---
Beacon Hills High looked the same—but Alex didn't.
The building stood like a relic of a time that had forgotten how strange this town truly was. Brick walls, faded lockers, and the same dull fluorescent lights buzzing in the ceiling. Teenagers laughed, argued, kissed, and complained about homework like nothing was happening. Like there wasn't something in the woods watching all of them.
Alex stepped through the main doors, the scent of paper, sweat, and teenage angst hitting him all at once. He braced himself against the tide of sensations—every footstep, every conversation, every heartbeat slamming into his heightened senses.
His mark tingled beneath his sleeve.
He passed by Lydia again. Her head turned slightly as he walked by, just for a second. She didn't say anything, but her eyes narrowed like she was trying to place him—like she'd seen something like him before.
In chemistry class, Alex sat two seats behind Scott McCall.
Scott shifted uncomfortably, glancing back more than once. His wolf sensed something too.
When class ended, Alex was the last to leave. Scott lingered by the doorway, leaning casually but clearly waiting for him.
"You're new," Scott said.
Alex nodded. "Kinda. Born here. Moved back."
Scott's eyes scanned him, cautious. "You smell... off."
Alex raised a brow. "Perfume's not your thing?"
Scott didn't smile. "You're not a normal werewolf."
Alex stared at him for a beat too long. "Neither are you."
That made Scott pause. It was the truth, after all—Scott had been turned by an alpha bite. He wasn't born into it. And he wasn't just any beta either. Alex could feel the quiet storm of power in him—restrained, coiled like a spring.
"Stay out of trouble," Scott said at last.
Alex didn't answer.
But trouble had already found him.
Later that day, during gym, the coach decided a little "friendly competition" was in order. Flag football. Alex had no interest in showing off, but his body had other plans.
Every time someone tried to tackle him, he moved like liquid shadow—too fast, too agile. One jock swore Alex had disappeared for a second before reappearing ten feet away with the flag in hand.
Whispers started before the final whistle blew.
When Alex went to the locker room, Jackson Whittemore was waiting.
"Nice moves," Jackson said, arms crossed. "You play before?"
"Nope," Alex replied.
"You're not just some new guy, are you?"
Alex didn't flinch. "Do you want the truth, or something you'll actually believe?"
Jackson smirked. "I don't believe in monsters."
Alex leaned in, voice low. "Then you haven't been looking hard enough."
That night, Alex sat on the roof of his house, legs dangling over the edge. The mark on his wrist pulsed softly beneath the moonlight.
He wasn't hiding anymore.
Beacon Hills High was watching him now.
So were the monsters in the dark.
---
Chapter 6: Hunters and Shadows?