The cold night air clung to the streets, the echoes of battle fading into silence. Lucien stood motionless in the alleyway, his sharp eyes scanning the empty darkness before him. His attacker had vanished, leaving behind only subtle traces of their presence—a displaced brick on the wall, a few scattered droplets of blood on the pavement. It was a clean retreat, but Lucien knew better.
They were still watching.
He exhaled slowly, adjusting the hood of his black hoodie. Chasing shadows was pointless. This wasn't a random encounter—it was a message. And he had received it loud and clear.
Without hesitation, Lucien turned away, his steps steady as he disappeared into the night.
---
The moment Lucien reached home, he shut his door and retrieved an untraceable phone from his drawer. His fingers moved swiftly over the keypad, dialing a number only he knew by memory.
After a brief pause, the call connected. A familiar voice answered.
"Falkner. You don't usually call us first."
Lucien's voice was calm, yet firm. "I was attacked."
A beat of silence. Then, a low chuckle. "So it begins."
Lucien's grip on the phone tightened. "Who are they?"
"If we knew, we would've warned you," the voice responded. "But we have... suspicions." The tone grew serious. "You're being hunted now, Falkner. And not just by one party."
Lucien remained silent, absorbing the information. He had already assumed as much.
"For now, lay low. Observe. The moment we have solid intel, we'll move."
"Understood," Lucien replied, his tone emotionless.
As the call ended, he sat on the edge of his bed, his mind running through every possible scenario. He wasn't afraid. If anything, he was ready.
---
The Next Day
Morning came, and Lucien entered the classroom as usual. His movements were as controlled as ever, yet something had changed.
From the moment he stepped in, Evelyn's gaze locked onto him.
She wasn't sure why, but something about him felt... off.
Her sharp eyes studied him carefully. He moved the same way—calm, precise, unreadable—but there was a faint tension in his posture, something only a keen observer would notice. And then, she saw it.
A small, thin scratch on his neck. Barely noticeable, but unmistakable.
"Lucien?" Evelyn called, testing him.
Lucien turned his gaze towards her, his expression unreadable. He knew she was watching.
Before Evelyn could say anything more, a familiar voice interrupted.
"Bro, what happened to you? You get in a fight with a werewolf last night?"
Lena, sitting across the room, smirked as she pointed at the faint scratch on Lucien's neck.
Lucien merely raised an eyebrow, giving her nothing.
Evelyn, however, didn't laugh. She kept her eyes on him for a moment longer before finally looking away.
Something was definitely wrong.
---
After school, Ryan followed Lucien to their usual training spot, his excitement barely contained.
"Alright, let's do this! I've been practicing—"
Lucien cut him off with a single glare.
"No more talking. Show me."
Ryan barely had time to react before Lucien launched at him.
Ryan swung, but Lucien sidestepped effortlessly. He moved so fast that Ryan barely had time to register the motion before a sharp strike hit his ribs, knocking him back.
"Too slow."
Ryan gritted his teeth, pushing himself up. He wouldn't give up.
Lucien continued the assault, pushing Ryan to his limits. Each attack was precise, calculated. Every movement forced Ryan to adapt, to think faster, to move smarter.
For a while, Ryan was completely overwhelmed. But then, something changed.
Lucien smirked slightly as Ryan began dodging better, his instincts sharpening. Good. He's learning.
By the end of the session, Ryan was covered in bruises, his breathing ragged—but his eyes burned with determination.
"Again." he demanded.
Lucien's gaze flickered with approval.
"Tomorrow."
---
That night, Lucien resumed his usual late-night jog. But this time, he was prepared.
His senses were heightened, his ears tuned to the slightest sound. He could feel it—someone was following him again.
But unlike last time, he didn't wait for them to strike.
Without breaking his pace, he suddenly changed direction, vanishing into the shadows. He moved like a phantom, cutting through the empty streets before finally stopping at an isolated alley.
Silence.
Then, from the darkness, a slow clap.
Lucien turned, his eyes narrowing as a figure stepped forward.
A voice, smooth and mocking, filled the air.
"So, you've really gone soft, huh?"
Lucien's expression didn't change, but inside, his mind sharpened like a blade.
Because he knew that voice.
And if they were here... that could only mean trouble.
---
End of Chapter.