Claimed by The Lost Alpha

Chapter 5: The Alpha's Silhouette

Night descended beneath the half-moon, bright and commanding in the heavens. On the wide lawn of the dormitory, a great bonfire roared, sending sparks spiraling into the star-splashed sky. Students clustered in groups, laughter spilling between the strum of guitars and bursts of song. The air hummed with life.

In one corner, seated on a picnic blanket, Lareina and Giselle watched the crowd. Yet Lareina’s usual brightness was dimmed; her eyes roved restlessly through the firelit throng, searching, always searching.

“Who are you looking for, Rei?” Giselle followed her gaze. “Draven? I haven’t seen him since we got here.”

Lareina shook her head faintly. “I don’t know where he is. I’ve looked around, but… nothing.”

Giselle sighed. “Maybe he’s still brooding over that gossip from a few days ago? Though… funny, isn’t it? The rumors just vanished overnight. And Toby hasn’t been seen on campus since.”

Her words only deepened Lareina’s unease. Something was wrong—terribly wrong. Draven would never avoid a night like this. He was always near. Always.

Suddenly Lareina rose, startling Giselle. “I have to find him.”

“What? Where are you going?” Giselle called, bewildered.

“I don’t know. But I have to try. He has to be somewhere.”

Leaving the glow of the fire behind, Lareina cut through the crowd. Her eyes caught Edward near a cluster of tents, laughing with classmates. She strode toward him without hesitation.

“Edward!” she called. “Do you know where Draven is? I can’t find him.”

Surprise flickered across Edward’s face before he quickly masked it. “Lareina. Uh Draven? He’s… not feeling well. Said he wouldn’t be at the welcome bonfire. He’s resting in his room.”

Her worry sharpened. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Just a fever. Nothing serious. Don’t worry,” Edward replied smoothly, though his eyes betrayed a nervous flicker.

Before she could press further, the MC’s voice boomed over the microphone, calling students to gather at the stage. Giselle waved at her from the distance. “Rei! Come on!”

But Lareina ignored it. She gave Edward a curt nod, then turned on her heel, her steps brisk with determination. She wasn’t heading to the stage, she was going to the dormitory.

She crossed the bright, firelit lawn, then plunged into the quiet dark of the deserted campus paths. Her heartbeat thundered—not from exertion, but from dread she couldn’t shake. The boys’ dorm loomed ahead. Inside, silence reigned. Everyone was still outside, still laughing by the fire.

She mounted the stairs in haste, breath shallow, eyes darting over the numbered doors until she found it—4B. Draven’s room.

Her fist struck the wood. Once. Silence.

Twice. Still nothing.

A third time, harder. No reply.

“Draven!” she called, panic creeping into her voice.

Her hand grasped the knob. To her shock, it turned easily. The door creaked open. Unlocked. Draven never left it unlocked. The whisper of worry in her mind became a scream.

“Draven! I’m coming in!”

She stepped inside. Darkness swallowed her. No lamps lit, only the ghostly glow of the full moon streaming through the window. And in that pale light, a silhouette waited. Broad-shouldered, head bowed, unmoving.

Lareina froze, breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t see clearly, yet she felt its presence—dense, suffocating, wrong.

Then, two eyes flared open. Not brown. Not human. Red, burning embers locked onto her. Her skin prickled, every hair rising. The silhouette stirred, revealing the jagged gleam of fangs, the hooked curve of claws too long, too sharp for a man’s hands.

A low, guttural sound filled the room. A breath or a growl. Heavy. Bestial.

Lareina staggered back, legs weakening. Terror like she had never known gripped her chest. Her vision blurred, darkness closing in. She collapsed, consciousness slipping away.

The sound drew him. Draven turned, and for the first time he realized she was there, Lareina, crumpled at his doorway, pale and still beneath the moonlight. His chest convulsed, a heart no longer entirely human throbbing with anguish.

“Rei…” Draven’s voice was a guttural rasp, a sound caught somewhere between man and beast. “You weren’t meant to see this…”

He moved with inhuman swiftness. In a single stride he leapt over Lareina’s fallen form, scooping her up effortlessly with one clawed hand. Though his fingers were tipped with lethal talons, his touch was painstakingly careful as he laid her across the mattress. Against his monstrous frame, her body looked impossibly fragile.

A frustrated growl tore from his throat—low, raw, and ragged. No matter how hard he willed it, the beast inside him would not relent, not while the moon still glared down through the window like a merciless spotlight.

Draven’s gaze darted toward the silver light flooding the room. Panic surged. He lunged for the curtains, ripping the cords with a violent yank. The heavy drapes fell shut, swallowing the room in darkness and cutting off the moon’s cruel hold.

Almost instantly, his body convulsed. Bones cracked and shifted with a sickening rhythm; muscles shrank, fur receded, claws withdrew. Each second of the transformation dragged fire through his veins until, at last, he collapsed against the edge of the bed—human once more. His hair, dark and damp with sweat, clung to his brow. His chest heaved, every breath uneven. The monster was gone, but its echo still clung to him.

With trembling hands, Draven reached for the nightstand and fumbled for his phone. He pressed the call button with a shaky thumb.

“Mom… I need help.”

“Draven?” Lizabeth’s voice crackled through, fraught with alarm. “What’s wrong? You sound—”

“Lareina.” His voice broke. “She saw me. I… I forgot to lock the door, and the full moon—”

Silence. Then a sharp intake of breath on the other end. “Dear God,” she whispered, her tone quivering with dread. “Draven, listen to me. Stay calm. Are you in your room? How is Lareina?”

“She’s unconscious. I don’t know what to do.” His words were raw with frustration. He dragged his hands down his face, fighting to keep from unraveling.

On the bed, Lareina stirred. A faint groan escaped her lips as she shifted against the blankets. Her lashes fluttered, and slowly, the blur of darkness sharpened into vague outlines. She heard Draven’s voice—strained, desperate—and another voice, a woman’s, faint but urgent on the line.

She kept still, letting her senses adjust. The warmth of the quilt cocooned her, and she realized she was lying safely in Draven’s bed. His words reached her, jagged pieces slipping past his guard.

“I’m afraid she’ll never see me the same way again,” Draven murmured, his voice hollow with pain. “She’ll think I’m… a monster.”

“Draven,” Lizabeth’s tone hardened, carrying quiet authority. “This isn’t your fault. She will understand. She is Lareina. You didn’t harm her—that’s what matters most. Whatever happens, you must not leave her. Do you hear me? Don’t leave her alone.”

Draven sat hunched, clutching the phone, his back turned. He didn’t notice the girl on his bed awakening fully, her blue eyes now open, shadowed by the dim light seeping under the door.

Lareina’s pulse quickened as memories clicked into place—the whispers across campus, Draven’s unease, Toby’s sudden silence. Puzzle pieces she hadn’t understood now locked together with terrifying clarity.

Her lips parted, her voice no more than a trembling whisper meant for herself.

“A Werewolf…”