Wolves of blackbridge

Nate woke to the scent of damp earth and pine. The crisp morning air chilled his skin, but the fire inside him still burned. His head pounded like a drum, his body aching as if he had been hit by a truck. He groaned and pushed himself up, his fingers sinking into the soft dirt and fallen leaves. His hands were sticky and wet. Blood. His breath hitched. It coated his fingers, smeared across his arms. His shirt was in tatters, shredded like something had clawed through it. A cold shiver ran through him. What the hell happened last night? Disoriented, he looked around. Trees towered above him, sunlight breaking through the leaves in scattered beams. He wasn’t at the party anymore.This was the woods behind campus Heart pounding, he staggered to his feet. His senses buzzed, heightened in a way that felt wrong—too sharp, too aware. He could hear the distant rustle of squirrels in the trees, the thudding heartbeat of a deer moving somewhere beyond the brush. His nostrils flared at the scents around him—earth, pine, the faint trace of something metallic. His own blood. A sudden hunger curled deep in his stomach, a gnawing ache unlike anything he’d ever felt. His jaw clenched against it. Whatever this was, it wasn’t normal. Stumbling out of the woods, Nate wiped the last traces of blood from his arms with his shredded shirt before tossing it aside. The crisp morning air stung his bare skin, but at least it helped clear his head. Thank God it was still early not many people were around to see him like this. By the time he reached his dorm, his limbs ached with exhaustion. He slammed the door shut behind him, exhaling sharply before collapsing onto his bed. His hands fumbled for his phone, heart pounding as he found it still in his pocket. The screen lit up. Twelve missed calls. Over twenty texts. Most of them were from Liam. Where the hell did you go? Dude, are you okay?? Nate, answer me! Did you leave the party? Nate swallowed hard. His fingers hovered over the screen, but he didn’t know what to say. How could he answer when he didn’t even know what had happened? “Why the f**k can’t I remember anything from last night?” he muttered, running a hand through his tangled hair. Pushing himself upright, he dragged his aching body to the bathroom. He flicked the light on—and immediately winced, his pupils shrinking against the sudden brightness. Was it always this harsh? Blinking through the discomfort, he leaned over the sink and splashed cold water on his face, hoping it would shock some clarity into his brain. Nothing. His mind was a complete blank. He brushed his teeth, the minty burn sharp against his tongue, then stepped into the shower, letting the hot water pound against his sore muscles. Eyes closed, he tried to piece together the events of the night before. The party. The music. Liam. And then… nothing. No—wait. Not nothing. A flash of something. Glowing eyes. A growl. A sharp, burning pain. His breath hitched. His hand flew to his shoulder, fingers pressing against the spot. The skin was smooth—unbroken. But he knew, deep in his bones, that something had happened. Something he wasn’t supposed to forget. He stared at his reflection, water dripping from his chin. His eyes looked… different. Sharper. Brighter. And then he noticed the sounds. The hum of the vending machine down the hall. The faint murmur of conversation from two rooms away. The rhythmic thudding of footsteps outside someone pacing. That wasn’t normal. His brain scrambled for an explanation something logical, something that made sense. Maybe he was just on edge, his senses on high alert after whatever happened last night. But then why could he hear everything? Adrenaline could enhance perception, sure, but not like this. His pulse quickened. This wasn’t normal. What the hell was happening to him? . * * Where did I see those glowing eyes? Did I go to the woods during the party? Fuck. f**k. f**k. I was exhausted, but skipping class wasn’t an option—not with midterms coming up. I shoved the thoughts aside, focusing on the simple act of grabbing my books from my locker. The moment I pulled the door open, a familiar presence slid in beside me. "Duuuuude, where did you go last night?" Liam whined, dramatically leaning against the lockers. "You left me all alone! Was it because I forced you to come with me?" He pouted, toying with the silver ring on his bottom lip. "If I knew you didn’t want to be there, I wouldn’t have pushed, but I love when we go to parties together—” He was rambling. Liam was my best friend, and I loved him to the moon and back. He was all sharp cheekbones and messy black curls, the kind of pretty that turned heads no matter where he went. His brown skin had this warm glow that somehow made his doe eyes look even bigger and made him seem innocent, but I knew better. Liam was a menace. And that’s exactly how he always attracted attention, from both guys and girls. Not that it mattered Liam swung exclusively to the male side. I forced a laugh. "No, Liam, I had fun at the party. I just drank too much and left early. Passed out and didn’t hear my phone." I lied. If I told him I had woken up in the woods with blood on my hands, he’d lose his mind. Liam squinted at me, like he didn’t quite believe it, but then shrugged. "Fine. But next time, you don’t get to bail on me." "Sure. Now, let’s get to class. We have midterms this week so we can’t afford to miss anything." Before he could protest, I grabbed his wrist and dragged him along. * * "Anatomy has to be the most boring class ever." Nate slumped further into his seat, staring at the skeletal diagram projected on the lecture hall’s massive screen. The professor droned on about the intricacies of the human muscular system, but Nate’s brain had long since checked out. He tapped his pen against his notebook, fighting the urge to rest his head on the desk. He regretted every life decision that had led him to this moment. When he enrolled at Blackridge University, he thought a pre-med track with a focus on biomedical sciences would be interesting. Maybe even exciting. He had not anticipated spending two straight hours listening to a lecture on the difference between fast-twitch and slow-twitch muscle fibers. Maybe it was just his lack of sleep. Maybe it was the headache pounding at his skull since he woke up. Or maybe it was the fact that everything felt wrong today. Sounds were too sharp. Smells were too strong. Even now, he could hear the faint rustle of paper from three rows back and smell the lingering scent of someone’s vanilla latte from earlier that morning. It was weird. And it was giving him a migraine. "Alright," the professor finally said, closing his laptop. "That’s all for today. Read chapters five through eight for next week’s quiz." The moment he finished speaking, students bolted for the door like they had been held hostage. Nate practically bolted for the door. He was focused on getting to his locker, maybe splashing some water on his face— Then he slammed straight into something solid. No. Not something. Someone. A strong hand grabbed his shoulder, steadying him. “Watch where you’re going,” came the low, commanding voice. Nate looked up—and everything inside him froze. Killian Drake. The guy was intimidating as hell. Tall, broad-shouldered, built like someone who belonged in underground fight rings. His black shirt fit snug against his frame, his sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal faint scars along his forearms and he had way to many piercings. There was a sleek silver ring on his right eyebrow, glinting when he tilted his head. His tongue piercing flashed briefly as he exhaled, and Nate caught glimpses of multiple rings lining his ears. His silver eyes too sharp, narrowed as they locked onto Nate’s. And something in his expression changed. Killian stopped mid-sentence. His brows furrowed slightly like he’d just noticed something. His grip on Nate’s shoulder tightened for half a second before he quickly let go, schooling his expression back to indifference. Weird. Before Nate could process it, another voice cut in—this one sharper, silkier, and way less friendly. “Are we seriously wasting time on this?” Nate turned his head and felt his mood instantly sour. Celeste Voss. Great. Just what he needed. Nate didn’t know what it was about Celeste, but something about her just set him off. Maybe it was the way she always looked like she was barely tolerating the people around her. Maybe it was the constant sharpness in her tone, like she thought everyone was beneath her. Or maybe it was just the vibe. Either way, he wasn’t a fan. She was annoyingly perfect, from her sleek platinum-blonde hair to her stupidly flawless skin. She had a leather jacket slung over her shoulders, paired with high-waisted pants that made her look like she was about to step on someone’s soul. And judging by the look she was giving him? That someone was him. “Well?” she said coolly, folding her arms. “Are you going to stand there all day, or can we move on?” Something about her tone made Nate’s irritation spike. He crossed his arms. “I'm pretty sure this is not the only way to pass darling.” The moment the words left his mouth, both of them froze. Celeste’s brows shot up, caught off guard. Nate himself wasn’t even sure where it had come from, but something about her just made his mouth run on autopilot. Killian, who had been watching silently, suddenly smirked. “What’s your name?” The question was casual, but there was something pointed underneath it. Nate narrowed his eyes. “Nate.” Killian tilted his head, his silver gaze too sharp, too knowing. “Interesting.” Celeste rolled her eyes. “Killian, let’s go.” Killian held Nate’s gaze for a second longer before finally stepping back, his expression unreadable. “We’ll be seeing you again, Nathaniel.” Then, without another word, he turned and walked off. Celeste shot Nate one last look of pure annoyance before following him.