CRESCENT MOON RISING

CHAPTER THREE

Three days passed in a blur of orientation sessions, confusing maps, and the overwhelming sensation of being watched everywhere she went.

The official orientation was held in a cavernous hall that smelled of old stone and older magic. Sasha sat in the back, trying to disappear, while a succession of speakers droned on about class schedules, meal plans, and "appropriate supernatural conduct." Apparently, using magic to win arguments was forbidden. Using it to win athletic competitions was also forbidden, unless both parties agreed beforehand. Using it to influence grades was grounds for immediate expulsion.

Sasha took notes she didn't need, just to have somewhere to look.

The other students stared.

Not obviously—they were too sophisticated for that. But Sasha felt their eyes on her in the dining hall, in the hallways, in the quad during the brief breaks between sessions. Whispers followed her like shadows, too quiet for human ears but perfectly audible to her wolf-enhanced senses.

That's the new girl.

The one who came alone.

Did you see her aura? It's weird. Like nothing I've ever seen.

Professor Okonkwo said to keep an eye on her.

Hybrid. Has to be.

The word followed her everywhere. Hybrid. She heard it in the dining hall, in the bathrooms, in the library stacks when she thought she was alone. No one said it to her face. No one had to.

By the third day, Sasha had stopped leaving her room except for meals.

She told herself it was strategic. That she was observing, learning, figuring out who to trust. That hiding wasn't the same as being weak.

But late at night, alone in her narrow bed, she knew the truth. She was scared. Scared of being found out. Scared of being rejected. Scared of confirming everything Rhys Donovan had said before he'd even met her.

She hadn't seen Rhys again since that first night. Hadn't seen Luc either, despite his promise to "see her around." Part of her was relieved. Part of her was disappointed. Most of her was just tired.

The full moon rose on her fourth night at Veritas.

Sasha felt it before she saw it—a pull in her bones, a restlessness in her blood, the wolf pressing closer to the surface than it had in months. She'd hoped the university's wards would dampen the effect. Instead, they seemed to amplify it, as if the magic in the air fed her own, made it hungrier, made her hungrier.

She sat on her bed as darkness fell, trying to meditate. Trying to breathe. Trying to remember everything her grandmother had taught her about control.

The wolf is part of you, Grandma had said. Not a monster. Not an enemy. A part. You can't control what you're fighting.

Easy to say when you were a pure witch who'd never felt claws scrabbling under your skin.

The moon rose.

Sasha gasped.

Power flooded through her, wild and overwhelming—magic and wolf tangled together, feeding on each other, amplifying each other until she could barely tell where one ended and the other began. Her skin tingled. Her vision sharpened. Sounds that had been distant became close—conversations in other rooms, footsteps in the hallway, someone's heartbeat three floors up.

Too much. It was too much.

She pressed her palm against the window, needing something solid, something real. The glass was cold against her skin. The moon was a perfect silver circle, so bright it hurt to look at.

In for four. Hold for four. Out for four.

The glass fogged beneath her hand. Then cracked—a spiderweb of fractures spreading from her fingertips, silver lines catching the moonlight like frozen lightning.

"Not now," she whispered. "Not now, not now, not now—"

The cracks spread faster.

Sasha jerked her hand back, but it was too late. The window shattered inward, glass exploding across the hardwood floor in a glittering wave. She stood frozen in the middle of it, heart hammering, arms raised to protect her face, magic crackling along her skin in visible blue sparks.

The door burst open.

Sasha spun, ready to fight, ready to flee, ready for anything except the girl who stood in the doorway with takeout containers and absolutely no fear.

"You might want to work on your entrance music."

The girl was tall—taller than Sasha—with dark skin and braids pulled back from a face that managed to look both amused and concerned. She wore jeans and a sweater, nothing special, but there was something in her eyes that said I've seen weird before, and this doesn't even c***k the top ten.

She held up the takeout containers like a peace offering. "Thai food. Figured you hadn't eaten since you got here, and new kid energy is real." She glanced at the shattered window, the glass covering the floor, the blue sparks still fading from Sasha's arms. "Also your window is broken."

Sasha stared at her. "Who are you?"

"Maya." She stepped inside carefully, bare feet navigating the glass with supernatural precision. She didn't flinch when a shard crunched under her heel. Didn't ask questions. Just moved like she belonged here. "Your RA sent me. Apparently you've been in here for three days straight, and the 'welcome wagon' is supposed to make sure you're not dead." She set the containers on the desk, eyeing Sasha with open curiosity. "You're not dead. You're just... sparkly."

Sasha wrapped her arms around herself, embarrassed and defensive and desperately grateful all at once. "It's the moon. It makes my magic—"

"Weird? Uncontrollable? Prone to breaking expensive university property?" Maya grinned, and it transformed her whole face—made her look young and warm and nothing like the assessing witches Sasha had been avoiding all week. "Welcome to Veritas. That's basically the admissions requirement." She pulled out Sasha's desk chair and sat like she owned the place, crossing her legs and grabbing one of the takeout containers. "Eat. I'll tell you who to avoid, who to sleep with, and why you should never, ever go to the east wing of the library after midnight."

Sasha hesitated, then moved to the desk. The food smelled incredible—spicy and warm and achingly normal. She couldn't remember the last time someone had brought her anything just to be kind. Couldn't remember the last time someone had looked at her like she was interesting instead of threatening.

"Why shouldn't I go to the east wing?" she asked, prying open the container. Pad Thai. Her favorite. Coincidence? Probably not.

"Because that's where the pureblood wolves hang out, and they're not big fans of..." Maya gestured vaguely at Sasha's skin, which had finally stopped glowing. "Whatever you are."

Sasha's chopsticks paused halfway to her mouth. "I'm a witch." The lie came automatically, the way it always did.

Maya's eyebrow arched. "Honey, I'm a witch. My grandmother taught me to read auras before I could walk. She had me identifying witch signatures at age four and diagnosing magical imbalances at age six." She leaned forward, eyes sharp but not unkind. "You were glowing blue—that's not witch energy. That's something else." She tilted her head, studying Sasha like a particularly interesting puzzle. "What are you really?"

Sasha's magic flared in warning. The takeout container sizzled.

Before she could answer—before she could even decide if she should answer—the door slammed open again.

This time without a knock.

The man in the doorway was huge. Broad-shouldered, dark-haired, with eyes that literally gleamed gold in the moonlight. A werewolf. Pureblood, if the arrogance on his face was any indication. He filled the frame like he owned it, like the whole building should bow when he walked through, like everyone in it existed at his pleasure.

He was also, Sasha noticed despite herself, infuriatingly beautiful. All sharp cheekbones and strong jaw and a mouth that looked like it hadn't smiled in years. Built like he'd been carved from mountain stone and left out in the weather.

"You're in my seat," he said, looking at Maya.

Maya didn't flinch. Didn't even look up from her food. "I'm in a chair. There are three others."

"That one's mine."

"Then you should have gotten here earlier." Maya took a deliberate bite of her noodles. "First come, first served. That's how chairs work."

Something flickered in those gold eyes. Annoyance, maybe. Or grudging respect. Sasha couldn't tell.

Sasha felt her magic spike again—defensive, territorial, wolf. She clenched her fists under the desk, forcing it down. Her grandmother's voice: Control is everything. Without control, you're just a weapon waiting to go off.

"Who are you?" she asked, proud that her voice stayed steady.

His gaze shifted to her, and something changed in his expression. The gold in his eyes brightened, just for a moment, as he inhaled slowly—actually smelled her, like she was something to be categorized, something to be judged.

"Rhys Donovan." He said it like the name should mean something. Like everyone in the supernatural world should know exactly who he was. "Head of campus security for the Northeast Pack." A pause. "And you're the hybrid everyone's talking about."

Sasha's blood went cold. "I'm not—"

"Yeah, you are." He stepped closer, ignoring the glass that crunched under his boots. Close enough that she caught his scent—pine and smoke and something wild, like forests after rain. Close enough that she could see the individual flecks of gold in his irises, the tension in his jaw, the way his hands had curled into fists at his sides. "I can smell it. Half wolf, half witch." His lip curled. "Must be confusing. Never knowing which side you belong to."

Maya stood slowly, positioning herself between them. "Rhys. Back off."

"I'm just welcoming the new student." But his eyes never left Sasha's face. They moved over her like he was cataloging every detail, every weakness, every strength. "Word of advice, hybrid. The purebloods don't want you. The witches won't trust you. And the vampires?" He laughed, low and cold. "They'll just want to study you."

He turned and walked out, leaving the door hanging open.

Sasha stood frozen, her magic a screaming pressure behind her ribs. The glass on the floor sparkled in the moonlight. Her hands were shaking. Her heart was pounding. Her wolf was raging at the insult, at the challenge, at the way he'd looked at her like she was less than nothing.

Maya touched her arm gently. "Ignore him. He's got issues."

"What if he's right?"

"About which part?"

Sasha looked at her broken window, at the moonlight streaming through, at the campus full of supernatural creatures who'd already decided she didn't belong. "All of it."

Maya squeezed her arm. "Eat your Thai food. We'll figure out the rest tomorrow."

But in the hallway, Rhys Donovan pressed his back against the wall and closed his eyes, confused by the feeling still lingering in his chest. He'd meant to intimidate her. Scare her off. Make sure the manufactured mutt knew her place.

Instead, he'd gotten close enough to really smell her—jasmine and ozone and something heartbreakingly human. Something that had no place in a creature who shouldn't exist.

And now he couldn't get the scent out of his head.

Couldn't stop thinking about the way she'd looked at him. Not afraid, not cowed, not anything he expected. Just... steady. Like she was seeing him, too. Like she was wondering what his deal was, the same way he was wondering about hers.

This is a problem, he told himself. She's a problem. Stay away from her.

But even as he thought it, he knew it was already too late.