Chapter 4: The fire within

"She’s something else. That girl is something else," Maurice muttered, his smirk lingering as we watched her stride out of the cafeteria. Her movements were deliberate, her presence magnetic. A ripple followed her, silencing conversations and drawing every gaze in the room.

Draco, usually indifferent, nodded silently. His gaze lingered too long on the door she’d disappeared through.

Laura, sitting beside me, crossed her arms. Her earlier excitement had drained away, replaced by a cold seriousness that set my teeth on edge.

“She’s not normal,” she muttered.

The words were quiet but carried weight, enough to make us all turn to her. Laura rarely spoke without careful thought.

“What do you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

She hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge of her glass. “I told you the first time I saw her—there was nothing. No past, no future. Blank.”

Maurice chuckled nervously. “You’ve said that before, Laura. Maybe she’s just good at blocking you out.”

Laura’s icy glare silenced him. “No one can block me, Maurice. No human. No wolf. Nothing. When I tried to connect, even when I hugged her earlier to draw clarity, it was like staring into a void. It’s not blocking—it’s… *absence.*”

“Absence?” Vince leaned forward, adjusting his glasses. “Like she doesn’t exist?”

“Yes.” Laura’s voice tightened. “It’s impossible, but that’s what I felt—or didn’t feel. She defies everything I know.”

The weight of her words hung heavy in the room. I leaned back, folding my arms as my thoughts churned. Laura’s ability to see the past and future of anyone—anything—had never failed. But this girl, Cassandra, shattered that certainty.

“I can’t smell her blood,” I said suddenly, breaking the silence.

The others stared at me, their expressions a mixture of confusion and surprise.

“At first, I thought it was the medicine dulling my senses,” I continued. “But in the Bio Lab, when she was sitting right beside me, I couldn’t pick up a thing. Not even a trace. Just… cinnamon and vanilla.”

Maurice raised an eyebrow. “Cinnamon and vanilla? That’s… unexpected.”

“It’s not just unexpected,” I snapped, my frustration boiling over. “It’s unnatural. Her heartbeat’s erratic when she’s near me—fast, loud—but it’s not fear, and it’s not attraction. So what the hell is it?”

“In deep thought, are we, Van?” Laura teased, though her voice lacked its usual playfulness.

I scowled, hating the way her words prodded at something I couldn’t name. “She’s just an arrogant, annoying girl stirring up trouble in Mistletoe. She’s not a threat, and she’s *definitely* not worth my time.”

The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, and the irritation clawed at me, refusing to let go. She wasn’t just a girl. She was a puzzle—a maddening one I couldn’t ignore.

The medicine’s effects were fading, the familiar heat building in my veins. My temper frayed, the fire inside threatening to consume me.

Without a word, I stood and left.

---

The forest blurred around me as I ran, the world reduced to shadows and streaks of moonlight. The cool night air stung my face, but it wasn’t enough to quell the storm inside.

Then I heard it.

A sharp cry cut through the night, sharp and desperate.

I froze, my ears honing in on the sound. A woman’s voice.

The old park came into view, its swings rusted and its sandbox overgrown. Beneath the flickering light of a streetlamp, I saw them—a woman and a child.

The child clutched her knee, tears streaming down her face. Blood dripped onto the sand, the scent hitting me like a thunderclap. Sweet, intoxicating, and sharp. My heart pounded, each beat a painful echo in my chest.

The woman leaned over the child, her voice gentle as she blew on the wound. “I told you to be careful, Naih. Let me see.”

The scent of blood filled the air, thick and overwhelming. My claws extended involuntarily, my instincts surging to the surface.

Run. *Run now.*

But my body refused to move.

The child’s heartbeat was loud, the flow of her blood singing in my ears. My vision blurred, the edges of the world darkening. My breath came in ragged gasps, the transformation clawing at me.

“They’re not enemies, Van. Not always.”

Agatha’s voice echoed in my mind, a tether to sanity. My old mentor’s words, spoken so long ago, were the only thing holding me back.

With a shuddering breath, I tore my gaze away and ran—deeper into the forest, away from the temptation.

---

In the heart of the forest, I let go.

The transformation overtook me, my body shifting with violent force. Claws tore into the earth, fur bristled against the night air, and my senses exploded in clarity.

Power surged through me, wild and untamed. Lifting my head to the sky, I howled—a primal, deafening sound that echoed through the trees.

Far away, others answered. Their howls carried deference, acknowledgment.

“Remember this voice,” I growled, my words a vow to the unseen. “I am the Alpha.”

The echoes faded, leaving only the sound of my ragged breaths.

When the storm within finally calmed, I collapsed onto the cool earth, the weight of my instincts receding.

---

By the time I returned to the mansion, the moon hung high in the sky. The dining hall buzzed with muted conversation, the long table laden with food.

As I entered, silence fell.

Lucius was the first to speak, his tone cautious. “How are you?”

I nodded curtly, taking my seat at the head of the table—the Alpha’s seat.

“Let’s eat,” I said.

The others hesitated before obeying, their chatter resuming in hushed tones.

“How’s the medication?” Uncle Alastor asked, his gaze sharp.

“It doesn’t work,” I replied. “The blood’s power is too strong. I’ve decided to stop taking it.”

The room stilled.

“You can’t do that, Van,” Laura said, alarm flashing in her eyes.

Maurice leaned forward, his expression grave. “Your aggression will peak without it. You’re at your most dangerous.”

“I’m the Alpha,” I said, cutting them off. “If I can’t control myself without it, I don’t deserve this title.”

I stood, ignoring their protests, and left the hall.

In my room, I stared out at the forest. The faint glow of the moon felt mocking, as if it doubted me.

“I am the Alpha,” I whispered to the night. “And I will prove it.”

The fire inside me burned on, relentless.