CRESCENT BOUND

The Return of the Prey

Elara's POV

The morning air was cold and biting against my cheeks as I walked through the iron gates of Blackwood Academy. I kept my head down, my shoulders hunched, the silver medallion pressed flat against my chest beneath my sweater. My grandmother's warnings echoed in my head: stay away from them, don't draw attention.

I had already failed at every single one of them.

The hallways were crowded with students, their voices forming a faint hum of rumors and laughter. I felt their gazes weigh on me as I passed, the whispering starting almost immediately. That's the new girl. The one who passed out. The one Kaelen carried home. My cheeks burned with embarrassment. How was this possible? I didn't remember anything from last night.

I reached my locker without incident, but the moment I touched the combination lock, a familiar voice wound its way through the noise behind me.

"Look who decided to show up."

I turned around slowly, forcing myself to look nervous. Lila Hale stood there with her minions, the same girls from yesterday, her eyes sharp and cruel. Lila’s lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She was beautiful the way a blade was beautiful: sharp, polished, designed to cut.

"Hello," I said softly, my voice barely louder than a whisper.

"Hello?" Lila laughed, the sound dry and cold. "Is that all you have to say? After causing such a scene yesterday? Fainting in the courtyard like a fragile little flower?"

She stepped closer, and I forced myself to step back with a start.

"Kaelen had to carry you home. Do you know what that looks like? Do you know what people are saying?"

I shook my head, my eyes wide.

"I don't... I don't know what you're talking about."

"You lost your memory, huh." Lila's friend—the one with the red nails—snorted. "Right. You were trying to get his attention, weren't you?"

"No, I..."

"Spare me." Lila cut me off, her voice oozing venom. "I don't care what your game is, Vance. But let me make one thing clear."

She stepped close enough that I could smell her perfume, reminiscent of rotting flowers.

"Kaelen is mine. He's been mine since we were kids. And I won't let some pathetic little charity case ruin what belongs to me."

Her hand shot out, grabbing my arm. Her nails dug in, sharp and cruel. I gasped, more out of surprise than pain—I had seen worse, much worse, over the last few years. Tears welled up in my eyes. My voice cracked.

"You're hurting me."

"Good," Lila hissed. "Maybe you'll remember that the next time you think about batting your eyelashes at him. Stay. Away. From. Kaelen. Or next time, I won't just hurt you."

Her smile widened, predatory and dark.

"I'll make sure you regret ever setting foot in this school."

I knew what came next. I could see it in the way her eyes had slid toward my medallion, in the way her hand had twitched. She wanted to humiliate me, to break me, to prove to everyone that she was the queen of this castle and that I was nothing more than a speck of dust under her heel.

"Lila, please," I begged, "I don't want any trouble. I'll stay away from him. I promise. I had nothing to do with him yesterday."

"Too late for promises."

She grabbed my medallion hard, and the chain bit into my neck. I let out a cry, reaching out on instinct, my hands trembling.

"Please, don't..."

"Don't what?" Lila laughed. "Not take your little necklace? What's inside it, Elara? A picture of your boyfriend? A love note from Kaelen?"

She pulled again, and I felt the clasp give way.

"Let's see, shall we?"

Something inside me snapped. I had enough of this drama.

"Let go of me," I said, my voice steadier than I intended. "Now."

Lila's eyes widened. For a split second, she looked almost frightened—as if she had caught a glimpse of something dangerous beneath the surface. But her face then twisted into fury and she shoved me violently against the lockers.

"Who do you think you are?" she growled. "Talking to me in that tone? You're nothing. Less than nothing. You're just a..."

The fluorescent light overhead flickered. Once. Twice.

And then it exploded.

Glass showered down in a spray of sparks and sharp fragments. Lila let out a scream, stumbling backward, her hands flying to her face. Her friends shrieked, shielding their heads. Students scattered as chaos took over the hallway.

I stood frozen, my heart pounding, my hand pressed against my medallion.

I was terrified of the scene.

Students were screaming, pointing, backing away from the chaos. Lila's face was pale, a thin trickle of blood running down her cheek where a shard had cut her. She stared at the broken glass, then at me, her eyes wide with shock and fury.

"You!" Lila pointed a trembling finger at me. "This is your fault! You did something!"

"I didn't do anything!" I shook my head frantically, letting my face twist with fear. "I didn't do anything! It just... it just exploded!"

"Liar!" Lila screamed, lunging at me. "You caused this! You..."

Her friends grabbed her, holding her back.

"Lila, stop! You're bleeding!"

"I don't care!" Lila fought against them, her eyes wild. "She did this! I know it!"

A teacher's voice cut through the chaos.

"What's going on here? Everyone to class! Now!"

The students scattered like dead leaves. Lila's friends dragged her away, still hurling accusations. The teacher—a tall, graying man with a cold gaze—looked at the broken light, then at me.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice flat.

I shook my head, still trembling.

"No, sir. I'm fine."

"Then go to class. The bell already rang."

I didn't need to be told twice. I grabbed my bag and hurried down the hall, my heart beating so hard I could barely breathe.

I forced myself to walk, not run. To breathe, not hyperventilate. Calm down. Everything is fine. It was just a faulty lightbulb.

Principal tracking feeling that someone was watching me refused to fade.

I turned the corner toward my history class, my steps quick and determined. I needed to disappear into a room full of students, to become invisible, to...

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Kaelen Blackwood stood at the end of the hallway, his back turned. He was standing in front of his locker, his broad shoulders tense, his head bent over something in his hands. A piece of paper, judging by the looks of it.

I should have walked past him. I should have kept going, kept my head down, acted like I hadn't seen him. That was the smart thing to do. That was the safest thing.

But something made me hesitate. Something made me look.

And then he turned around.

Our eyes met in the empty corridor.

The world seemed to stop. The school noises faded into silence, replaced by the frantic beating of my own heart. He looked at me with an intensity that turned my stomach—not with anger, not with hatred, but with something I couldn't name.

I saw his jaw tighten. I saw his fingers close around the paper he was holding, crushing the edges. There was a strange expression on his face—confusion, perhaps. Or suspicion.

I walked past him, my eyes lowered to the floor, my steps steady and measured.

I felt his gaze on me the whole way, burning the back of my head.

Keep walking. Don't look back.

I wanted to ask him what those rumors about him were, him who had carried me home when he had sworn to keep his distance. I didn't remember anything.

I reached the door to my history class and pushed it open, slipping inside without a backward glance.

The room was full of students, their voices a light murmur of chatter. I found an empty seat near the back and slipped into it, my hands shaking as I pulled out my textbook.

I didn't look up. I didn't dare.

But I could still feel his gaze on me, even from across the school.

And I knew, with absolute certainty, that this was only the beginning of my nightmare.