Marked by the red moon alpha

Jessie pov; It all starts at school, on what should have been an ordinary day. I'm standing by my locker, organizing my textbooks while Tyler leans against the one beside mine, complaining about a history assignment. That's when Bella suddenly appears. She glances over both shoulders before pulling us into a tight, conspiratorial huddle near the stairwell. "Keep your voices down," she whispers, her expression caught somewhere between excitement and caution. "I managed to hear what the upperclassmen are planning tonight. There's an underground welcome-to-senior-year camp party happening deep in the woods." Tyler immediately crosses his arms. "A party in the woods? You know that's strictly against school rules. If the administration—or worse, my dad and the department—finds out about a secret senior bash past the perimeter, half the grade will be suspended before the semester even starts." "Oh, relax, Sheriff Junior." Bella rolls her eyes, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "That's why it's a secret. Everyone's sneaking out after curfew. It's the ultimate rite of passage for our final year." Then she turns those pleading eyes on me. "Come on, Jess. We can't just sit at home on the very first night of senior year while everyone else is out there." I hesitate. A strange static prickles at the base of my neck, a sensation I have learned not to dismiss easily. Still, after a moment, I slowly nod. Tyler lets out a long sigh and runs a hand through his hair. "I knew you two were going to drag me into this." "That's a yes," Bella says brightly. That's me, Jessie Harrison, though most people just call me Jess. I'm eighteen years old, and I'm about to begin my final year at Royal Bridge Academy. If you asked anyone in the hallways to describe me, they'd probably use words like quiet, withdrawn, or total introvert. I prefer observant. I've always found it safer to stay in the background and listen to the things most people never notice. In a world full of noise, I've never been the kind of person who needs to be at the center of a room. I'd rather watch from the edges, where I can see more than people realize. Maybe that's because my own life has never been particularly ordinary. I live with my grandmother, Mary Harrison. My parents, Aurora and Dave Harrison, disappeared when I was much younger. Or rather, they were stolen from me. The official police report called it a tragic car accident on the winding roads outside Riverdale. Officer Mike, one of the first responders at the scene, spoke about the wreckage in a voice I still remember. There were details that never made it into the newspapers. Deep, jagged claw marks had been ripped across the metal chassis of the car, as though something impossibly strong had tried to tear the vehicle apart. Their bodies were never found. That empty space has followed me my entire life. It left me with a constant ache and the uneasy feeling that something dark and predatory was hiding beneath the quiet surface of our little town. Because I'm naturally reclusive, my circle is pretty small. I only have two people I'd truly call friends: Bella Morgan and Tyler Stones. Bella's father is a local hunter, so she grew up knowing how to clean a rifle almost as well as she knows how to apply lip gloss. Then there's Tyler. He's the son of Sheriff Luke, the man who runs the Riverdale police department with an iron fist. Tyler and I have known each other since childhood. We grew up running through the same woods, sharing scraped knees, secrets, and the kind of silent understanding that comes from knowing someone for almost your entire life. With Bella determined to make our first night of senior year memorable and Tyler already resigned to being dragged along, the decision is made. Later that night, we're deep in the woods. Tents are scattered throughout the clearing, and a massive bonfire crackles against the chill of the evening. Heavy bass from a portable speaker thumps through the trees, mingling with laughter and the overlapping voices of students enjoying themselves. Everyone seems to be having the time of their lives. I can't relax. The noise presses in from every direction, and a strange metallic taste coats my tongue. The static at the base of my neck has grown stronger. My enhanced senses, something I usually keep carefully hidden, are going haywire. Beneath the music, I can pick out individual heartbeats. Whispers carry across the clearing, while the faint rustle of leaves reaches my ears from far beyond the tents. I take a slow breath, trying to settle myself. "I need some air," I murmur to Bella, who is laughing at something Tyler says near the cooler. She glances at me. "Don't wander too far, Jess. The woods get creepy past the perimeter." "I won't." I slip away from the orange glow of the bonfire and into the deeper shadows of the forest. Almost immediately, the sounds of the party begin to fade, but the strange sensation at the base of my neck refuses to settle. Instead, it draws my attention toward the darkness ahead. I slow my steps. Something about the forest makes every instinct in me scream that I should turn back. Instead, I keep walking. The canopy of pine and oak blocks most of the moonlight, leaving only faint silver beams to guide my boots over the damp earth. I wrap my arms around myself, my fingers brushing the heirloom necklace resting against my collarbone. The red crescent moon pendant catches a sliver of moonlight. My mother gave it to me shortly before she disappeared. I've worn it almost every day since. As I walk deeper into the forest, the air grows colder. Behind me, the music dwindles until it's nothing more than a distant hum, swallowed by the trees. Then I hear it. A twig snapping. I stop, listening. Another sound follows. A low, ragged breath. Someone is hurt. My enhanced hearing picks up a wet, agonizing gasp, followed by a low growl that sends a shiver down my spine. Every instinct inside me screams to turn around. Go back to the campfire. Find Bella and Tyler. Don't investigate. I stand still for another moment, listening to the darkness around me. My heart pounds as I struggle against the urge to retreat. But my feet move anyway. Something is pulling me forward. I push through a thick wall of ferns and step into a small clearing. And that's when I see him. A man is sprawled across the damp moss. He's unconscious. Barefoot. Naked. And covered in blood. Deep wounds tear across his body, some of them looking disturbingly similar to the claw marks I'd seen in the old photographs from my parents' case. My breath catches. What could possibly have done this to him? Despite the blood and injuries, there is something unsettling about him. Even lying motionless on the forest floor, he has an intensity that makes it difficult to look away. He looks around twenty, with dark hair falling messily across his forehead and sharp, defined features. Covered in blood and barely conscious, he seems strangely powerful despite his helpless state. I take one cautious step closer. Then another. My instincts tell me to stay away. But another part of me—the part I don't understand—feels strangely drawn to him. I crouch beside him, my heart pounding. I don't know his name. I don't know where he came from. And I have no idea what kind of creature could have left those wounds on his body. But as I stare down at the mysterious stranger lying unconscious in the moonlight, one terrifying thought refuses to leave my mind. Those wounds look exactly like the ones that took my parents from me.