I barely slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him. Tall and unnervingly still, with hair the color of smoke, like strands of moonlight woven into charcoal. His face was all sharp edges and shadows, beautiful in a way that made my skin prickle—high cheekbones, a strong jaw, lips that looked too soft for someone so dangerous. But it was his eyes that wrecked me—silver and endless, like liquid mercury, watching me like I was a question he'd waited centuries to answer. I'd drift off, only to jolt awake with the memory of his voice, a whisper so dark and possessive: You are mine. And I am yours.
By the time morning clawed its way in through the curtains, I felt like I hadn't rested at all. My limbs were heavy, my mind foggy, and my stomach churned with a mixture of dread and something else I didn't want to name.
I forced myself out of bed anyway.
Because what else was I supposed to do but that? Pretend everything was normal? Pretend I wasn't marked by a vampire or haunted by eyes that could see straight through me?
Pretend like my friends weren't dead, even though they had been alive just two days ago? Pretend like Belle wasn't planning this years charity ball? That Jordan wasn't representing the university in the swim tournament this season? That Callum didn't just get a new car for his 20th birthday last week?
I moved on autopilot, dragging a hoodie over my head and brushing my hair into a bun. I tried to eat. Half a banana. A bite of white bread. But my throat closed around every chew like my body was rejecting the idea of being normal. Of pretending.
I stood at the mirror again before I left, tugging the collar of my hoodie aside to stare at the mark. Two faint dots. That was all. But they might as well have been glowing for how much they changed everything.
I left the dorm, blending into the rush of students heading to their early classes. I kept my head down, letting the crowd pull me along like a current. It was easier that way—hiding in plain sight.
When I got to my history lecture, the room was already half full. I spotted Dove near the back, headphones in, legs crossed at the ankle, looking half-present at best. I slid into the seat beside her, and she barely glanced at me. She hadn't answered my texts last night. Not that I could blame her. We were all unraveling.
I tried to focus as the professor started talking, but it all sounded like static. My gaze kept drifting toward the windows. Toward the shadows. Every time someone moved too fast, or coughed, or shuffled their bag, my heart jumped.
Then the classroom door creaked open.
A campus security officer stepped in and murmured something to the professor. Everyone went silent.
The professor cleared his throat. "Tyler Beckham, please gather your things. You're wanted in the dean's office."
Tyler's head snapped up two rows ahead of me. His whole body tensed like someone had pulled a wire inside him. He stood stiffly, stuffed his notebook into his bag, and left without a word.
I didn't realize I was holding my breath until Dove leaned toward me and whispered, "You think it's about them?"
I nodded slowly.
We didn't even have to say their names. We didn't want to.
Dove and I exchanged a look. She knew. I knew. Something was happening. And whatever peace we were trying to scavenge for was about to vanish.
Ten minutes later, the security officer returned, and the professor sighed in annoyance as he listened. After a moment, he nodded and looked up, "Can a Aria and Dove please report to the Dean's Office immediately."
I froze.
So did Dove.
We stood up without question, making our way out of class. As we walked through the halls, Dove's pace picked up, and I had to jog a step to keep up with her.
"They're going to ask," she said, her voice low but firm.
I didn't answer.
She turned to me, eyes flashing. "They're going to ask what happened in that forest last night. What we saw. What we know."
"We don't know anything for sure," I muttered. "Who would even believe us, Dove? Vampires? We would sound insane."
Her jaw clenched. "I'm not going to lie. That would mean protecting those monsters."
I swallowed. "Then what are you going to do? Tell them that we watched blood-drinking monsters drag our friends into the dark and rip them into shreds? Tell them that somehow, when all of that happened, we managed to get out unscathed?"
The mark tingled on my neck. Partially unscathed.
She didn't answer right away.
"I'm not saying we tell everything," I continued. "But we have to be smart. If we sound crazy, they'll dismiss us. Maybe worse. They might think we did something to them."
She was quiet for a long moment as we turned the corner.
"I'm tired of pretending this didn't happen," she said, and that was the end of the conversation.
When we reached the dean's office, Tyler was already inside, sitting stiffly across from the Dean and a campus investigator. His eyes met mine briefly—red-rimmed, hollow—and then flicked away like it hurt to look at us.
We were ushered in and given chairs. The room was too bright. The air too still. The silence between questions too long.
They started simple.
Where did you go? Why did you go there?
Dove answered first. Her voice was calm. Too calm.
"We were just camping. We didn't know it was off-limits."
The dean didn't blink. "Why that location?"
She paused. "It was closer to the university, and a friend mentioned it was a good spot."
"And the friends you left with—when did you last see them?"
I looked down at my hands. They were clasped too tightly. My knuckles were white.
Dove inhaled. "When we were packing up. We all left at different times because we drove different cars. Aria and I left before everyone else did."
"Tyler hitched a ride. He said he was tired of being Callum and Bella's third wheel." I added, earning a look from the Dean.
The investigator tilted his head. "Did you hear from any of them after the three of you left?"
We all shook our heads, and the investigator scribbled down on a small notepad. He paused.
Then: "Do you believe they're alive?"
Tyler flinched.
Dove's hands curled into fists on her lap. Her jaw twitched.
And for a moment—I saw it. The fight in her. The truth sitting just behind her teeth, begging to be spoken.
But then she looked at me. Just for a second.
And she exhaled. "Why wouldn't they be? Why are we even here? Did something happen to them?"
The investigator cleared his throat, "We believe your friends got lost in the woods during your little camping trip, but we are looking into finding them."
The air left my lungs like someone had punctured me.
"Will they be okay?" Tyler asked softly, keeping his eyes down.
"We will do everything in our power to ensure that they are. You three are very lucky you made it out of those woods alive."
I looked up. "Why? Is there something in there?"
I knew the answer. Dove and Tyler knew it as well. When the investigator froze at my question and looked away, I realized something. He probably knew too.
"We will find your friends." Was all he said. "You're free to go back to class."
Dove stood up first, way too quickly, and she rushed out of the office. I followed behind her, and Tyler trailed after me.
We just lied to the police.
We stepped outside into the cold hallway, the three of us—me, Dove, and Tyler—too hollow to speak.
Then Dove turned to me.
"I was going to say something," she murmured. "I really was."
"I know," I said.
And I did.
But the truth didn't seem safe here.
And neither were we.