CHAPTER 2: THE CHASE
1569 Words
“Move over, you’re hogging the armrest.”
Skye didn’t look up. “I was here first, Clawson.”
The scrape of a chair. The faint heat of him next to her. She could feel him before she saw him—like static crawling along her skin.
The lecture hall buzzed with low chatter, a hundred voices bouncing off old stone walls. Rain pattered against the high windows, dull and steady, but inside, all Skye could hear was the pulse in her ears. Her bandaged palm throbbed with each heartbeat.
Derek Clawson—of course he’d sit beside her. The universe apparently had a sense of humor.
“You don’t seem thrilled to see me,” he said, voice low, amused.
“I’m still deciding if I survived your car just to die of annoyance.”
He huffed a soft laugh. “You’re welcome, then.” Something landed on her desk with a quiet thud—a sleek, leather-bound notebook and a steaming cup of coffee.
She blinked. “What’s this?”
“Apology.”
“I don’t drink guilt.”
“It’s not guilt. It’s caramel latte.” His tone was dry, but his eyes—those impossible crimson eyes—were steady on her face, as if daring her to refuse.
She tried. God, she tried. But the smell hit her—rich, warm, expensive. Not the instant kind she usually drank half-asleep before class. “You didn’t have to.”
“I did. I hit you.” His gaze dropped to her bandaged hand. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
“Liar.”
Skye exhaled sharply, shoving her pen across the page. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere else? Like, I don’t know—posing for your fan club?”
He grinned. “They’ll survive.”
The professor’s voice filled the hall, beginning a lecture on Greek Titans, but the words barely touched her. Skye’s world had narrowed to the few inches of space between her and Derek—the brush of his sleeve, the sound of him breathing, the electric sense that if she turned her head too fast, she’d fall straight into something she couldn’t undo.
He didn’t write a thing. He just sat there, leaning back, watching the professor with that lazy calm that screamed confidence. Every few minutes, his eyes slid to her—quick, assessing. Each look hit like a spark she couldn’t ignore.
By the time class ended, Skye was ready to sprint for the door.
“Hey,” he said as she stood. “Let me walk you.”
“Not necessary.”
“I didn’t ask if it was.”
He was already beside her, keeping pace as she stepped into the crowded hall. The buzz of voices followed them like a current. People stared—because of course they did. Derek Clawson didn’t just walk with people.
“So,” he said, hands in his pockets. “Skye what? Skye who sits in the back row and pretends not to exist?”
“Skye who minds her business.”
“Where’s home, Skye who minds her business?”
She gave him a look. “Far enough that you won’t find it.”
He laughed, and the sound was real, surprised. “You’re fun.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“Maybe to you.”
“That’s the point.”
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the twitch of her lips. His energy was infuriating—too calm, too sure—but beneath the smirk, there was something else. Watchful. Dangerous.
“Are you ever serious?” she asked.
He slowed. The grin faded. “More than you think.”
And there it was—the shift. The air around them changed, heavy and sharp. Before she could say more, a voice rang down the hallway.
“Derek! Finally.”
Joanna.
Her tone alone could cut glass. She glided toward them, perfect hair, perfect dress, flanked by two girls who looked carved from the same mold.
Joanna’s eyes swept Skye up and down, her smile razor-thin. “Oh. You again. Still walking upright? Thought you’d be limping after yesterday’s little accident.”
Her friends giggled.
Derek’s jaw flexed. “Joanna—”
“Relax, baby.” She looped her arm through his. “I’m just teasing. Anyway, the Sigma party’s tonight. You’re my date, remember?”
He pulled his arm free, slow and deliberate. “Not going.”
Her smile faltered. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“Derek, don’t be ridiculous. You promised.”
“Plans changed.”
Joanna blinked, searching his face for a hint of the boy she could manipulate. But he wasn’t there. Only the man standing beside Skye, posture coiled, eyes glowing faintly under the hallway lights.
Her gaze darted between them. “You’re dumping me? For her?” She spat the word like it tasted bad. “She’s nobody. A scholarship charity case. You think slumming it makes you deep?”
The air went thin. Students nearby stopped pretending not to listen.
Skye’s heart hammered, heat crawling up her neck—but before she could react, Derek stepped closer to Joanna. His voice dropped, low and lethal.
“Apologize.”
Joanna stared at him, face paling. “What—”
“Now.”
Something in his tone—something primal—froze her in place. But pride won. She spun on her heel, tears smudging her mascara, and stormed off, her entourage scurrying after her.
Silence rippled down the hall.
Skye turned to him slowly. “What the hell was that?”
“She disrespected you.”
“So you humiliated her?”
“She earned it.”
She shook her head, still reeling. “You just made yourself the headline of every group chat on campus.”
“Don’t care.”
“Well, you should.”
His phone buzzed, sharp and sudden. He glanced at it, and his entire expression shifted. The warmth vanished. His eyes darkened, like a storm rolling in.
“You okay?” she asked, quieter now.
He didn’t answer right away. Then, “I have to go.”
“That’s not ominous at all.”
He looked at her like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. Then he did something unexpected—he reached out, brushing a strand of wet hair from her cheek. The touch was brief, but lightning shot through her, same as before.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.
She wanted to ask why that sounded like a promise, but he was already gone—disappearing into the crowd with that strange, silent intensity.
Skye stood there, stunned, coffee cup still in hand. Her fingers trembled. He’d just publicly dumped Joanna Clawson—the untouchable queen of Northbridge—for her. That wasn’t nothing. That was dangerous.
Her phone buzzed. A text from her dad.
Come home after class. Don’t stay on campus. It’s urgent. The forests are restless. Your mom’s trip is delayed.
A chill ran down her spine.
The forests. Restless.
She packed her things and headed out, her pulse racing.
Back in her dorm, Skye sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the coffee Derek had left. She hadn’t even tasted it. It still smelled like him—forest and rain.
Mia barged in, phone in hand, eyes wide. “Okay, spill. You and Derek Clawson? Everyone’s talking. You broke Joanna. Do you realize what that means?”
Skye groaned. “It wasn’t like that. He just—”
“Sat next to you, bought you coffee, defended your honor like some medieval knight, and nuked the campus social hierarchy. Totally casual.” Mia flopped onto the bed. “You’re living my dream.”
“I don’t want to be in anyone’s dream,” Skye muttered.
“Too late.”
Skye smiled faintly but it didn’t reach her eyes. Her thoughts drifted to the text from her dad. The forests are restless.
She turned back to her desk, pulling up her Mythology notes. The Mega Alpha: born of chaos, forged in blood, bound to the rise of the lost pack.
Her fingers hovered over the keys. Derek’s eyes flashed in her mind—crimson, feral, too real to be human.
She shut the laptop.
Across campus, Derek’s motorcycle cut through the misty night, its growl swallowed by the trees. The message still burned in his head: The forest is hungry. Come now.
He reached the edge of the woods and stopped. The scent of pine and damp earth filled the air. Shadows moved between the trees—his pack waiting.
“Late,” his father’s voice said from the darkness. Deep. Commanding.
Derek met his eyes. “I was busy.”
“Busy?” A humorless laugh. “You think this is optional? The forest shifts, the bloodline stirs, and you’re playing human?”
Derek didn’t answer. His mind was elsewhere—on golden eyes and a spark that felt like fate.
“She’s not one of us,” his father said, reading his silence. “Stay away.”
But the echo of that spark, the heat under the rain, said otherwise.
As Derek stepped into the dark, a howl broke through the night—long, wild, and ancient.
He felt it deep in his bones.
Something was waking.
And somehow, Skye was right in the center of it.
- Writer
