Prologue

Natalie

I stood under the flimsy canopy Lisa had set up, handing out animal cruelty campaign fliers.

It was a sweet little setup—messy, mismatched, but hers. I liked that about her. And in a town like Hawkshire, where boredom wrapped around you like a heavy coat, helping her felt like a lifeline.

I didn’t want to be here. Cainebrielle University wasn’t my choice—it was my uncle’s dream, not mine.

I was just playing along, stuck in a place that felt too polished, too fake, and miles away from anything that felt like home.

My old life—my friends, my city, the pulse of it all—was behind me now. All I had was this quiet town and a school filled with kids who had never had to fight for anything.

Lisa was the one good surprise.

We met during orientation—two misfits orbiting the same chaos. She didn’t care about Greek life or social clout. She just wanted to laugh and talk about weird documentaries and help animals. That was enough for me.

Cainebrielle might’ve been built for the ultra-rich, but Lisa didn’t play by their rules. She didn’t pretend to care about the frats and sororities everyone else drooled over.

Most girls there wanted to wear their letters like crowns. Lisa just wanted to be real.

She lived on campus, so she had to deal with all of it. The invites. The weird rituals. The mean-girl politics. I got the inside scoop daily, like a front-row seat to a trainwreck.

Alpha Selene House was the worst—over-the-top pink, fake-smile sorority girls who didn’t take no for an answer.

Michelle Calpacut led them like some kind of dictator in heels. Declining their invitation didn’t mean they left us alone.

It meant they doubled down.

I hated the whole act, the forced sweetness, the way they draped everything in sugar while sharpening their claws behind their backs.

While we stood at the booth, I spotted Grant Hopkins walking toward us. Lisa stiffened. Not because he was hot—though he was—but because there was something else. Something unspoken between them. Maybe it was mystery, maybe tension. Whatever it was, it made her nervous, and I didn’t ask questions.

“Hey,” he said, eyes on me. “You coming to the bonfire next week?” Then he winked at Lisa, casual and smooth, like it meant nothing—but her face lit up like a sparkler.

“I… uh…” I began, already thinking of excuses.

“Sure,” Lisa cut in, her voice a little too bright. I glanced at her. She was glowing. He looked at her for a second longer, and I swear—just for a flicker—his eyes softened.

“Cool. See you two there,” he said, then turned to me and took one of the fliers I was holding. His lips curled as he skimmed it.

“We saving puppies now, too?” he asked, flashing that grin at Lisa. She nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Them too,” she said, voice small but confident. I almost laughed. I had to choke it back, but the sound that slipped out made both of them look at me. I shrugged.

“See you next week,” he said and walked away, easy and untouchable.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Lisa let out a squeal that was all nerves and giddy hope.

“I think he likes me,” she said, nearly bouncing.

I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t say what I was thinking—that Grant was the kind of guy who always kept a mirror close, because no one admired him more than he did. His ego practically had its own gravitational field. Still, I let her have her moment.

Maybe she was right. Maybe there was more to him. Maybe.

I glanced at my phone. My next class was creeping up, and I was about to tell Lisa I couldn’t stay much longer when trouble walked right up to us—heels clicking, hair perfect, ego inflated.

Michelle Calpacut.

Flanked by her loyal shadows, Ashley and Bree, she sauntered over with that trademark smirk—half bored, half insulted—like our little setup had personally offended her.

“Did you two get permission to put this up?” she asked, eyeing the canopy like it might give her a rash.

“None of your business, Calpacut,” Lisa snapped before I could open my mouth.

Her voice was sharp enough to cut glass.

Michelle didn’t flinch, but she definitely didn’t like that.

Fourth year or not, this wasn’t high school anymore—but someone forgot to tell her that. She wore her seniority like a crown no one else recognized.

Michelle leaned in slightly, lips curling into something that was meant to be a smile but felt more like a warning. “You better watch yourselves.”

“Oh please,” I muttered.

“When we extended that invitation,” she went on, “it was for your own good. But since you’ve chosen to decline... be ready for what comes next.”

My patience cracked. I stepped forward before I could think twice.

“Is that a threat?” I asked, eyes locked on hers.

She tilted her head, amused. And there it was again—that strange glint in her eyes, something I couldn’t quite place.

“Not a threat, darling,” she said, dragging the word out like silk. “Just a friendly heads-up.”

“Here’s mine,” I shot back. “I won’t hesitate to file a formal complaint if you keep harassing us.”

Michelle laughed. Actually laughed.

“You think I’m your biggest problem, Pierce?” she said, using my last name like it gave her power. “You’ve barely scratched the surface of this place. Cainebrielle eats people alive. Let’s see if you last.”

She looked at Lisa then, eyes narrowing. “Oh, and one more thing—Grant and Carson? Off-limits.”

The audacity.

Lisa raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “Until I see a ring on Grant’s finger, he’s fair game.”

That hit a nerve. Michelle’s face faltered, just for a moment. Something flashed behind her eyes—fear, maybe? Whatever it was, she tried to cover it, but I saw it.

Without another word, she turned on her heel. “Come on,” she snapped at Ashley and Bree, who scrambled to keep up as they hurried off.

Lisa and I watched them go. The moment was heavy but weirdly electric. Something was shifting, and we both felt it.

“What was that even about?” Lisa asked, brows still knitted after Michelle’s dramatic exit.

I shrugged. “Power trip. Who knows.”

I checked my phone again and cursed under my breath. “Crap—I’m late. Professor Isaac’s class is at the gazebo out by Western Halls Garden. I’ve gotta run.”

Lisa glanced at the time and nodded. “Cut through the woods. You’ll get there faster,”

I hesitated. “Thanks,” I said and took off.

We called it the woods, but it wasn’t exactly a forest—just a preserved patch of old trees the university hadn’t flattened yet. It was quiet, shaded, and usually peaceful. No animals, no real danger. Just a shortcut.

I picked up my pace, boots crunching over the leaf-strewn path. The air smelled like pine and damp earth. I was already forming an excuse in my head for being late when I saw it.

A black shape ahead.

At first, I thought it was a dog—some large, stray animal maybe. But as I stepped closer, I stopped cold.

It wasn’t a dog.

It was a wolf.

Massive. Jet-black. Standing still in the middle of the path, its eyes locked onto mine. It didn’t growl. It didn’t move. It just stared.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t blink. It was the size of a damn horse, its head level with mine even on all fours. No way this was real. No way this was just a wild animal that wandered too far.

My heartbeat thundered in my ears.

Then, suddenly, its ears twitched. Something shifted in its expression—fear? Confusion? Concern? I couldn’t tell.

Not of me.

It was looking past me.

Before I could turn around to see what it saw, the wolf bolted left and disappeared into the trees like smoke. Gone.

I stood frozen, chest tight, hands shaking. I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding my breath until a hand gently touched my shoulder from behind.

I screamed—loud. Pure panic.

“Shhh,” a voice said softly, low and calm, somehow cutting through the chaos in my chest. “It’s gone.”

I spun around, heart still racing.

He stood just behind me—tall, still, like he’d been there the whole time. He removed his hand and stepped back.

And that’s when I saw his eyes—bright, piercing green, almost too vivid to be real. There was something about him, something that made everything else fade out. Even in my panic, I felt the pull.

“You must be new,” he said. His voice was smooth, dark, and unsettlingly calm. “You shouldn’t walk alone through here.”

I wanted to ask what the hell that thing was, or who are you, or even how long were you standing there, but the words stuck to my throat.

He gave me one last look—almost curious—then turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows between the trees.

I was still standing there, stunned and speechless. My legs finally remembered how to move.

And all I could think was:

What the hell just happened?