Chapter 3

Finn's eyes were burning holes in the back of my head.

It had been like this for days. Gym class, cafeteria, hallways—everywhere I went, I could feel him watching. Not just watching. Stalking.

Today's gym class was combat training. Werewolf style, which meant a lot of growling, showing off, and pretending to be tougher than you actually were.

I sat on the bleachers, trying to be invisible. The usual strategy.

"Heads up!" someone yelled.

The dodge ball hit me square in the ribs before I could react. The impact knocked the air from my lungs and sent me sprawling onto the floor.

Pain exploded across my side. I gasped, unable to breathe for a few horrible seconds.

"Oops." Finn's voice, dripping with fake concern. "My bad. Guess I don't know my own strength."

Through watering eyes, I saw him standing there with that smug smile. A few guys laughed. The gym teacher barely looked up from his phone.

I pushed myself up slowly, clutching my ribs. It hurt like hell, but internally I was smiling.

Perfect. You just gave me exactly what I needed, you idiot.

"It's fine," I said, keeping my voice small and shaky. "Accidents happen."

Finn's smile widened. He thought he'd won.

By evening, my ribs had turned an impressive shade of purple. I stood in front of my dorm mirror, prodding the bruise and wincing. It was real pain, but it would be worth it.

The full moon was three days away, and even now I could feel the pull of it. My wolf was restless, pacing inside me like a caged animal. For most werewolves, the days leading up to the full moon meant irritability and aggression.

For unstable alphas like Finn? It meant something much worse.

I checked the time. Nine PM. The training grounds would be empty now—or almost empty. I grabbed my jacket and headed out.

The night air was cool against my face as I approached the training grounds. I could hear it before I saw it—the sounds of something breaking, someone growling.

Finn was in the center of the field, partially shifted. His eyes were pure gold, no white showing, and his muscles were bulging in ways that looked painful. He'd torn apart three training dummies and was working on a fourth.

This was what they called "rage shifting." When an alpha lost control between human and wolf form, stuck in a violent in-between state. It was dangerous. People died from this.

I should have been running away. Instead, I walked closer.

"Finn."

His head whipped toward me, teeth bared. For a second, I thought he might attack. My wolf surged up, ready to defend, but I forced her down.

Not yet. We need him alive.

"It's me," I said softly, keeping my hands visible. "Alice. The half-blood. Remember?"

A growl rumbled in his chest. He took a step toward me, claws extended.

I started releasing my pheromones—not the weak, scared scent I usually projected, but my real ones. The calming, soothing scent that my mother had taught me to hide.

In the old wolf packs, before everything got corrupted by politics and power, there had been wolves like me. Peacekeepers. Wolves who could calm the rage of others, who could speak the ancient language that bypassed the human mind and spoke directly to the beast.

I opened my mouth and let the old words flow out. It wasn't English or any modern language. It was something deeper, something that vibrated in your bones.

Finn froze. His gold eyes fixed on me, confused.

I kept speaking, kept releasing my pheromones, and took slow steps toward him. My ribs screamed with each movement, but I ignored the pain.

"That's it," I whispered, switching back to English. "You're okay. You're safe."

His claws retracted slightly. The gold in his eyes flickered.

I was close enough now to touch him. Slowly, carefully, I reached out and placed my hand on his chest. His heart was racing like a jackhammer, and his skin was burning hot.

"Breathe with me," I said. "In. Out. In. Out."

The ancient words mixed with English, a lullaby my mother used to sing. I felt the moment his rage broke—his knees buckled, and suddenly all six feet of muscle and fury collapsed against me.

I barely stayed upright. Finn's weight nearly crushed me, and my injured ribs protested violently. But I held firm, one hand on his back, still murmuring those old words.

His breathing gradually slowed. The heat of his skin cooled. After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, he slumped against my shoulder, completely unconscious.

"Great," I muttered, trying to figure out how to move him without dropping us both. "Should have thought this through better."

I managed to ease him down onto the ground, then sat beside him, catching my breath. My ribs were killing me. My legs were shaking from adrenaline. But I'd done it.

The muscle-head was officially hooked.

The next morning, I was limping to breakfast when Finn appeared. He looked rough—dark circles under his eyes, hair a mess, and the expression of someone who'd just woken up from a nightmare.

"Alice." He blocked my path. "We need to talk."

I kept my face neutral. "About what?"

"Last night. I remember... most of it." His hands clenched into fists, but not from anger. From shame. "Did I hurt you?"

"Only earlier. With the dodge ball." I watched his face crumple. "The training ground thing? That was all you hurting yourself."

He looked away, jaw tight. "I don't deserve you helping me. I've been such an asshole to you. I don't even know why I—" He stopped, struggling with words. "The pack mentality, you know? Caleb set that bet, and everyone was doing it, and I just..."

"You just went along with it," I finished. "Because that's easier than thinking for yourself."

His head snapped up, hurt flashing across his face.

Good. Let him feel guilty.

"I'm sorry," he said, and his voice cracked. "I'm really, really sorry."

Before I could respond, he grabbed my wrist. His grip was too tight, almost painful, but his hand was trembling.

"From now on, I'll protect you," he said, eyes red-rimmed. "Anyone messes with you, they deal with me."

His pheromones had completely changed. Not the aggressive alpha scent from before, but something else. Something like... submission.

Got him.

I let my expression soften just a little. "Okay."

Finn looked like I'd just given him absolution. He released my wrist and stepped back, still looking miserable but also relieved.

That's when I noticed the figure standing at the edge of the training grounds. Caleb.

He was too far away for me to read his expression clearly, but I could feel his pheromones from here. They were... complicated. Not angry. More like confused. Or suspicious.

Our eyes met for a brief second. Then he turned and walked away.

My stomach dropped.

Shit.

Caleb wasn't stupid. He'd definitely noticed Finn's sudden attitude change toward me. I couldn't let them turn against each other because of me—not yet, anyway.

The next few days, I'd need to be more careful. Which meant more of the pheromone-masking tonic. Which meant I needed to go collect the rare herb that only grew in the Forbidden Forest.

That night, I stood at my dorm window, looking out at the dark tree line in the distance. The forest was strictly off-limits for good reason—dangerous creatures, unstable magic, and the occasional student who went in and never came out.

But I'd been preparing for this moment for months. I had a map. I had supplies. I had exactly four hours before anyone would notice I was gone.

I opened the window, felt the cool night air on my face, and climbed out.

Time to go herb hunting in the deadliest forest in the territory.

What could possibly go wrong?