The billionaire’s rogue:bound by blood

Hall way hunt

The matte-black Porsche Taycan glided into the senior parking lot of Hollow Creek High like a silent predator. Usually, Jaxson Thorne loved the weight of the steering wheel and the way the crowd parted for him—a sea of students admiring the "Golden Boy."

Today, the car felt like a coffin.

"Jax, breathe. You’re gripping the wheel so hard the leather is going to rip," Kaleb whispered from the passenger seat. His laptop was open on his knees, scrolling through a frantic stream of encrypted data. "Your heart rate is 115. You’re sitting still. If you walk in there looking like you’re about to murder someone, the 'Golden Boy' mask is done."

Jax forced his fingers to loosen, but he couldn't stop the low vibration in his chest. His hands were stuffed into expensive leather driving gloves—not for style, but to hide the Bevel. After the encounter in the woods last night, his claws hadn't fully retracted. They were jagged, obsidian shards that felt like they were vibrating with a life of their own.

"I can feel her, Kaleb," Jax rasped. His voice was deeper than it had been twenty-four hours ago, roughened by the shift that had nearly claimed him. "The Bond. It’s like a wire pulled tight from my chest to the north side of the building. She’s already here."

"Maya Silverton," Kaleb muttered, his eyes darting to the school’s entrance. "The girl who tried to put a silver bolt through your throat is currently in AP History. My hack into the school registry says she transferred in this morning. Her father doesn't play games, Jax. They aren't just here to scout; they’re here to occupy."

Jax stepped out of the car, and the sensory assault hit him like a physical blow. The smell of three thousand teenagers—body spray, cheap cafeteria food, anxiety, and hormones—swirled into a sickening cocktail. He adjusted his designer sunglasses, hiding the gold rings that still shimmered in the centers of his blue eyes.

"Thorne! Over here!"

The shout came from the steps. It was the varsity team, his 'subjects.' At the center of them stood Sarah Miller. She looked like a dream in a pleated white skirt and a silk top that cost more than most people’s rent. Her blonde hair caught the morning sun, and her smile was perfect.

But Jax’s new senses saw the truth. He didn't see a cheerleader; he saw the way the light didn't quite reflect in her eyes. He smelled the faint, metallic scent of the blood-bag she had likely drained for breakfast.

Sarah glided toward him, her movements too smooth, too feline. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and for a second, the coldness of her skin felt like a relief against his feverish heat.

"You’re late, babe," she whispered, her lips brushing his ear. Then, she stiffened. Her nostrils flared, and her grip on his shoulders tightened, her perfectly manicured nails digging into his blazer. "You smell... different. Like pine needles and... wet earth. And something else. Something sharp."

"Just a late-night run, Sarah," Jax lied, his heart hammering against his ribs. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. "You smell like a Silverton," she hissed, her voice dropping to a predatory octave. "Why do you have a Hunter’s scent on your skin, Jaxson?"

"Back off, Sarah," Jax warned, his own instinct flared.

The tension was broken by the sharp, rhythmic clack of combat boots on the pavement. The crowd of students parted again, but not out of admiration this time. It was out of fear.

Maya Silverton walked toward the entrance. She looked different in the light of day—less like a forest ghost and more like a tactical nightmare. She wore a black leather jacket and dark jeans, her storm-grey eyes fixed straight ahead.

As she passed Jax, the Blood-Bond snapped.

A jolt of electricity surged through Jax’s body, so violent that he stumbled. His vision flashed gold. He felt a sudden, crushing wave of Maya’s emotions: Guilt. Confusion. A hunger she couldn't explain.

Maya stopped dead in her tracks. She turned slowly, her gaze locking onto Jax’s. She didn't look like she wanted to kill him anymore. She looked like she was drowning and he was the only air.

"You," she breathed, the word barely audible over the chatter of the hallway.

"Maya," Jax replied, the name feeling like a prayer and a curse on his tongue.

The air between them turned static. Sarah looked between them, her blue eyes narrowing into slits of pure, vampiric jealousy. The "Golden Boy," the "Siren," and the "Hunter"—the three most dangerous predators in Hollow Creek—were standing in a triangle that was about to explode.

"Is there a problem here?"

The voice was deep, authoritative, and sent a chill down Jax’s spine that even the fever couldn't warm. Standing at the school’s double doors was Marcus Silverton. He was dressed in a suit that mimicked Julian Thorne’s wealth, but he carried a heavy, tactical case that screamed 'Executioner.' He was the new 'Head of Security' for the school—a fox officially guarding the hen house.

Marcus walked toward them, his eyes scanning Jax with the precision of a thermal scope. He stopped inches from Jax, his scent overwhelming—silver and old blood.

"Mr. Thorne," Marcus said, his voice a low rumble. "I’ve heard a lot about you from your foster father. A 'shining example' of the town's youth." He leaned in closer, his hand resting on Jax’s shoulder. It wasn't a friendly gesture; it was a test. "But you’re sweating, son. And your pulse is erratic. Are you feeling... ill?"

Jax felt the Bevel itching. The obsidian claws were inches from slicing through his leather gloves and into Marcus Silverton’s palm.

"Just a fever, sir," Jax managed, his voice a low growl he couldn't quite suppress. "I’ll be fine."

"I hope so," Marcus said, his eyes flicking to Maya, then back to Jax. "Hollow Creek has a pest problem. We’re starting a sweep of the campus today. Scent-drones, blood-testing in the gym, the works. We want to make sure everyone is... exactly who they say they are."

Maya stepped forward, her hand reaching out as if to stop her father, but she froze. She looked at Jax, and for a split second, the bond transmitted a single, clear thought from her mind to his: Run.

Jax didn't wait. He turned and walked into the school, Kaleb trailing behind him in a panic.

Once they reached the safety of the locker room, Jax collapsed against a row of lockers, the metal denting under his weight. He ripped off the leather gloves. His hands were shaking, the black claws fully extended, glowing with a faint, bioluminescent amber.

"They’re going to find me, Kaleb," Jax panted. "The drones, the blood tests... Marcus knows. He's just playing with his food."

"Not if I play back," Kaleb said, his fingers flying across his tablet. "I can loop the drone feeds. I can swap the blood samples in the school lab. But Jax... the Bond. I saw the way you looked at her. And I saw the way Sarah looked at you. You’re caught between a girl who wants to put you in a cage and a girl who wants to put you in a grave."

Jax looked at his claws—the Bevel that made him a Zenith, a king of a dead race. He felt the pull of Maya’s heart again, a steady, rhythmic thrumming in the back of his mind. She was in the library now. She was thinking about the blood they shared. She was thinking about the way his skin felt against hers.

"I can't stay the Golden Boy anymore, Kaleb," Jax said, his eyes flashing a permanent, predatory gold. "If they want a monster, I'll give them one. But I’m doing it on my terms."

Outside, the first of the Silverton drones rose into the air, its red "eye" scanning the campus for the Rogue signal. In the shadows of the library, Maya Silverton stared at her own reflection, touching the mark on her neck where Jax’s blood had burned into her skin.