What Hunts the Wolf

Chapter 4: Something Isn’t Right

Pulling into the school parking lot, I slow the truck to a crawl, scanning the rows of cars packed too close together.

Figures.

Of course it’s full.

I finally spot a small opening near the back—far enough away from everyone else—and pull Auntie’s beat-up blue truck into it. The engine rattles as I shut it off, the silence settling heavier than it should.

For a moment, I just sit there.

Something feels… off.

Not outside.

Inside.

I shake it off and climb out, careful with my leg—though it barely hurts now. That alone is enough to make my stomach twist.

I shouldn’t be okay. Not after last night.

Gravel crunches under my shoes as I head toward the school. To my left, a group of girls crowds around a bright green punch buggy, their laughter sharp and loud.

One of them catches my eye.

Tall. Blonde.

Her ocean-blue gaze locks onto mine, something cold flickering behind it—curiosity… and something sharper.

I look away quickly and keep moving.

Don’t trip. Don’t stare. Just get inside.

I weave between cars and students, slipping past conversations and bursts of laughter.

Almost there.

Then—

An engine roars into the lot.

I glance over instinctively as a robin-blue jeep pulls in fast, gravel spitting from under its tires before it slides into a spot near the group of girls.

They react instantly, like magnets—crowding around it, smiling, laughing louder than before.

I slow without meaning to.

Two guys climb out.

At first glance, they look identical.

Same height. Same build. Same dark hair.

Twins.

But then—

Differences.

One moves like he owns the space, shoulders relaxed, a careless confidence in every step. The other is quieter, more controlled—his gaze sharper, more aware. The louder one laughs at something one of the girls says.

The quieter one…

Finds me.

His head turns suddenly, like he felt it—like he knew I was watching.

Our eyes lock.

Hazel.

Bright. Intense.

Something flickers across his face. Not surprise. Not curiosity.

Recognition.

My chest tightens painfully, like something invisible just pulled too hard. I suck in a breath.

Nope.

I turn fast and head straight for the doors, my pace quickening until I’m just short of running.

Don’t look back.

I don’t.

The second I step inside, everything crashes into me.

Noise.

Too much noise.

Lockers slamming. Voices overlapping. Shoes squeaking against tile.

It’s overwhelming—like someone turned the volume of the world all the way up.

I flinch, pressing my fingers against my temple.

Why is everything so loud?

I push through it anyway, forcing myself toward the office.

Schedule.

Get the schedule.

Survive the day.

That’s it.

The office is quieter—but not by much. I can still hear everything. The tapping of keys. Papers shifting. Someone whispering somewhere down the hall.

I step up to the counter.

“Hi,” I say, trying to sound normal. “I’m new.”

The woman behind the desk barely looks up. She slides a paper toward me without much expression.

“Name?”

“Allison.”

She types for a moment, then nods. “You’re late.”

I blink once then twice. “I just got here.”

She shrugs slightly, like it doesn’t matter. “Classes started ten minutes ago.”

“Okay… well, I didn’t exactly plan the move across countries,” I mutter under my breath.

“What was that?” she asks flatly.

“Nothing.”

She hands me my schedule.

I glance down at it, then back up. “Do you have a map or something?”

“There are signs.”

“…Right.”

I hesitate. “Uh… where’s this class?” I point at the paper.

She leans over just enough to glance at it. “Second floor. Left wing.”

“That’s helpful,” I say dryly.

She’s already looking back at her computer. “Next.”

I stand there for a second longer, then sigh and turn away.

Well. That was welcoming.

By the time I make it through my first few classes, I feel like I’m losing it.

Everything is too sharp.

Too loud.

Too much.

By lunch, I can’t take it anymore. I grab my bag and push through the doors, heading outside without thinking.

The moment I reach the edge of the school grounds, I stop. Trees stretch out in front of me.

Dark. Still.

Familiar.

My chest tightens.

The woods.

I shouldn’t want to go near them. After last night, I should be running the other way. So why does it feel like something is pulling me closer? Just a few steps. That’s all it would take.

I shift my weight forward slightly—

Then freeze.

No.

Absolutely not.

I take a step back instead, shaking my head.

“What are you doing?” I mutter to myself.

This is how people die in horror movies. I let out a shaky breath and force myself to turn away from the trees.

Nope. Not happening.

The rest of the day drags. Too slow. Too loud. Too much thinking.

Last class of the day—History.

Groaning inwardly, I take a seat in the back.

Heels click sharply against the tile floor, and I wince, lifting a hand to cover my ear for a second.

“Who are you?” a nasally voice says to my right.

I turn slowly—and there she is.

The blonde from the parking lot.

Two of her friends hover behind her.

“New,” I say quietly, already pulling out my notebook.

“You smell funny, you know,” she says, just loud enough for me to hear.

I pause.

“Huh?” I turn back to her.

Maybe I heard her wrong.

She just smiles.

“Oh, never mind,” she says sweetly—too sweetly. Her voice drips with fake kindness.

Then she turns away like nothing happened.

But my stomach twists.

By the time the final bell rings, I’m already halfway out the door.

I don’t stop moving until I reach the truck.

The second I climb in, I shut the door and let out a long breath, resting my forehead against the steering wheel.

“Get it together,” I whisper.

This is fine.

Everything is fine.

Liar.

I start the engine anyway.

As I pull out of the parking spot, something makes me glance up.

The twins.

They’re standing near the jeep.

Watching.

Not the crowd.

Not the school.

Me.

The louder one leans casually against the hood, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

But the quieter one—

The one who looked at me earlier—

His gaze is locked onto mine again. Sharp. Focused.

Like he’s trying to figure me out. Or already has.

That same tight feeling twists in my chest. I break eye contact first, gripping the wheel a little tighter as I pull out of the lot.

But even as I drive away…

I can still feel it. Their eyes on me.

And somehow…

I know this isn’t the last time I’ll see them.