Page 6

6

LANDON

L andon hadn’t planned on starting his Wednesday morning with a punch to the jaw.

The fight had started fast, like most stupid ones did—loud words, shoves, then knuckles and adrenaline.

He didn’t even realize he was bleeding until someone pulled him off the guy and the sting flared across his cheekbone like fire.

The worst part?

He wasn’t even the one being targeted.

It was a kid. Maybe nineteen, dark curls, nervous eyes, and the faintest flicker of something not-quite-human beneath his skin.

Landon had felt it in just how jittery the kid was.

Maybe that’s how the group figured out he’d be a great target as well.

The kid was just trying to walk past the vending machines when three assholes decided they’d play judge and jury, spouting off about “monsters in schools” and “real Americans.”

Landon didn’t even think.

His body just moved.

He got between them, told them to back the hell off.

One shoved him. The second one spat something vile.

The third took the swing.

And Landon threw one back.

It was messy. Loud. Fast. The kind of thing that drew attention before anyone could stop it.

Security eventually showed up, too slow, and the human agitators scattered like roaches.

Landon sat on the curb outside the admin building, spitting blood into a napkin and cradling his bruised knuckles like a trophy.

He wasn’t proud of it.

But he wasn’t sorry either.

“Jesus, what the hell happened to your face?”

He looked up and there she was.

Sonya. Of course.

She crouched beside him, pale hair catching sunlight like spun glass, eyes immediately scanning his injuries with clinical precision.

There was something about her crouch—ready to spring, always coiled tight.

Even concerned, she looked like someone sculpted for war.

“Some guys,” Landon muttered.

“Thought the kid with the weird energy deserved a beatdown.”

Sonya frowned.

“Was it a shifter?”

He nodded.

“Yeah. I think so. I didn’t ask for ID.”

“Landon, you didn’t have to get involved. Shifters can protect themselves.”

He looked at her, hard.

“Maybe. But there were five of them. And the kid was alone.”

“Still. You don’t even know him.”

“I didn’t need to. It was wrong. I knew that.”

Her gaze didn’t waver, but something behind her eyes shifted.

Softened.

Landon looked down at his scraped hand.

“It’s been weird since I got back. I knew the world was different. Heard about the Veil coming down, supernatural beings coming out of hiding, all that. But I’ve been in backwoods towns most of my life. I didn’t think that kind of hate could still live somewhere this small.”

Sonya exhaled, low and slow.

“Hate doesn’t care about population size. It just needs a place to fester.”

“Yeah, well…” He winced and flexed his fingers.

“Maybe I’m an idiot, but I couldn’t watch it happen.”

“You’re not an idiot.”

He blinked.

That came out faster than expected.

Sonya knelt beside him on the curb and gently turned his face toward the light.

Her fingers brushed the side of his jaw, cool and sure, as she inspected the forming bruise beneath his eye.

The contact was brief, but electric.

Her touch sent a bolt of heat down his spine.

“Hold still,” she said.

“You’re gonna need something on that.”

“Got any magic ointment?”

She smirked.

“No, but I’ve got the next best thing. Stay put.”

She disappeared into her Jeep and returned with a small med kit.

Landon raised a brow.

“Do you always carry that?”

“Only when I know trouble’s enrolled in my classes.”

“Oof. Harsh.”

“Hold still, hero.”

She dabbed antiseptic on the split above his brow, her movements efficient and careful.

Landon hissed through his teeth.

“That bad?”

She gave him a look.

“You flinch like a house cat.”

“House cats are vicious.”

“Exactly.”

He grinned, but it faded as her hand slowed.

She was close now. Really close.

He could see the flecks of silver in her blue eyes.

Her lashes were too long, and her skin looked moonlit even in the daylight.

Her scent was something wild and familiar all at once—cedarwood and rain on warm stone.

“Why’d you really do it?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Landon’s throat worked as he swallowed.

“Because I had to. Not because I wanted to be brave, or noble, or some dumb white knight. Just... something in me snapped. Like it couldn’t be allowed.”

She nodded slowly, still too close.

“You’ve got a good heart.”

He laughed quietly.

“Sometimes I think it’s just too big for my own damn good.”

Her hand was still on his jaw.

She hadn’t moved. And neither had he.

“You scare me a little,” he said, voice low now.

“Not in a bad way. Just... like I’ve met a storm with legs.”

Sonya tilted her head.

“You’re not scared of me.”

He shook his head.

“No. But I should be.”

Their eyes locked again, and the air between them thickened.

Her fingers lingered for half a second too long, brushing the stubble at his jawline.

He wanted to kiss her.

He wanted it so bad it hurt.

But she pulled back first, standing abruptly and tucking the kit back under her arm like armor.

Her walls went back up, too fast, too smooth.

“I’ve got class,” she said, not looking at him.

Landon stood slowly, brushing gravel off his jeans.

“Yeah. Me too.”

She turned away, but he caught the hitch in her step before she masked it.

He didn’t say anything else.

Didn’t push.

But he watched her go, wondering why the girl with glacier eyes made him feel like he was standing too close to the sun and if she was something else as well.

Something hiding in this small town like so many others.