MARKED IN NEON

CHAPTER 3

"That's your Future Luna"

Rylan

The detention room smelled like chalk and dust.

A single ceiling fan groaned above us, moving just enough air to keep the heat from settling. The desks were lined in two uneven rows, a handful of students pretended to read, and the rest just stared into space.

She took the seat beside mine. Of all the empty ones in the room, she picked that one. Or maybe it was the only one left.

Her bag hit the floor with a soft thud. She didn’t look at me. Not once. Her hands were clasped tight on the desk, and that’s when I saw it.

A faint smudge of dried blood across her knuckles.

“Hey,” I said quietly, leaning just enough for my voice to reach her. “You okay?”

Her gaze didn’t move. Just dropped lower, fixed on her hands.

Then, barely above a whisper, “Why did you do that?”

I blinked, pretending not to understand. “Do what?”

Her voice was sharper this time. “You didn’t have to hit him, Rylan. You didn’t have to—”

“Sure, I did,” I cut in. “He had it coming.”

She exhaled, a small sound that was half sigh, half disbelief. I could feel her trying to pull back into herself, the same way she had that night, how her hip swayed in a hypnotic circle, the night that hadn’t left my head since.

So I did what I do best. I deflected.

“Why’d you disappear so fast?” I asked, low enough that only she could hear. “After the club, I mean. One second you were there, then gone.”

Her head jerked up. The color drained from her face, then came rushing back all at once.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said quickly. Too quickly.

“Sure you don’t.”

I tilted my head, trying to study her, the way her breath caught, the way her chest lifted just a little too sharply. Every tell she didn’t want me to notice, I did.

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. I shouldn’t have said it.

But I did anyway.

“Candy.”

The word hung there, warm and reckless.

Her eyes widened. A flush spread across her cheeks, not anger, not entirely.

“Stop calling me that,” she said, louder than she meant to.

Every head in the room turned toward us. Even the teacher looked up from his paper.

Selara froze, then pressed her lips together, staring hard at her desk.

I leaned back in my seat, still watching her, voice barely a whisper now.

“Didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“You didn’t,” she said, though her hands were trembling.

“Good,” I murmured, letting my gaze linger a second too long. “Because I wasn’t done talking yet.”

She glanced sideways at me, eyes wary, curious, alive.

And for the rest of detention, neither of us said another word, but the silence between us was louder than anything else in the room.

The silence stretched just long enough to make her uncomfortable again, so I leaned forward, elbows on my desk.

“I didn’t know you could hit back, Shawty,” I said under my breath, just loud enough for her to hear.

Her head snapped up. That small frown, part irritation, part disbelief, was almost worth the bruise on my knuckles.

“Stop,” she muttered, but there was a flicker at the corner of her mouth, like she was trying not to smile.

“What?” I asked, feigning innocence.

“That,” she said, pointing slightly toward me with her pen. “The… nickname thing. And the tone.”

I smirked. “You mean my voice?”

She rolled her eyes, looking back down at her notebook. “My name is Selara.”

“I know,” I said easily. “Doesn’t mean I can’t call you something else.”

Her pen paused mid-line. She turned her head just enough to look at me, really look, and for a second neither of us moved. Her eyes were steady, a color I couldn’t decide between amber and gold, and something about it made everything else in the room go quiet.

Then came the throat-clearing.

Loud, deliberate.

Jax.

Of course.

He was sitting two rows behind us, pretending to work but grinning like an i***t.

“Some of us are trying to serve detention in peace,” he said.

Selara snapped her attention back to her desk so fast it almost made me laugh. She opened her assignment book with more force than necessary and started scribbling something down, her pen moving way too fast to be legible.

I leaned back, watching her for a second before lowering my voice again.

“You always get this defensive when someone talks to you, or is it just me?”

She didn’t look up. “Just you.”

“Ouch.”

“Good.”

Her hand kept moving across the page, but I could see the way her shoulders tensed when I leaned in a little closer.

“You know,” I murmured, “for someone who says she doesn’t want to talk, you’re really bad at ignoring people.”

That earned me a quiet huff; not quite a laugh, but close enough to count.

I didn’t push further after that. I just sat back and let the silence settle again, a little softer this time. She wrote, pretending to be focused. I pretended not to notice the way her pen slowed down every time I glanced her way.

By the time the clock hit the hour, the tension had shifted, not gone, just… different.

And for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t sure if I wanted detention to end.

The bell finally rang. Chairs scraped, books slammed shut, and everyone rushed for the door like the room was on fire.

Selara was halfway out before her friend caught up to her. I didn’t catch her name, something short and sharp

But her voice carried.

“So, detention with him?” she said, eyes darting toward me. “Guess you like danger now.”

Selara muttered something under her breath, too quiet to hear, and the girl laughed. “Careful. First, he fights for you, next thing you know, you’re in the rumor mill.”

She threw me a look, that knowing, smug kind of look, and pulled Selara along down the hall.

Jax whistled low beside me. “Looks like you made an impression, boss.”

I shot him a sideways glance. “You think?”

He grinned. “Come on, man. You went full wolf on that kid this morning. Now you’re talking to the girl in detention like she’s the only one in the room. So yeah, I’m asking, What’s the deal with the chick?”

I should’ve brushed it off. Should’ve said nothing, because it wasn’t supposed to mean anything yet.

But the words slipped out before I could stop them.

“That,” I said quietly, watching Selara disappear around the corner, “is your future Luna.”

For a second, Jax just blinked at me. Then he jolted upright. “You said what?”

I kept walking. “You heard me.”

“Future Luna?” he repeated, nearly tripping over his own feet. “Rylan, you can’t, you barely know her! You sure you’re not mixing up instinct with insanity?”

I didn’t answer. The corner of my mouth twitched because, honestly, maybe he was right.

But the pull in my chest said otherwise.

Detention had emptied, but I could still feel the static from earlier, the echo of Selara’s voice, the weight in her eyes when she looked at me like she was trying to figure out what I was.

Jax walked beside me, hands shoved into his hoodie pocket, his expression torn somewhere between amusement and disbelief.

“That's why you went full alpha on that guy,” he muttered. “One minute you’re chilling, next thing I know, blood’s flying.”

"Did he deserve it, even with that loud mouth?" his eyes subtly checking out a brunette laughing with her friends on the cheer team.

“He touched her,” I said flatly.

He raised a brow. “Yeah, but detention wasn’t exactly on the to-do list.”

I didn’t bother answering. My knuckles were already proof that logic hadn’t been part of the decision.

We turned a corner, heading toward the exit. The fluorescent lights flickered above, humming like they could feel the tension too.

“Man,” Jax said, shaking his head, “Your dad’s gonna lose his damn mind when he hears about this. He already thinks you’re out here wasting time.”

I snorted. “He thinks breathing around humans is wasting time.”

“Because he’s a condescending motherf—” Jax stopped, lowering his voice. “You know what I mean. The guy treats the pack like it’s the seventeenth century. No flexibility, no strategy, just fear and brute force.”

He wasn’t wrong. Alpha Kane also known as my father, had built everything on dominance and bloodlines, and he expected me to follow without question. Every order, every look, was a test, a reminder that he didn't believe I was ready to lead yet.

“He’s making risky moves again,” Jax went on. “I heard he sent scouts past the East Creek border last week.”

“Yeah. Two didn’t come back.”

Jax’s jaw tightened. “Rogues?”

“Probably. Or worse.”

We reached the glass doors at the end of the hall. Outside, the sky had turned a bruised shade of purple, dusk bleeding into night. The air smelled like metal and rain.

“Can’t believe I had to transfer mid-term just for this,” Jax muttered.

I glanced at him. “You’re the one who volunteered.”

He huffed a laugh. “Yeah, because your father wanted someone to ‘keep an eye on the heir apparent.’ He made it sound like a vacation.”

I could still hear the argument in my head, the way my father’s voice filled the packhouse.

Rylan is distracted. He’s getting soft. The rogues are multiplying, and my son is chasing sports and human girls.

Jax had stepped up before someone else could. Then I’ll go. Someone’s gotta make sure he doesn’t do something risky.

As if.

He’d arrived two days later, a black shirt and whitewashed jeans, same fake transfer papers, same permanent scowl.

“You know,” Jax said now, leaning against the door frame, “he’s still making the rounds at home. Acting like sending me here was some noble mission. The pack’s getting restless, Ry. They’re not used to this kind of tension.”

“I know.”

“You plan on doing something about it?”

I met his gaze. “Yeah. We’ll head back this weekend. I’ll talk to him.”

He raised a brow. “Talk? Or throw hands?”

“Depends on how loud he gets.”

Jax barked a laugh, the sudden spring in his walk was an obvious excitement at the prospect. “You two are gonna end up on opposite sides one day. You know that, right?”

“Maybe,” I said, half-smiling. “But not today.”

We stepped outside. The late evening air hit cool and sharp, carrying that faint electric hum I’d come to recognize, the kind that prickled under the skin when something off was nearby. Not close, not yet, but watching.

“You’re still playing football?” Jax asked, changing the subject after exchanging eye contact, Th

“Yeah. Tryouts tomorrow.”

He groaned. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. And you’re coming with me.”

“What?”

“You need something to do besides babysit me and gossip about pack politics. You’ve got the build for it, linebacker, easy.”

He stared at me for a long second, then chuckled. “You really think a little football’s gonna keep your dad off your back?”

“No,” I said, smirking. “But it’ll piss him off, which is close enough.”

Jax shook his head, still laughing under his breath. Then his eyes narrowed, playfully turning thoughtful. “You sure about that girl?”

“What girl?” I asked, knowing damn well which one.

He gave me a look. “Don’t start. You called her your Luna back there. Twice.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to.

“You don’t even know her,” he pressed. “What if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You said that like you felt it.”

“I did.”

Something flickered across his face, respect, maybe worry. He didn’t push it. Just nodded slowly and looked toward the parking lot.

The sky had gone dark. Somewhere beyond the tree line, I caught a low, distant howl. Too faint for human ears.

Jax heard it too.

“Rogues?” he asked quietly.

“Yep.” They crawled over here just a few hours after Jax. The chances they followed his scent, or they were here for a different reason, wasn't a perception I left for fate to decide, I didn't believe in coincidence.

Not anymore.

The sun was sinking behind the school buildings, spilling a warm orange glow across the courtyard. The tall trees lining the campus caught the light, their leaves turning gold at the edges. Shadows stretched long over the walkways, students drifting through them like moving silhouettes. Everything felt quieter, softer, the whole campus exhaling as the day finally let go

I exhaled, feeling the pull in my chest, the one that always came before the moon rose.

“Let’s go,” I said finally. “You’re signing up tomorrow. And after that, we head home.”

He smirked. “Yeah, Alpha.”

I shot him a dark look and led the way.