Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Haunting Past and an Unexpected Collision

I jolted awake, a scream caught in my throat. The same nightmare. Always the same.

"Run, Aria! Take your mother and run!"

My father's desperate voice echoed in my mind as clearly as it had thirteen years ago. I was five then, clutching my mother's hand as we fled through the forest. The sounds of growls, flesh tearing, and my father's final howl of pain haunted me still.

I sat up, my heart hammering against my ribs. Sweat dampened my nightshirt and plastered strands of hair to my forehead. Taking deep breaths, I glanced at the clock: 6:15 AM. No point trying to sleep again.

"It was just a dream," I whispered to myself, knowing it was a lie. It wasn't just a dream. It was a memory—the night my father sacrificed himself during a pack war so my mother and I could escape.

I pushed my tangled hair away from my face and slid out of bed. The wooden floor felt cool beneath my bare feet as I padded to the bathroom. The face in the mirror looked tired, with shadows under eyes that had seen too much for someone only eighteen.

"Another day," I sighed, splashing cold water on my face.

After showering, I carefully constructed my daily armor. I pulled my hair into a plain ponytail, slipped on my fake glasses—my vision was perfect, but the lenses helped hide my expressions—and chose the baggiest jeans and oversized sweater I owned.

Perfect. Nothing to draw attention. Nothing to make me a target.

"Aria? Are you awake, honey?" My mother's gentle voice called from downstairs.

"Coming, Mom!" I grabbed my backpack and headed down.

Mom was at the kitchen table, a mug of coffee warming her hands. Though still beautiful, worry lines had etched themselves permanently around her eyes after Dad died.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked, though we both knew the answer.

"Fine," I lied, pouring myself some orange juice.

She studied me carefully. "You're turning eighteen soon, Aria."

I busied myself making toast. "Yes, in a few months."

"You know what that means, don't you?" Concern tinged her voice.

I knew exactly what she meant. Eighteen was when most werewolves found their mates. The thought terrified me.

"Mom, can we not talk about this now? I'll be late for class."

She sighed. "I just worry. We're omegas in an Alpha-dominated pack. Without your father's protection..."

"I know," I interrupted softly. "But I'm fine being invisible. It's safer that way."

My mother looked like she wanted to say more but instead nodded and pushed a plate of eggs toward me. "At least eat something."

I managed a few bites to please her before kissing her cheek and heading out. Our small house sat at the edge of Midnight Sun Pack territory—as far from the center of power as possible while still being within pack boundaries. Just how we liked it.

The walk to the university took twenty minutes. I kept my head down, glasses firmly in place, and backpack hugged to my chest like a shield. The campus bustled with activity, students gathered in cliques, laughing and chatting.

"Aria!" A familiar voice cut through the crowd.

I smiled as Vivienne Hayes approached, her designer clothes and confident stride drawing admiring glances. Why she'd befriended me, I'd never understand, but I was grateful.

"You look like you barely slept," she commented, linking her arm through mine.

"Rough night," I admitted.

Vivienne nodded sympathetically. "Come on, we're going to be late for Werewolf History."

We slipped into the lecture hall just before Professor Jenkins began. I settled into my usual seat in the back corner, trying to become invisible as the classroom filled.

"Did you hear?" A girl whispered to her friend two rows ahead. "Lucian Monroe broke up with Sloane last night. Again."

"They'll be back together by lunch," her friend replied with an eye roll. "Those two are toxic."

I found myself glancing toward the door despite myself. Lucian Monroe—the Head Alpha's son, basketball captain, and notorious campus bad boy. Just thinking about him made my heart beat faster, which was ridiculous. He was everything I avoided—loud, powerful, at the center of attention.

And he'd never even noticed I existed.

Professor Jenkins cleared his throat, and the class fell silent. I focused on taking notes, refusing to join the collective sigh when Lucian sauntered in fifteen minutes late, his dark hair tousled and his signature smirk in place. I definitely didn't notice how his black t-shirt clung to his broad shoulders or the way his eyebrow piercing caught the light.

Definitely not.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. Discreetly checking it under the desk, I saw a text from Caleb.

Caleb: Meet me at the basketball court after class?

I smiled. Caleb Monroe—no relation to Lucian—was one of my few friends. Captain of the rival basketball team, the Scarlet Phantoms, he was kind, smart, and never made me feel like the omega outcast I was.

When class ended, I gathered my things slowly, waiting for the crowd to thin before making my way toward the courts. The spring air carried the scent of freshly cut grass and distant rain. I pulled my sweater tighter around me, more out of habit than cold.

The basketball courts came into view, but I didn't see Caleb. Instead, a group of boys I recognized from Lucian's circle lounged against the fence, tossing a ball back and forth.

"Hey, look, it's the little omega nerd," one called out, nudging his friend.

My cheeks burned. I ducked my head and quickened my pace, intending to wait elsewhere for Caleb.

"What's the hurry, sweetheart?" Another boy stepped into my path.

"Please, I—I'm just meeting someone." My voice came out smaller than I intended.

"Ooh, she's meeting someone," he mocked. "Got a date with a book?"

Laughter rippled through the group. I sidestepped, desperate to escape their attention, walking backward as I tried to put distance between us.

"Leave me alone," I said, my voice steadier now despite my racing heart.

"Or what?" The boy stepped closer.

I turned quickly, intending to flee—and slammed straight into what felt like a brick wall. Strong hands gripped my shoulders to steady me as I stumbled backward.

Looking up, my breath caught in my throat. The brick wall was a chest. Lucian Monroe's chest, to be specific. And he was staring right at me, dark eyes narrowed and unreadable behind his signature scowl.

My stomach dropped to my feet as our eyes locked. The world seemed to slow, and for one terrifying moment, I couldn't look away from his intense gaze.

Oh no.