence. Up close, he was even more imposing—tall enough that she had to tilt her head back, with a jawline sharp enough to cut glass and a faint scar slashing across his left eyebrow. His gray eyes pinned her in place, and his voice, when he spoke, was rough, like gravel under boots.

"You shouldn't be alone tonight," he said, no preamble, no introduction. "Not after what you saw."

Layla's mouth went dry. "What—who are you?"

"Name's Kael," he said, stepping closer. She caught a whiff of pine and something wild, like the forest after a storm. "And you're in deeper than you know, Layla Hart."

"How do you know my name?" she demanded, her voice sharper than she felt. Her hand tightened on the door, ready to slam it shut, but he didn't flinch.

"I've been watching you," he said, matter-of-fact, like it wasn't the creepiest thing she'd ever heard. "And so has he."

"Who?" she snapped, but her mind flashed to the guy from the café—those ice-blue eyes, that unsettling smile.

Kael's gaze darkened, his jaw clenching. "The pale one. Julian. He's trouble, and he's got his sights on you. Stay away from him."

Before she could respond, he turned and stalked down the hall, his boots thudding against the floor. The door clicked shut behind him, and Layla stood there, her heart racing, the pendant warm against her skin. She didn't know what was happening, didn't understand why two strangers had crashed into her life in less than a day, but one thing was certain: Kael wasn't lying. She could feel it, that hum in her head surging like a warning.

Outside, the wind picked up, carrying the faint echo of a howl—and something else, a sharper, colder sound, like a hiss in the dark. Layla locked the door, her hands shaking, and glanced at Mira, who was already half-asleep, oblivious to the chaos unfolding.

She didn't sleep that night. Not with the shadows pressing closer and the feeling that, somehow, she'd just stepped into a game she didn't know how to play.