Page 39

ETHAN'S POV

Two weeks passed since the trip and my father's departure, and life settled into something resembling normal. If normal meant early morning drills, late-night workouts, and bruises that painted my arms like battle scars. The big game was closing in fast, and every muscle in my body screamed at me to rest, but Max wouldn’t let me slack.

“Again,” he barked, tossing the football back at me. The sun dipped lower, casting giant shadows over the field. Most of the team had left, but Max and I stayed. He always stayed.

I rolled my shoulders and exhaled. “You trying to kill me before the game?”

“Just making sure you don’t embarrass yourself,” he shot back, grinning. “Now throw.”

I adjusted my grip and focused on the target, a tattered red cone at the far end of the field. My fingers burned from gripping the ball for hours, but I threw anyway. The ball cut through the air, spiraling cleanly before landing dead center.

Max let out a low whistle. “That’s more like it.”

I smirked and wiped sweat from my forehead. “You doubted me?”

“Nah, but I like to remind you that you’re a demon.” He cracked his knuckles. “Unlike me.”

I laughed, shaking my head. The floodlights flickered on, casting a dull yellow glow over the empty bleachers. It was just us now, the stadium silent except for our breathing.

I stretched my arms and glanced toward the school. “You think Clark is still in detention?”

Max scoffed. “That nerd lives there now. Not that you’d know, since you haven’t talked to him.”

I rolled my eyes. “He’s the one avoiding me.”

“Can you blame him?” Max arched an eyebrow. “He doesn’t trust jocks. And considering your history, I wouldn’t be surprised if he thinks you’re just like your old man.”

Something twisted in my gut. I clenched my jaw, my fingers tightening around the football. And for a moment there was a flash of my father's cold eyes.

“I’m not,” I said, my voice sharper than I meant.

Max raised his hands in mock surrender. “Didn’t say you were.”

I exhaled through my nose and turned back to the field. Clark had been acting strange since the trip—not that he was ever the warm-and-fuzzy type to begin with. But now, he didn’t just keep his distance—he acted like I wasn’t even there.

He switched seats in class, avoided eye contact, and found reasons to leave the moment I walked into a room. At first, I chalked it up to Clark being, well, Clark. But now…

Now, I couldn’t ignore the pattern. Not after what I said. Not after I asked him to be my mate.

I tossed the football in the air, catching it on the way down. “You think he actually hates me?” Max tilted his head, considering. “Clark hates a lot of things. Jocks are just at the top of the list.”

I let out a dry laugh. “Thanks for the encouragement.”

“Anytime.”

We went for another round of throws before finally calling it a night. I pulled off my jersey, letting the cold air hit my skin. My arms ached, and my legs felt like lead, but I wasn’t ready to head home just yet.

Frankly, the mansion felt emptier without my father around, not that he was ever good at filling it. But there was this shadow of his presence that always did.

Max nudged my shoulder. “You coming or what?”

I blinked, realizing I had zoned out. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

We grabbed our stuff and walked toward the parking lot. A few students lingered near the school entrance, some heading home, others waiting for rides. I scanned the area, half-expecting to see Clark, but there was no sign of him.

I frowned. “You sure he’s in detention?”

Max shrugged. “Where else would he be?”

Good question.

I ran a hand through my damp hair, feeling restless. I wasn’t used to people avoiding me. Clark wasn’t my best friend or anything, but the silence was different—too deliberate. Like he was trying to erase me without making a scene.

I kinda wanted to know why he refused to be my mate. Just… hear it from him. But some other part of me—colder, meaner—kept whispering that I shouldn’t even care. That if he didn’t want me, then fine. Let him keep running.

Then, just when I thought I wasn't meant to see him today, I saw him.

Clark, all the way at the far end of the parking lot, walking toward the gates with that same stiff posture of someone trying to disappear into the world.

I stood there watching him, fighting the urge of walking towards him and seeking some clarifications. I wanted the “whys” in my head all answered.

But then, I saw him.

A man in a hoodie, just barely visible from the corner of my eye, trailing behind Clark by a good distance.

He was too far to make out any details, but I didn’t need to.

The way he moved—slow, deliberate, like he was just waiting for the right moment to pounce.

Furthermore, there was something else. A scent.

Not Sulphur, not quite human. Wrong. it set off a cold alarm in my chest.

I instinctively picked up my pace, my mind racing. Clark hadn’t noticed him yet, and that bugged me even more. Why wasn’t he paying attention? Was he just lost in his own world, or was something else going on?

The man in the hoodie took another slow step, and I felt my pulse pick up. This wasn’t just some random guy. Something about his movements felt deliberate, too precise to be coincidence. I had to get closer, but I didn’t want to alert either of them to my presence.

I ducked behind a row of cars, trying to get a better look.

Clark reached the gate, pausing for a moment. I swore I saw him glance over his shoulder, but if he saw the man, he didn’t react. The man, however, was still moving in a steady, stalking rhythm, closing the gap slowly.

I couldn’t just stay there and watch. Screw it. I didn't care if he hated me. I wasn't letting him get hurt. Without thinking, I made my move.