Fated to a Human

Chapter 16

The California sun beat down on the courtyard, its warmth radiating off the concrete as students spilled from the cafeteria with trays of food and iced drinks. Nathan, Peter, and Rory had claimed their usual spot—an old stone picnic table nestled beneath the shade of a tall oak tree near the edge of campus.

Peter was halfway through a kale smoothie he claimed was for “gut cleansing,” while Nathan shoveled through his tray stacked with two burgers, fries, and a protein bar like he hadn’t eaten in days.

Rory, seated across from them with her boots propped on the edge of the bench, toyed with a piece of grilled chicken and rice, clearly lost in thought.

Across the courtyard, a handful of adults and student council members were already hanging colorful banners, stringing up fairy lights between lampposts and draping posters from windows that read in gold glitter:

“Midnight Masquerade – Prom 2025”

Rory groaned, lowering her fork. “Seriously? They’re setting up already? It’s not for another two weeks.”

Peter clasped his hands dramatically. “Darling, it’s called ambience. Also, do you know how hard it is to find a tux that makes my ass look good? A boy needs time.”

Nathan chuckled, biting into a fry. “Pretty sure that’s not what prom is supposed to be about.”

Peter waved him off. “That’s exactly what it’s about. Looking amazing, being dramatic, and dancing like no one’s judging you while everyone’s judging you.”

Rory rolled her eyes. “Sounds exhausting.”

Peter tilted his head at her. “What, you’re not excited? You could totally rock some dark goddess masquerade vibes. Black gown, lace mask, stilettos, maybe a dagger strapped to your thigh—”

Rory smirked. “You think I need prom to wear a dagger on my thigh?”

Peter pointed at her. “This is why I love you.”

Nathan leaned forward, rubbing the back of his neck. “I never really got the hype around it either. Prom’s always felt… forced. Fake smiles, overpriced suits, and cheap decorations in a gym that still smells like feet and disappointment.”

Peter gasped like he’d been stabbed. “You take that back, Nathan Grey! Prom is sacred.”

Nathan chuckled again. “You’re just excited for the afterparty.”

Peter grinned unapologetically. “Guilty.”

Rory picked up a grape and popped it in her mouth. “I’ve never been to a school dance. When I lived in Texas, I homeschooled the last couple of years. Too much drama in public school. That and… I didn’t really want to go alone.”

Nathan looked up from his tray, brow furrowed slightly. “So, you’ve never been to a dance?”

Rory shrugged like it didn’t matter. “Not my thing.”

But Nathan noticed the way her voice lowered a little, how she glanced away at the kids laughing and pointing at dresses on their phones and couples walking hand-in-hand through the courtyard. Something about her tone said it wasn’t about the dance at all—it was about never feeling like she belonged.

Peter noticed it too. He leaned his elbow on the table and gave her a soft smile. “Well, maybe this year’s different.”

She looked at him. “How?”

He shot her a knowing glance. “You’ve got us now, image it, going to prom with two insanely hot guys.”

Nathan looked between the two of them and smiled faintly, but his stomach twisted with something he couldn’t quite name. He wasn’t sure if it was the pull of the bond to Rory or the unfamiliar flutter of nerves that came with thinking about asking her to prom.

Because the idea had started forming the second he saw that banner… and he didn’t hate it.

Not one bit.

---

The bus pulled into the sleepy California town with a low screech of worn-out brakes. Dust kicked up from the side of the road as its doors hissed open and passengers trickled out—tourists, locals, people who didn’t want to be noticed.

And then there was her.

She stepped off the bus without a word, a black duffel slung over one shoulder and a tight leather jacket hugging her lean, muscular frame. Long jet-black hair fell in a loose braid down her back, and her skin was a sun-warmed bronze—rich and smooth, with sharp cheekbones and dark, piercing eyes that didn’t seem to blink. A small scar cut through her right eyebrow, and a thin tattoo of a crescent moon curled behind her left ear.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t smile.

The girl moved with quiet calculation, the way predators did—silent and fluid, like she didn’t cast a shadow even in full sun.

Zara. The Zeta of the Blood Moon pack. A brutal enforcer. Loyal only to Jack Carson.

And now, she was here.

Her combat boots hit the pavement softly as she walked down the sidewalk, blending in just enough to seem like any other new arrival, but different enough that people turned to look again without knowing why. She passed the school campus on foot, her expression unreadable, dark eyes scanning, studying.

She was here to observe. Not to be seen.

Not yet.

---

Back at the school, the bell rang overhead and students began clearing out of the courtyard. Nathan, Peter, and Rory were finishing up lunch, slowly walking toward the trash bins near the cafeteria. Peter was in the middle of a dramatic retelling of a failed Tinder date involving a bodybuilder with no neck.

Rory was laughing.

Nathan smiled at the sound. It was real, full—one of those laughs that bubbled from her stomach and made him want to hear it again and again.

He tossed his empty tray into the bin, wiping his hands on a napkin… when he suddenly stopped.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose.

His entire body tensed, just enough for him to go still.

A slow, subtle wave of warning rolled down his spine. He didn’t see anything. Didn’t hear anything.

But something wasn’t right.

Something was watching.

Not with the eyes of a student or a nosy teacher—but with precision. Hunger. A cold intelligence.

His wolf stirred instantly, just under the surface of his skin, rising like a ripple in still water. The beast didn’t roar or snarl—it watched back.

Nathan’s jaw clenched, and his shoulders shifted slightly, instinctively squaring like he was preparing for a fight. He scanned the open area but saw nothing. No eyes on him. No strangers in sight.

But he felt it.

Whoever it was… it wasn’t human.

Peter noticed first. “Dude? You good?”

Nathan blinked, forcing the tension from his shoulders. He managed a quick nod. “Yeah. Just… thought I saw someone I knew.”

Rory’s brow furrowed slightly. “You sure?”

Nathan offered a tight smile. “Yeah. I’m good.”

But he wasn’t.

He didn’t know how, or why—but something had changed in the air.

Something dangerous had just arrived.

---

Zara crouched silently on the rooftop of the school gymnasium, completely still, eyes locked on the courtyard below.

She didn’t blink.

She didn’t breathe unless she had to.

She just watched.

Nathan Grey.

So this was the rogue pup Jack had warned her about. The one who had escaped death, abandoned his pack, and was now living like some pampered human brat under the sun.

Pathetic.

Zara’s lip curled slightly. Not quite a smile. More like the flicker of a snarl.

He looked… normal. Ridiculously so. Tall, lean muscle, cocky grin—just another arrogant male dripping in false confidence. Laughing with his little friends. Clueless.

But underneath, she could see it.

The way he moved—how his body responded before his brain did.

His instincts were sharp.

She watched the moment it hit him. That jolt of awareness.

He had felt her presence.

That was rare.

Not many ever did before it was too late.

Still, he hadn’t found her. He didn’t know where she was. That was a weakness she could exploit. His wolf might be strong, but the boy? Still soft. Undisciplined. Emotional.

He would fold.

They all did.

Zara’s eyes narrowed as she shifted slightly, resting her weight on the balls of her feet. Her senses flared again—catching the way Nathan had stepped protectively closer to the girl beside him. Mate? she wondered with a flicker of curiosity. She studied the girl—pretty, human, unaware.

Interesting.

If that was true… that made everything easier.

Zara didn’t kill for fun. She didn’t kill for cruelty.

She killed because it was necessary. Because weakness had no place in a world ruled by alphas. Jack had pulled her from a cage when she was a child—trained her to be his shadow, his weapon, his monster. In return, she gave him everything.

Obedience.

Violence.

Loyalty.

Emotion was a disease. Affection? Distraction. Love? A leash.

She would never be leashed again.

Zara’s hand instinctively touched the long, jagged scar that ran down her side beneath her jacket—an old wound from an alpha who tried to take what wasn’t his.

She made sure his throat was ripped out by morning.

Now her mission was clear.

Study Nathan Grey. Learn him. Break him. Kill him.

And if the rumors were true—if he really was the one the prophecy spoke of—then all the more reason to end him before he realized what he was.

Before he became something even she couldn’t destroy.

But not yet.

No… she would wait. Watch.

Zara grinned, finally.

The kind of grin that promised blood.