Page 35

The kind of gray that clung to the sky like smoke, clouds low and heavy with unshed rain. The trees lining the trail were slick with mist, their trunks dark with moisture, their branches twitching under the occasional gust of wind.

Her mind stuck on the note from yesterday, but whether she wanted to or not, Y/N was not about to affect her attendance because of it.

It smelled of damp earth and old leaves. The kind of morning that begged to be spent inside, curled in warmth, not trudging through mud at the whim of a PE teacher who clearly valued cardio over common sense.

But no one at Auragon got what they wanted.

Especially not Y/N.

Despite the warning—the ink-slick scrawl still folded beneath her pillow like a pulse she couldn't quiet—she was here. Standing at the base of a trail that coiled up the side of the forest like some sick joke, rainwater slicking the uneven path into a slide of stones and tangled roots.

She should have told someone about the note.

Julia had noticed her tension over breakfast, had even teased her for staring too long at her bowl of cereal like it held the answers to some cosmic riddle.

But Y/N hadn't said anything. Not to Julia.

Not to Adrian, who now stood further up the trail with his arms crossed and his jaw tight.

Not even to Silas, who leaned lazily against a tree like the incline was beneath him.

Of course they were fine. The Diagon students—vampires or whatever else they were pretending not to be—looked barely winded. Adrian's black shirt clung to his frame, damp from the mist but otherwise unbothered. Silas, smug as ever, hadn't even removed his jacket.

"Alright, listen up!" barked Coach Hargrove, clapping his hands like this was a game and not state-sanctioned torture. "We're doing a competitive incline challenge today. First group to the ridge gets out of afternoon drills."

A chorus of groans rippled through the human students, while the supernatural kids straightened like someone had flipped a switch. You could practically see the excitement flash in Adrian's eyes—and the twitch of Silas's lips when he caught it.

"On my whistle!" Coach shouted.

Y/N turned to Julia, who looked like she'd already decided to fake an ankle injury.

"This is hell," Julia whispered, stretching her legs half-heartedly. "This is how I die."

"At least you'll have a scenic view," Y/N muttered, already regretting every life choice that had led her to this cursed hill.

The whistle blew.

Immediately, the front of the group surged forward—a blur of too-long limbs and competitive tension. Silas was gone in a blink, taking the incline in long, predatory strides like he didn't even feel gravity. Adrian followed, silent and sharp, eyes not leaving Silas's back.

It wasn't just about the race.

Even from her place at the rear, Y/N could feel it. The silent rivalry between them, thrumming like a second heartbeat in the air. They weren't just chasing victory—they were chasing dominance. Territory. Something ancient and ugly and,

male.

And she hated how it made her heart race.

★

The rest of the class trailed behind them, human students quickly losing ground as the incline steepened. Roots tangled underfoot, hidden by leaves and the slick, churned mud of other failed attempts.

Y/N slipped once, catching herself with a hissed curse. Julia were somewhere behind her, already demanding someone carry her.

Y/N pressed forward, chest burning. Her legs ached, her lungs screamed, and yet—some primal thread inside her whispered faster. Because even though the others had forgotten, even though the morning had gone on like any other, she hadn't forgotten the note.

The forest felt wrong. The air was too still, too watchful. Like the trees themselves were waiting.

Then it happened.

A sharp pressure—like fingers curling around her ankle. She whipped her head around, but there was no one there. Just mud and roots and—the world tilted sideways.

For one wild, heart-lurching second, she hung in the air, weightless. And then she was falling—sliding fast down the muddy incline, her arms scrambling for anything to hold on to.

Her scream ripped through the morning like a shot.

"Y/N!" Julia's voice was shrill and panicked as all heads turned, even the two at the top.

Students scattered in her path as she tumbled, knocking legs out from under them like bowling pins. A chorus of yelps followed her descent as half the class began to slide too, helpless against the pull of gravity and mud.

She couldn't stop. The earth rushed past her in a blur of brown and green and white-knuckled fear. Branches whipped past her face. Her elbow cracked against a stone. Her breath hitched.

And then—Fingers curled around her wrist, halting her fall with bone-jarring force. Her body jerked, suspended mid-slide, her boots kicking wildly against the slope. Her chest heaved. She looked up.

Silas.

Mud streaked his face, his eyes wild and burning.

"I've got you," he gritted through clenched teeth, hauling her up against him with a strength that made her breath catch. "You're okay."

Behind him, Adrian had moved like a storm, snatching Julia by the waist before she could join the avalanche. He braced two other students with his arms outstretched, blood dotting his knuckles where bark had torn through skin.

The forest had erupted into chaos. But for one breathless, suspended moment—Y/N only saw Silas. Felt his chest rise against hers. His hand still around her wrist like he couldn't let go.

Even when he had to.

★

The hike was cancelled. Obviously.

Half the students limped back to the academy with bruised shins and ruined shoes. The teachers barked about responsibility and safety protocols, but no one listened. Whispers filled the corridors instead—about what had happened. About how it had started.

Others claimed it was a root, or an accident, or her own carelessness. Julia swore she had been pulled, that she looked like someone yanked her by her ankles. "Seriously, are they okay? Strumming my pain with his fingers~"

"Thanks for breaking into song, makes my ankles feel real better?" she huffed.

But the worst part?

Y/N didn't know either.

The sensation of being grabbed—that cold, unnatural clutch on her ankle—still lingered in her skin like frostbite.

And it was only when the class was dismissed, and she'd washed the mud from her hands and wrung out her hair, that she realised: the warning hadn't said why.

Just that she shouldn't go.

And she had.

★

Later that afternoon, when most students had dispersed for lunch or rest, the boys remained behind in the locker room. The tension that had simmered beneath the morning now rose like smoke, thick and choking.

"You're a fucking idiot," Adrian snapped, voice low but lethal. He threw a towel into the basket with more force than necessary. His jaw was rigid. His knuckles white.

Silas leaned back against the lockers, arms crossed, gaze lazy—but his smirk was razor-sharp. "Relax. She's alive, isn't she?"

"Don't," Adrian said, taking a step forward, every inch of his posture bristling with restrained fury. "Don't talk about her like that."

Silas quirked a brow. "Like what? Like she's fragile? She is fragile. One nudge and she nearly took out the whole class. Someone should put a bell on her."

"She was grabbed." Adrian's voice cracked like thunder now, the control slipping. "You think I didn't see it? You think it was an accident?"

Silas didn't blink. "And you think you're the only one who cares?"

That did it.

Adrian surged forward, shoving him once—hard. "I don't care what you think. She's not some game. She's not a pawn in your little power trip. She's mine."

The words rang out like a strike, sharp and unmistakable.

Silas stilled.

For a moment, the only sound was the drip of a leaky shower head somewhere behind them. Then slowly, Silas's smile returned—but this time, it was different. Cold. Amused.

"Yours, is she?" he murmured. "Oh.. And who saved her?"

Adrian didn't flinch. "She doesn't know it yet. But she will."

And with that, he turned and walked out, leaving the silence behind like a crater.

Silas remained against the locker, watching the door.

He didn't smile again. "Fucking idiot."