Moon Called : Werewolf Academy (Book 1)

Chapter 10

Ariah shifts, regret written all over her face. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I’ve already said too much.”

“Where? In this room?” I inch toward the door, my skin crawling. “It wasn’t in here, was it?”

“I could lie, but someone else will tell you eventually. Might as well be me.”

Nausea pools in the pit of my stomach. “Please don’t tell me—on my bed?”

“She was found stabbed in her bed,” Ariah confirms quietly. Then, she adds a frantic, “But don’t worry! They burned the old one. This is brand-new.”

I stare at the mattress as if it’s a trap. “Is this a regular thing here?”

“If it were, do you think I’d still be here?” she snorts. “No. It happened during class. The girl, Sally, said she wasn’t feeling well and came back alone. Later, a friend checked on her and found her… well, in her own blood.”

“Where were you?”

“In class. Thank the goddess I didn’t see it. I can’t imagine what her friends went through,” Ariah sighs, looking tired. “We weren’t besties, but I liked her. She was nice.”

“How can you sleep in here?”

“It was terrible at first, but you kind of get over it.” Her forehead wrinkles. “Anyway, they caught him. Her ex-boyfriend fell into a jealous rage. So you don’t have to worry about a psychopath on the loose. He got punished.”

“Oh. Good.” I eye the bed, still half-convinced I’ll see a bloodstain. I cross the room and drop my duffel bags on the new mattress, trying to distract myself by unpacking.

“Lucian Crowe got what he deserved,” Ariah says, tearing open a pack of candy. “I do feel sorry for her brother, though. Have you met him? Elijah? Like, the insanely hot future alpha?”

My hairbrush hits the floor with a dull thud. “Luca?”

The color drains from my face. Wait—what are the odds that… No.

Out of everything, I’m just finding out an actual murderer bit me?

And the realization that it is Elijah’s sister makes it somehow even worse.

No. I shake my head, trying to physically dislodge the thought.

“Not sure who that is, but he went by the name Lucian. They stripped him of his power and sent him to Nightfall Prison. Exactly where he belongs. Trust me, no one gets out of there.”

What are the chances of there being two boys with that name? “This Lucian,” I swallow hard. “What did he look like?”

“Also super hot. Such a waste.” Ariah lets out a heavy, dramatic sigh and holds up a finger. “Wait, I have a picture of the two of them somewhere.”

Ariah disappears into our shared closet and emerges with a thick pink photo album. She flips through the pages at a frantic pace. “Give me a—ah! Here it is. See?”

I move to stand beside her, my legs feeling like lead. The second my eyes settle on the glossy print, my heart climbs into my throat, hammering against my teeth.

It’s a shot of a cute couple at a park, sitting on a wooden bench beneath a sprawling oak. The girl’s long, wavy hair and floral dress are caught mid-sway in a breeze that doesn’t exist anymore. The boy has his arm wrapped around her shoulders, wearing a casual black shirt and jeans. Both of them are laughing, their faces lit with a joy that looks painful now. In the background, sunlight filters through the trees and glints off a serene pond, making their world seem perfect.

Almost. Because the boy is, without a doubt, the same Luca who bit me.

My skin turns ice-cold. They look so… happy. What could have gone so wrong? And more importantly—how the hell is Luca free?

“You okay?” Ariah snaps the album shut, hiding the haunting image from sight. It doesn’t help. It’s already branded onto the back of my eyelids. “You seem—I don’t know. Spooked?”

“Well.” I rub my damp palms against my jeans. “You did just inform me that I’m sleeping in a murder scene.”

Ariah’s face pinches with guilt. “Yeah, I guess you’ve got a point. I’m sorry. I tend to be a little too honest for my own good.”

I don’t tell her the real reason. I don’t tell her I was just in the same room as a killer—that he bit me, for crying out loud. “It’s okay,” I mutter.

A long, heavy silence follows. I use the awkwardness as a shield, focusing entirely on unpacking my bags.

“So, the Moon Festival is coming up.” Ariah breaks the quiet, tapping her password into her laptop. “I’ve already planned my outfit. Do you have one ready, or are you more of a casual person?”

“I’ve never been.”

“You’ve never been to the Moon Festival?” Ariah’s eyes practically pop out of their sockets.

I shake my head, tucking my folded clothes into our shared closet. Ariah’s things dominate her side of the divided space, making it a tight fit for whatever I have left. “I’m not from a werewolf family. Humans don’t usually get an invite to the party.”

Ariah’s brows furrow. “I’ve seen humans at the festivals before.”

“Yeah, well. My parents are… anti-wolf.”

“Oh. You’ve got those parents.” Ariah falls silent, her expression softening. “I’m sorry, Hailey. That’s got to suck.”

“It is what it is,” I mutter, trying to sound indifferent.

“Hey, you can always join my family for the holidays,” she says, a wide grin breaking through the tension. “Then you won’t be stuck here with the ‘stay-behind’ faculty.”

I managed a small, genuine smile. “You barely know me.”

Ariah taps the tip of her nose with a finger. “Wolf senses. I can spot a bad person from a mile away.”

I let out a dry laugh. “Funny, because I can’t tell the difference between a bunny and a snake.”

“Every wolf has their thing. Mine is sensing intentions.” Her shoulders drop as her gaze settles on me. “Look, I’m going to cut to the chase. Are you going to be okay? Your mood is like the center of a hurricane right now—maybe worse. Can I ask what happened?”

“I’m not even sure,” I say, my eyes wandering the room. “This is a lot to take in.”

Ariah holds out her bag of candy, an offering of peace. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Thanks.” I offer a weak smile, taking a piece before plunking down onto my new bed. “My mom didn’t take the news well when she saw the mark. She was more worried about her next drink than me. She just… dumped me at the station.”

“I’m so sorry, Hails.”

My heart constricts at the nickname. It’s what Dad always calls me. “Yeah, well. Life, right?”