He lifts his hand and the noise dies instantly. Like someone cut the power.
“Do you know what this night is, Maya?” he asks.
Out of the corner of my eye, Bolton is stone still. Not helping. Not even breathing, as far as I can tell.
“I thought it was a party,” I say, which earns me a few dry chuckles. Not the nice kind.
The man smiles—but there’s no warmth in it. More like a crocodile recognizing a snack. “Tonight, we honor the full moon. It’s not a celebration. It’s a reckoning.”
Yeah, okay. Super chill.
“I want to understand,” I tell him. It’s the only honest thing I’ve got.
He steps closer. Up close, the man feels like a mountain that learned how to speak. Not loud, but undeniable. He doesn't cast a shadow.He is one.
“You will.”
A howl splits the night air—pure and sharp, rising from the tree line. My spine snaps straight. It’s not human. Not even close. The Alpha closes his eyes like it’s a hymn. When he opens them again, his irises flash a silver blue that doesn’t belong in any biology textbook.
My pulse hiccups.
Bolton steps slightly in front of me, his stance shifting. Protective. Defensive.
“You brought her here,” the Alpha says—not to me, but to his son. Like I’m a delivery he didn’t order.
“She walks the edge between knowing and not,” he adds. “That edge cuts.”
Bolton doesn’t blink. “She won’t fall.”
“She may not have a choice.”
Okay. Nope. That’s enough ominous parental interaction for one night.
I step forward, jaw tight. “What does that mean?”
The Alpha doesn’t answer me. Typical.
Instead,he nods toward the rest of them. “Let the circle witness her,” he says. “Let the moon decide.”
The crowd begins to shift, students and strangers parting into a too-perfect ring around me and the fire. Instinctively, I step backward, but Bolton’s hand brushes my elbow. Not holding me in place. Just—there.
“What’s happening?” I whisper.
“They want to see if the moon recognizes you.” His voice is calm. Too calm.
“Recognizes me how?” I ask.
“If you’re one of us,” he says. “Tonight’s the night something shifts.”
My stomach flips. “What do you mean… something shifts?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
He doesn’t answer right away. Just looks at me with eyes that seem to hold too many secrets.
And suddenly… I’m not sure I want to know the answer.
Because something is happening.
A chant rises. Soft at first. One voice, low and rhythmic. Then another. And another. Like they’re building a sound bridge to somewhere old and wild. It’s not English. It’s... something else. I don’t know the words, but my bones do.
