MARKED IN NEON

CHAPTER 2

“Detention Never Looked This Bloody.”

Rylan’s POV

I should’ve gone home after the fight. Should’ve walked away before my wolf made a mess of everything.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I stalked her.

Her scent was impossible to ignore, honeysuckle laced with something warmer, like fire under sweetness. It clung to me from the club, threaded through my veins. My wolf tracked it easily, hungry, relentless, like the bond had already locked into place.

I kept my distance. Shadows swallowed me as I followed her through quiet neighborhoods, watching her figure move under the streetlights until she reached a small house.

She paused at the door, her shoulders tense, her head turning like she felt something. My wolf pushed hard against the surface, desperate to step out, desperate to claim. I forced him down, breathing harshly in my throat.

Not yet.

I watched her disappear inside. A light flicked on in a window, warm and soft against the night. “Mine,” he growled in my head, again and again, a drumbeat that kept me awake long after I walked away.

When morning came, I hadn’t slept. My body was restless, wired from hours of replaying the way she danced, the way her eyes had cut through the crowd like she’d known I was there.

At school, I sat in the back of class, pretending to listen, my wolf agitated by the press of so many bodies and scents. My beta had warned me I was too on edge lately, that my temper was showing. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t.

Because then, her scent hit me.

Before I even saw her.

My head snapped up, nostrils flaring. Honeysuckle. Sweet. Sharp. My muscles tightened like I’d been struck.

And then she walked in. Selara.

Her friends trailed beside her, dressed in black like they were prepping for a funeral, chattering about ghosts and curses. I barely registered them. My focus tunneled to her, messy hair, glasses sliding down her nose, lips parted like she was catching her breath.

And then her gaze lifted.

Our eyes collided.

For a split second, the world stopped. The walls, the voices, the shifting air, all of it fell away. All I could see was her. Wide eyes, pupils dilating, like her body knew before her mind did.

Her lips parted in the faintest gasp, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. I didn’t know if she was scared, or shocked, or something else, but she didn’t look away. Neither did I

My wolf slammed against me, Mate.

Her friend bumped her shoulder, saying something I didn’t catch, and the moment snapped. Selara tore her gaze away and slipped into a seat near the middle row. Her friends sat beside her, still whispering, something about nightmares this time, shadows in hallways. None of it mattered. All I saw was the tight set of her shoulders and the way her pulse fluttered in her throat.

I forced myself to breathe.

Dr. Maren walked in with his usual stack of mismatched papers and clapped his hands once. “Morning, boys and girls. I know you all have the attention span of wet paper, but I expect at least ten functioning brains today.”

Groans rippled through the room. Carter raised his hand, dead serious. “Okay, but… what if we only have eight?”

“Then share with someone who has more than you,” the professor shot back.

'Today we’re covering instinctive body language: How the body reacts before the mind catches up.”

My jaw tensed.

Of all the days to talk about that.

Chairs scraped. Someone yawned loudly. Carter leaned over from the next seat, whispering, “Bro, you look like you’re about to flip this desk.”

I ignored him. My focus was locked on Selara, on the way she straightened in her seat whenever the professor spoke, on the way her fingers tapped her notebook like she was trying to ground herself. Like she felt something. Like she felt me.

“The eyes respond first,” Dr. Maren continued. “When you see someone you’re drawn to, pupils dilate, even if you’re unaware of it.”

Her head lifted. Just barely.

My wolf pushed hard, a low growl rumbling under my skin.

She felt that.

I knew she did.

One of her friends snickered at something on her phone, the sound too loud in the quiet room. Selara didn’t smile. Didn’t flinch. She was too still, like every sense in her body had narrowed to the space between us.

“The second instinctive reaction,” the professor said, pacing across the front, “is orientation. You lean toward the person, even subtly. Shoulders, knees, chest. Your body betrays your interest.”

Carter immediately leaned toward Griffin, “So you’re in love with me.”

Griffin shoved him. “Lean again and I’ll break your nose.”

Half the class laughed.

I didn’t.

Because my body had already betrayed me.

I’d leaned forward without realizing, toward her, toward the space she occupied, toward the scent that kept pulling at me like a hook under my ribs.

And she noticed.

Selara glanced back, eyes flicking to my posture, then to my face.

A spark, small but sharp, jumped between us.

My breath stilled.

She looked away too fast, pretending to adjust her glasses, but her hand shook. Barely. But enough.

Dr. Maren kept talking, oblivious. “The body always knows first. Instinct recognizes connection or danger before thought ever forms.”

Mate, my wolf echoed, softer this time, like even he was holding his breath.

Selara’s shoulders rose and fell in a shallow, uneven inhale.

Yeah.

Her body knew too.

Selara's POV

The bell shrieked, and chaos poured into the halls. My chest still throbbed from Dr. Maren’s class, my nerves wound tight from every sharp word and gesture he’d thrown at the students. Thank God he hadn’t singled me out, hadn’t made me do anything weird, like stare at someone or demonstrate posture while the whole class watched. My pulse still hammered at the thought.

I clutched my books tighter, trying to melt into the flow of students, but then he was there.

Rylan Vale.

Standing like he owned the hallway, eyes locked forward, muscles coiled just slightly beneath his sweater.

His eyes locked on me, molten gold under the harsh fluorescents. Too sharp. Too knowing.

“Candy.”

The word slid out of his mouth like sin, low and deliberate. My stomach dropped. My throat went dry.

Nobody at school called me that. Nobody at school was supposed to know.

My friends blinked at me, confusion painted across their goth-lined faces. “Wait… what did he just say?” one of them whispered.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My body had gone rigid, my heart ricocheting against my ribs hard enough, I thought everyone could hear it.

Rylan tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly as if he could see through every wall I’d built, every mask I’d worn. His voice was rough, low, too intimate for a hallway packed with gawking students.

And then the laugh. That stupid, sarcastic, crawling-under-your-skin laugh.

Chad Mercer.

“Well, well,” he sneered, stepping up just far enough to get Rylan’s attention. “Looks like someone’s too scared to walk alone.”

Rylan’s jaw clenched immediately. I felt it like electricity running down my spine.

“You talking to me?” Rylan said, calm, low, but every word sharp.

Chad smirked, leaning closer. “Didn't think ice prince like cheap company?” His gaze flicked to me, cruel and testing.

“Selara,” one of my friends hissed, tugging my sleeve, “Ignore him. Please. He’s not worth it.”

I wanted to. God, I wanted to just shove my glasses higher, duck my head, and walk away. But my legs wouldn’t move. Because Rylan hadn’t moved. The air around him thickened, controlled, coiled energy.

“Back off,” he said.

Chad laughed, dark and mocking. “Or what? You gonna teach me a lesson? Scare me with your little temper?”

The words hit like fuel on fire.

“You don’t get to talk to her like that,” Rylan said, voice low but lethal.

Chad’s grin faltered only slightly. “Or what? You gonna do something about it?”

That was all it took.

Chad shoved first, sharp and aggressive, trying to force Rylan off balance.

Rylan didn’t flinch. He moved like he had anticipated it, pivoting just enough to let Chad’s momentum carry him forward. Then he grabbed Chad’s wrist, not harshly, but with a grip that made Chad falter.

“You don’t get to talk to her like that,” Rylan repeated, low, steady.

Chad yanked his arm free, smirking, trying to mask his surprise. “Or what? You’re gonna cry? Or you gonna—”

He never finished. Rylan’s fist met his shoulder with a solid, controlled thump that knocked him backward a step. The crowd gasped, some cheering, some pulling out phones.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away. My stomach twisted, my chest tight, but it wasn’t fear, not entirely. It was… awe. The way Rylan moved, every strike precise, deliberate, coiled like a spring ready to snap.

Chad stumbled, but he wasn’t done. He shoved Rylan again, this time with more force. Words flew between them, sharp, cutting, full of anger.

“You think you’re better than me?” Chad snarled, teeth clenched.

“I don’t think,” Rylan said, calm, voice low and dangerous. “I know.”

Chad’s grin slipped into a snarl. “You’re just a spoiled brat who thinks he can—”

“You still don’t get to talk about her,” Rylan cut him off, and then everything broke loose.

The first punch came fast, controlled, a precise strike to Chad’s chest. He staggered, but retaliated, swinging blindly. Rylan moved with fluid precision, not wild, not careless, each block, each strike measured, fueled by Chad’s own aggression.

The crowd’s shouts blurred into background noise. The hallway erupted. Screams, gasps, and way too many idiots pulling out their phones to record. My friends clutched at me, whispering frantic warnings, “Holy s**t, holy s**t—he’s going to kill him,”

But I couldn’t move. I was rooted to the spot, heart hammering, eyes locked on him. Every movement, every strike, every flare of anger, it was all for me.

Chad spat a curse, blood mixing with spit, and lunged. Rylan sidestepped, pivoted, and shoved him into the lockers with a controlled shove that rattled the metal. His gold eyes burned, focused, coiled, and dangerous, but never left me.

“You’re pathetic,” Chad hissed, trying to swing again.

Rylan blocked, countered, a sharp jab to Chad’s side that made him stumble again. The fight wasn’t about brute force—it was about control. Chad had aggression, but Rylan had precision, focus, and an edge that made the entire hallway feel smaller, tighter, heavier.

Because Rylan wasn’t just fighting. He was unleashed.

His eyes.

God, his eyes weren’t normal anymore. For a heartbeat, they glowed, catching on me even as his fist connected again.

“Rylan! Enough!”

The voice cut sharply through the chaos. I turned just in time to see him, tall, broad, his steps calm but heavy with authority. His hair was darker than Rylan’s, his jaw harder, his eyes cold as stone. He moved like someone who didn’t need to raise his voice to be obeyed.

And somehow… he stopped Rylan.

The stranger’s hand clamped on Rylan’s arm mid-swing. For a split second, Rylan froze, his muscles strained, teeth bared, but then he stilled. Just like that. Like this, man was the only leash that could hold him.

Rylan froze instantly, muscles coiled like springs snapping back into place. Chad slumped, breathing hard, bloodied but still defiant.

The principal’s voice suddenly cut through the chaos. “Enough! Now!”

Teachers surged forward, separating them, but Rylan didn’t move from his stance until one of the staff had a firm grip on him.

Through it all, his eyes never left mine. Even as they pulled him back, restrained, furious, the world shrank to the space between us.

I shivered, heart still racing, stomach twisted. Not from fear, not entirely, but because even in chaos, in blood and sweat and shouts, Rylan Vale had only ever looked at me.

And that thought… it both terrified me and made my pulse spike in ways I couldn’t name.