Chapter 3
1308 Words
Chapter 3: The Wolves Close In Further
Rihanna’s POV
I shove Troy harder this time, putting every ounce of frustration into it. “Back. Off.”
He stumbles a little, his grin flickering before snapping back in place. “Feisty,” he says, straightening his jacket like I just brushed dirt off him instead of shoving him with both hands. “I like that.”
“Do I look like I care what you like?” I snap, clenching my fists at my sides. My pulse is thundering so hard I swear he can hear it.
He tilts his head, eyes narrowing like he’s actually thinking about it. “Yeah. I think you do.”
I blink, caught off guard. My brain short-circuits for half a second before I snap back. “Wrong. I don’t care about you, your brother, or your stupid wolf games.”
His grin sharpens. “Liar.”
The bell rings overhead, loud and shrill, and I seize the chance to walk away. My legs move fast, each step harder than the last as I storm down the hall. Don’t look back. Don’t look back.
But I can feel him watching me, his gaze like heat on the back of my neck.
---
The rest of the school day is a blur of math problems I can’t focus on and teachers droning on about holiday break. I’m too aware of everything — every glance, every whispered word from the other students.
“She really kissed both of them?”
“Lucky.”
“Or cursed.”
I keep my head down, jaw tight, pretending I don’t hear them. But each word cuts a little deeper. By lunchtime, I’m ready to disappear into the shadows.
Clara finds me at the edge of the courtyard, sitting on a stone bench under the bare branches of an old oak tree. She plops down next to me, balancing a tray of cafeteria food on her lap. “You look like you’re ready to burn something down,” she says, biting into an apple.
“Thinking about it,” I mutter, picking at the hem of my sleeve.
“Let me guess.” She flicks her gaze toward the other end of the courtyard where Roy and Troy sit, surrounded by their little pack of friends. They’re laughing like they don’t have a care in the world. Like they didn’t just flip my whole world upside down.
“Bingo,” I mutter. “They’re everywhere, Clara. I swear they’re stalking me.”
“Of course they are,” she says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She pops a fry into her mouth, chewing slowly like she’s about to drop some ancient wisdom. “They’re alphas, Rihanna. They don’t chase. They claim.”
“Not me,” I snap, heat flaring in my chest. “I’m not something to be claimed.”
“Maybe not,” she says with a shrug. “But tell them that.”
I glance over at them again, and that’s when it happens. Roy looks up, straight at me. Like he knew I’d be watching. His eyes lock onto mine, cool and sharp like steel.
I refuse to look away. I’m not afraid of you, Blackwood.
A slow smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, and just like that, I’m furious all over again.
“Ugh,” I hiss, shoving myself to my feet. “I’m done with this.”
“Where are you going?” Clara asks, stuffing another fry in her mouth.
“Anywhere but here,” I mutter, and I’m gone before she can say another word.
---
After school, I walk home with my hood up, hands shoved deep in my coat pockets. The cold air burns my cheeks, but it feels good. Sharp. Real. Not like the chaos swirling in my head.
I’m halfway down Sycamore Street when I hear footsteps behind me. Heavy. Steady. Too steady.
I glance over my shoulder. No one there.
My heart starts to race. I walk faster, eyes darting to every shadow, every tree, every parked car. Calm down. You’re being paranoid.
The footsteps follow. Closer this time.
I whip around, ready to fight, but no one’s there. Just empty streetlights and soft piles of snow. My breath fogs the air, and I listen hard, ears straining for the sound. Nothing. Just you and your overactive imagination.
I turn back and keep walking, faster now, my eyes locked on the street ahead. But my heart doesn’t slow down.
“Scared, Calloway?”
I freeze. That voice. I know that voice.
Slowly, I turn around, and there he is. Troy. He’s leaning against a tree on the side of the road, arms crossed, grin lazy and sharp like he’s been there for hours.
“Didn’t your mom ever teach you not to follow girls home?” I snap, taking a step back.
He raises an eyebrow. “Who says I’m following? Maybe I just happen to be walking this way.”
“Sure,” I say, voice flat. “And maybe I’m the queen of England.”
He chuckles, pushing off the tree and walking toward me. His steps are slow, easy, but I don’t miss the way his eyes track my every move. Like he’s a wolf, and I’m the rabbit that just wandered too close.
“Relax, Calloway,” he says, hands in his jacket pockets. “If I wanted to hurt you, you’d know by now.”
“That supposed to make me feel better?”
He shrugs. “It’s the truth.”
I glare at him, my fists curling. “Why are you here, Troy?”
He stops a few feet away, close enough for me to see the way the cold air fogs his breath. He tilts his head, his eyes bright with something I don’t understand.
“Wanted to see something,” he says, voice quieter now. Serious.
“See what?” I snap.
“If you’d run,” he says simply.
My chest tightens, but I don’t move. I hold my ground, eyes locked on his.
“I’m not running,” I say, voice firm as steel.
He steps closer, slow and steady like he’s testing me. “No,” he murmurs, eyes scanning my face. “You’re not.”
We stare at each other, and I feel something shift in the air between us. It’s not cold anymore. It’s hot, electric, like lightning about to strike.
His eyes flick to my lips. No. No way.
I take a step back, heart pounding like a drum. “Don’t even think about it, Troy.”
He grins like I just gave him an idea. “Too late.”
Before I can react, he moves — fast, faster than anyone has a right to be. He’s in front of me in a heartbeat, one hand on my wrist, the other tilting my chin up.
“Don’t,” I say, voice sharp but not as strong as I want it to be.
He pauses, eyes flicking to mine. He’s so close I can see the gold flecks in his brown eyes. His grin softens, his gaze intense in a way that makes my breath hitch.
“You’re fun, Calloway,” he says softly, like it’s some kind of confession. “I like fun.”
And just like that, he lets go.
He takes a step back, hands up like he’s surrendering. “See you around, Rabbit.”
Then he’s gone, walking away like he didn’t just leave me standing there, heart pounding, mind spinning, lips tingling like he’d actually kissed me.
I stand there for a long time, watching his figure disappear down the street. I should feel relieved. I should feel safe.
But I don’t.
Because I know one thing for sure.
This isn’t over.
- Writer
