The Hunter's Wolf Captive

Episode three

Chapter 003:

Total Locker Room War

The next morning, the fog was even thicker. Nyx walked down the main hallway of Shadowvale College, her boots clicking loudly against the marble floor. The students in the hallway immediately shrank back against the walls, clearing a path for her. They whispered, staring at her jacket and her dark hair, still terrified by how much she looked like the dead girl, Freya.

Nyx ignored them. She walked straight toward her locker, but as she got closer, she stopped.

Her locker was a disaster.

Someone had dumped a bucket of thick, dripping red paint all over the metal door. The paint looked exactly like fresh blood, pooling onto the floor. Scrawled across the center in messy, jagged letters were the words: ''LEAVE OR DIE.''Taped directly beneath the threat was a single, dead black rose.

A loud, mocking laugh echoed from down the hall.

Elara Sterling walked out of the crowd, flanked by three large, wealthy boys from the sports teams. Elara was the leader of the Tyrants, the group of rich kids who ruled the school. She wore an expensive, custom-tailored white uniform shirt, a short pleated skirt, and a cruel, arrogant smile.

"Do you like your welcome gift, trash?" Elara sneered, crossing her arms as she stopped in front of Nyx. "We don't like ghosts here. And we definitely don't like poor foster system garbage trying to take up space."Inside Nyx's mind, Leo went completely feral.

'Kill her. Tear her throat out in front of everyone.'

"Not yet," Nyx thought back, keeping her face completely calm. Her eyes didn't widen, and her shoulders didn't drop. She just looked at the dripping paint, then looked back at Elara.

"You waste your money on cheap paint, Elara," Nyx said, her voice smooth and cold. 

"If you wanted to scare me, you should have used your own blood."

The crowd of students gasped. Nobody had ever spoken to Elara Sterling like that.

Elara’s face turned bright red with pure rage. Her perfect, wealthy mask slipped. "You little b***h," she hissed. Elara stepped forward, her right hand flying out to violently shove Nyx’s shoulder to knock her to the ground in front of everyone.

To a normal human, Elara’s movement was fast. But to Nyx’s supernatural wolf reflexes, Elara was moving in slow motion.

Nyx didn't even flinch. Before Elara’s hand could touch her jacket, Nyx’s arm shot out like lightning. Her hand clamped down around Elara’s wrist with an iron, bone-crushing grip.

Elara choked out a sharp gasp, her eyes widening in sudden, agonizing pain. She tried to pull her hand back, but Nyx’s grip was like a steel vice.

"Let go of me!" Elara shrieked, her wealthy friends stepping forward to help.

But before the sports players could move, Nyx acted. With a cold smile, she twisted Elara’s wrist and slammed Elara’s open palm directly into the wet, thick red paint on the locker door. The paint smeared all over Elara's skin. Then, with a brutal, heavy shove, Nyx dragged Elara's paint-covered hand straight down the front of Elara’s pristine, expensive white uniform shirt, ruining it completely.

Nyx let go, and Elara stumbled backward, tripping over her own feet and crashing hard onto the floor.

The hallway went dead silent. Elara sat on the dirty marble, staring down at the massive, dripping red stain covering her white shirt, her hands shaking with utter humiliation. The fearsome leader of the Tyrants had been completely humbled in less than three seconds.

"What is going on here?"

A deep, dominant voice boomed through the hallway, making every student instantly freeze.

Mr. Creed walked out of the shadows at the end of the hall. He looked incredibly imposing, wearing a dark gray designer suit, his stormy eyes scanning the scene. He looked at Elara crying on the floor, then his gaze shifted to Nyx, who was standing tall and proud.

For a fraction of a second, a flash of pure amusement and dark pride crossed Mr. Creed’s sharp face. He loved seeing her fight back. But his expression instantly turned cold and professional as he stepped into the center of the crowd.

"Mr. Creed!" Elara cried out from the floor, pointing a shaking, paint-covered finger at Nyx. "She assaulted me! She ruined my uniform! Look at what she did!"

Mr. Creed didn't look at Elara. He kept his eyes locked tightly onto Nyx. He could smell the faint trace of Leo's aggressive energy rolling off her body, and his own hunter instincts flared. His ego was still bruised from her rejection yesterday, and he wanted her isolated. He wanted her where he could control her.

"Miss Claire," Mr. Creed said, his baritone voice echoing with absolute authority. "My office. Right now. You have just earned yourself an immediate detention, and you will spend the rest of the day cleaning this hallway."

Nyx didn't argue. She looked down at Elara, gave her a mocking, victorious smirk, and slung her backpack over her shoulder. She walked past Mr. Creed, intentionally brushing her shoulder against his arm as she passed. As she did, the heavy silver ring on his finger sent a sharp, warning shiver through her skin.

She knew exactly what he was doing. He wasn't punishing her; he was separating her from the pack of bullies to play his own dangerous mind games. And Nyx was more than ready to play.