After his conversation with Mia, Ethan's heart raced with a giddy thrill that briefly drowned out the ever-present shadow of Ryan and the supernatural chaos swirling around him. The school's gray halls felt less oppressive, the foggy October air outside less suffocating, as he strode through the corridors in search of Jamie. He'd done it—he'd asked Mia out, and she'd said yes. The victory buzzed in his chest, a rare burst of normalcy amid the madness of his Hellhound transformation. All he wanted now was to find his best friend and bask in the moment.
He spotted Jamie sprawled across a weathered bench in the courtyard, one leg dangling lazily as he scrolled through his phone. Ethan dropped beside him, unable to suppress the smug grin tugging at his lips. Before he could get a word out, Jamie glanced up, his hazel eyes narrowing with mock suspicion. "Judging from that smug face of yours, you must have something to brag about. What is it? Spit it out."
Ethan straightened, puffing out his chest just a little. "Well, my friend, guess who's going on a date this weekend."
Jamie's grin widened, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "Let me guess—Mrs. Henderson, the lunch lady? She's been eyeing you ever since you said her meatloaf wasn't half bad."
Ethan rolled his eyes, his tone dry. "Real funny, Jamie. No, I landed a date with Mia. This weekend. I didn't think she'd agree when I asked her, but she did."
Jamie let out a whoop of laughter, clapping Ethan on the shoulder. "That's great, man! But you're not gonna ditch me now that you've got her attention, are you?" He pulled an exaggerated pout, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
Ethan snorted, leaning back against the bench's splintered wood. "Yeah, no way I'm hanging out with a single loser like you."
Jamie clutched his chest as if wounded, then waved a hand dramatically, pretending to adjust invisible glasses. "Well, if I think about it carefully, we're both single losers right now. Behold, the tragic tale of two bachelors!"
They locked eyes, holding the serious facade for a split second before erupting into laughter. The sound bounced off the courtyard's brick walls, cutting through the damp air. For a brief, golden moment, the weight of the past weeks—the ritual, the fire, Ryan's crimson glare—melted away. It was just them, like it used to be, before the supernatural had upended their lives. Ethan clung to the feeling, knowing it was fleeting.
The bell's shrill ring shattered their bubble, and they hauled themselves up, joining the stream of students heading to class. The day blurred into a haze of lectures and scribbled notes, Ethan's mind drifting between Mia's shy smile and the gnawing tension of Ryan's avoidance. He caught glimpses of Ryan in the halls—always at a distance, always slipping away—but the confrontation loomed closer with every passing hour.
The final period brought P.E., a chaotic game of basketball that left the gym echoing with squeaking sneakers and shouted taunts. Ethan moved cautiously, dribbling the ball with a restraint that made his muscles ache. His enhanced strength hummed beneath his skin—he could've slammed the ball through the hoop from across the court—but he held back, blending in with the panting, sweat-soaked crowd. Exposure wasn't an option.
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Ryan's POV
Today's been a slog. Pretending to mourn Jaxson and Carter while enduring the endless pity from these annoying brats—it's enough to make my skin crawl. Every "I'm so sorry" and teary glance grinds against my patience, but I play along, nodding solemnly. They're a perfect shield, though, keeping Ethan's suspicious stares at bay. He and Jamie have been watching me all day, their whispers and sidelong glances screaming that they're up to something. Let them plan, I think, irritation simmering. It won't matter soon.
At lunch, I dragged Frank to a shadowed corner of the courtyard, we watched Ethan through the streaked windows. He was laughing with Mia, his guard down, his eyes bright. He still likes her, I realize, a cold smile tugging at my lips. If Ethan poroves to much to handle, Mia could be the key—a soft target to twist if things escalate. Jamie's trickier; he's glued to Ethan's side. But Mia… she's vulnerable.
The day crawled on, and Ethan gave nothing away—no slip-ups, no hints of his supernatural side breaking through. Is he that good at hiding it, or is he still clueless? The question gnaws at me. A true hunter blends with their prey, masking their claws until the kill. If Ethan's mastered that, he's a bigger threat than I anticipated.
P.E. sharpened my suspicions. During the basketball game, I caught it—Ethan's movements were too controlled, his strength leashed. He could've dominated, but he didn't. I shot Frank a look, and he nodded, his jaw tight. He's holding back. Is it a trap, baiting us to strike? Or is he genuinely struggling to adjust? The uncertainty coils in my gut. I can't misjudge him—not with Lady Freya's wrath hanging over us all.
Time's slipping away. If she finds out about Ethan, we're finished. I need a move, and I need it now. P.E. finally ends, and we head to the locker room, the air thick with steam and the sour tang of sweat. The showers roar, hot water pounding my shoulders, but then I hear it—Ethan's voice, low and urgent, cutting through the noise and it made me to be excited it was what i was waiting for, important information.
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Third Person POV
After P.E., Ethan and Jamie slipped into the locker room, the humid air clinging to their skin as steam swirled around them. They tucked themselves into a corner by the lockers, voices hushed, eyes darting to ensure no one lingered too close. The distant hiss of showers masked their words—or so they thought.
"So, what's your plan?" Jamie murmured, leaning in. "You gonna talk to Ryan as we leave, or outside school? What's the move?"
Ethan pressed his back against the cold lockers, grounding himself. "I think it's best to catch him in the parking lot. I just want this over with—not knowing what's happening to me is driving me insane."
Jamie nodded, his brow creasing with worry. "Okay, that's solid. You want me to come with?"
Ethan hesitated, then shook his head. "No, I think it's better if I go alone. We don't know the supernatural rules—if humans aren't supposed to know about this stuff, you could be in danger."
"That's fair," Jamie said, though his frown lingered. "Just… watch yourself, okay?"
They lingered there, ironing out details, oblivious to the peril inches away. In a room teeming with vampires—whose heightened senses pierced through the steam and noise—privacy was a delusion. Across the space, Ryan and Frank stood beneath the showers, water streaming over them, but their ears latched onto every word. Ryan's lips curled into a slow, predatory grin. Got you.