Episode 6: The Mark
1217 Words
*BLACK CHAIN: A Hudson University Werewolf Saga*
*Hudson University, Morningside Heights. West Hall Basement. School Lounge. Monday, September 15th. 11:47 PM.*
The steam pipes knocked. 11:47 PM. Every hour. The lounge had a heartbeat.
*Alex* couldn’t sleep.
Baggy black hoodie off. Tank top. Locs down, covering half her face. She sat on the cracked tile floor, back against the stolen Alpha Delta Pi rug. Chain cold against her chest.
_Wolf._
_Alpha heir._
_Mate._
Bullsh_t.
She picked up the black feather from the roof. Twirled it. Thorne’s words replayed: _“He’s been watching you since you got here. Leaving you ice. Leaving you feathers. Keeping you alive.”_
Lucian.
Asshole who stole her seat. Rogue. Alpha. _Mate._
She threw the feather across the room.
*Maya Woods* snored on the broken-spring couch. Howard hoodie, bonnet, one gold hoop on the floor. She didn’t remember passing out in The Den. Alex told her it was “gas.”
Gas didn’t explain three men in suits. Gas didn’t explain _“Alpha blood.”_
Gas didn’t explain why Alex’s ribs were already healed from Vanessa’s kick on Friday.
Alex stood. Went to the mini-fridge. Grabbed a Red Bull.
Under the steel door: another gap.
On the concrete, outside:
A notebook. Leather. Old.
On top: another black feather.
Alex ripped the door open.
Empty hallway. One flickering bulb. Pipes sweating.
She grabbed the notebook. Slammed the door.
First page, handwritten:
_“You’re not safe. They’re coming Sept 20th. Midnight. Quarry. Don’t go. —L”_
L.
Lucian.
She flipped the page.
Sketches. Of her. Sleeping on the lounge floor. In the bell tower. At Riverside Park doing pull-ups. At 125th Street, blood on her mouth.
Hundreds of them.
Her hands shook.
_Stalker_, she thought. Then: _No. Protector._
She hated that.
*Hudson University. Hamilton Hall. Tuesday, September 16th. 8:00 AM.*
Room 312.
Alex walked in late. On purpose.
*Lucian Mark* was in _her_ seat. Black tee. Black noise mask. Ice-blue eyes on the window. Like always.
She dropped into the desk behind him. Didn’t slam her duffel. Just sat.
For 10 minutes, silence. Thorne talked about _Frankenstein_. _“The monster and the maker.”_
Alex stared at the back of Lucian’s head. Blond hair. Broad shoulders. Veins in his forearms.
“Why?” she whispered.
So low only a wolf could hear it.
He didn’t turn.
But his shoulders went tight.
“You left the notebook,” she said. “The feathers. The ice. Why?”
Still nothing.
“You called me a _mate_ to Thorne.”
His fist clenched on the desk. Knuckles white.
“You don’t get to watch me,” Alex said. “You don’t get to _mark_ me without asking.”
Now he turned.
Slow.
Ice-blue eyes met hers over the mask.
And for the first time, she _felt_ it.
Not scent. She didn’t have that yet.
_Pressure_. Like the air got heavy. Like the room tipped toward him.
“Didn’t mark you,” Lucian said. Voice gravel. Quiet. “Yet.”
The word _yet_ did something to her ribs. Not fear. Not anger.
Something worse.
*The Den, Cafeteria. 12:03 PM.*
Back table. Dish return.
Maya was there, textbook open. “You’re quiet. That’s scary.”
“Thorne said I’m a wolf,” Alex said.
Maya choked on her shake. “He _what_?”
“Said my dad was. Michelle was. I’m an ‘alpha heir.’ Council wants me by the 20th or they kill Mom.”
Maya went still. “Lex… your brother died at the quarry. Jax Hollow tore his throat out. Everyone in Hyd said Jax went _feral_. Like an animal.”
“Yeah.”
“Lex, what if Jax was—”
“Wolf,” Alex finished.
Click. Click. Click.
*Vanessa Crowe*. Nose still swollen. Covered with makeup. White jeans, pink crop top, ponytail. But no acrylics. Hands still wrapped from Friday.
She didn’t stop at Alex’s table.
She stopped at Lucian’s.
He sat alone. Two tables over. Tray empty. Mask off for once, drinking water.
Alex could see his face.
Jaw sharp. Lips cut. Scar through his left eyebrow. Blond hair falling forward.
He was…
No.
Vanessa leaned down. Whispered something.
Lucian didn’t look at her.
Vanessa touched his arm.
Lucian stood.
He didn’t say anything. Didn’t push her. Just _looked_.
Vanessa stumbled back. Like she’d been shoved.
Her face went white.
She walked off. Fast. *Kayla*, *Tiana*, *Priya*, *Jessica* followed.
“Okay, what the hell was that?” Maya said.
Alex didn’t answer.
Because Lucian was looking at her now.
And she _felt_ it again. That pressure. That _pull_.
*Training Spot #2: Riverside Park. 5:17 AM. Wednesday, September 17th.*
Under the highway. Hudson River black. Rats in the trash.
Alex was on the rusted monkey bars. Pull-up 87. 88. 89.
Hands bleeding. Chain bouncing.
“You’re gonna tear your shoulder.”
She dropped. Landed in a crouch.
*Lucian* stood 20 feet away. Black hoodie up. No mask. Rain from yesterday still on the concrete.
“How long?” Alex said.
“Since you got here.”
“Why didn’t you _talk_ to me?”
“You weren’t ready.”
“I’m not ready now.”
“You will be. Sept 20th.”
Alex stepped forward. “You think I’m gonna let the Council take me to save Hyd?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I know you.”
“How?”
Lucian looked at her. Really looked. Ice-blue eyes, no mask, no walls.
“Because I’ve been watching you fight since you were 16,” he said. “125th Street. Tank’s gym. You went home bleeding and told your friend you fell. You slept on that basement floor so your mom wouldn’t worry. You wear that chain because it’s all you have left of him.”
Alex’s throat closed.
“You don’t get to—”
“I marked you the day you walked into Hamilton,” Lucian said. “Not with teeth. With _choice_. I chose you. And I’ve been keeping you alive since.”
The air went heavy.
Alex felt it. In her teeth. In her chest. In the chain.
_Mate._
No.
“Stay away from me,” she said.
Lucian didn’t move. “Can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because on Sept 20th, you’re gonna shift,” he said. “First shift. No control. You’ll either kill everyone at that quarry, or you’ll die.”
“And you?”
“I’ll be there,” Lucian said. “To stop you. Or to die with you.”
He turned. Walked away.
On the concrete where he stood:
A black feather.
Alex picked it up.
Her fingers wouldn’t stop shaking.
*West Hall Basement. School Lounge. 2:03 AM. Thursday, September 18th.*
Alex couldn’t sleep.
She pulled the chain out from under her tank top.
Thin. Cold. Silver.
She opened it.
It wasn’t a locket. No picture.
It was a _ring_.
A black band, soldered into the chain. Engraved inside:
_“M.W. — A.W. — Always.”_
Michelle Williams. Alexsander Williams. Always.
Her brother’s ring.
Alpha heir.
She closed her fist around it.
And for the first time, the chain went _warm_.
Outside, at the quarry in Hyd, something howled.
Amber eyes. Hungry.
September 20th was two days away.
---
- Writer
