Riley
The school hallways feel smaller today. Tighter. Every whisper sounds like my name. Every glance feels like an accusation. The air is thick with the fallout from the cafeteria, a social poison that has me as its only target.
I can’t face the bus. I can’t face the thought of getting on that rolling tin can and feeling all their eyes on me. So I walk.
My feet carry me away from the school, toward the small, sleepy main street of Silvermoon Creek. It’s a place of quaint storefronts and old brick buildings. It feels like a town trapped in time. I find myself stopping in front of a store with a faded green awning. ‘Blackwood Books,’ the gold lettering on the window reads. Of course it is. Everything here is theirs.
Despite the name, I push the door open. A little bell chimes, announcing my arrival into a world of quiet and the comforting smell of old paper and leather.
It’s a sanctuary. Rows upon rows of books, stacked from floor to ceiling. The silence is a balm on my frayed nerves. I run my fingers along the spines, losing myself in the titles.
“Finding anything interesting?”
The voice is smooth and familiar. It sends a jolt through me, half warmth, half alarm. I turn slowly.
Caleb Blackwood is leaning against the end of the aisle, a small, sad-looking plant in a ceramic pot held in one hand. He’s not wearing his usual smirk. His blue eyes are clear and serious.
“Just browsing,” I say, my voice tight. My hand drops from the books.
“This place is better than the school library,” he says, offering a small smile. “Quieter. Less… judgmental.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Something you know a lot about.”
He has the grace to look chagrined. He walks toward me, his steps quiet on the creaking wooden floorboards. “That’s actually why I’m glad I ran into you. I wanted to apologize.”
I cross my arms over my chest. A shield. “For which part? The public humiliation attempt or the cornering me in the hallway part?”
“All of it,” he says, his sincerity cutting through my defensiveness. “My brother… he has a certain way of doing things. He’s sharp edges and broken glass. I’m supposed to be the one who smooths things over, and I failed at that. Spectacularly. I’m sorry, Riley.”
He uses my name and it feels different coming from him here, away from the prying eyes of the school. It feels… real.
“And the cafeteria?” I ask, not ready to let him off the hook. “The tripping incident that saved me from a chocolate milk bath. Was that you too?”
His smile turns into a genuine grin, and it transforms his face. The sunshine I sensed before breaks through the clouds. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Seems like Bianca’s friend is just clumsy.”
He’s quoting his own lie from yesterday, and a small laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “Right. Clumsy.”
“Why did you do it?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me. “It made her look like an idiot. It made you look like you were on my side.”
“Because what she was doing was weak,” he says, his voice losing its lighthearted tone. He sets the little plant down on a nearby table. “An Alpha leads through strength, not through petty cruelty. Humiliating you in front of everyone… that’s not strength. It’s fear.”
“Fear? Of what? Me?” The idea is laughable.
“Of change,” he says, his gaze intense. “You’re new. You’re different. And you don’t back down. That scares people like Bianca. It scares Jonah too, though he’d rather die than admit it.”
We stand in silence for a moment, the only sound the soft hum of the store’s old radiator.
“This town,” I say quietly. “The pack. The hierarchy. Maya tried to explain it to me. It feels… complicated.”
“It is,” Caleb agrees, his expression somber. “It’s a weight. Some days it feels like a path someone else laid out for you, and you have to walk it whether you want to or not. My father is the Alpha. His father was the Alpha before him. One day, it’ll be me and Jonah.”
“You don’t sound very excited about it.”
He lets out a short, humorless laugh. “It’s not about excitement. It’s about duty. It’s about protecting our own. It’s about making sacrifices for the good of the whole.” He looks at me, and I see a flicker of something in his eyes. A weariness that seems too old for his face. “Sometimes the sacrifices start long before you ever take the title.”
He seems so different from the arrogant golden boy at school. This version of him is thoughtful. Burdened. The anger I’ve been holding onto starts to dissolve, replaced by a confusing sympathy.
“What’s with the sad plant?” I ask, changing the subject. It feels too heavy all of a sudden.
He looks down at the droopy succulent. “It’s for my mom. She has a greenhouse. She says I have a black thumb. This is my attempt to prove her wrong. Another spectacular failure, it seems.”
“You’re overwatering it,” I say, stepping closer to inspect it. “And it needs more light. The leaves are supposed to be tight rosettes, not stretched out like that.”
He looks from the plant to me, a look of genuine surprise on his face. “How do you know that?”
“My dad was a botanist,” I say, the words catching in my throat. I rarely talk about him. The ache is still too fresh. “He taught me a few things.”
“I’m sorry,” Caleb says softly, his voice full of a warmth that has nothing to do with pity. It’s pure empathy. He sees the pain in my eyes and doesn’t push. He just acknowledges it.
“It’s okay,” I lie, turning my attention back to the bookshelves. I pull out a worn paperback copy of an old classic, the cover soft from years of handling.
“Good choice,” Caleb says from behind me. He’s closer than I realized. I can feel the heat radiating from his body. I can smell the ozone and fresh air that seems to cling to him. “I read that one a few years ago. For school. I thought I was going to hate it.”
“And did you?” I ask, turning to face him. We’re standing in the narrow aisle, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
“No,” he says, his voice a low murmur. “I loved it. Don’t tell Jonah. He’d say it’s made me soft.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” I whisper.
His blue eyes search my face, and that strange pull, that impossible warmth, spreads through my chest again. It’s a dangerous feeling. It makes me want to lean in, to close the small distance between us. His gaze drops to my lips for a fraction of a second before returning to my eyes.
The world seems to shrink to just this aisle, just the smell of old books and the overwhelming presence of the boy in front of me.
The bell above the door jingles, a shrill sound that shatters the moment like glass. We both jump back, putting a respectable distance between us.
“Caleb? What are you doing in here?”
Bianca’s voice is sharp, cutting through the quiet of the bookstore. She walks toward us, her heels clicking an aggressive rhythm on the floorboards. Her eyes, cold as a winter lake, flick from Caleb to me, and her perfectly painted smile tightens.
“Bianca,” Caleb says, his easy charm gone, replaced by a slight tension in his shoulders. “I was just picking something up for my mom.” He gestures to the pathetic plant.
“And accosting the new girl, apparently,” she says, her tone light, but her gaze on me is anything but. She glides to Caleb’s side, linking her arm through his in a blatant act of ownership. “I was looking for you. We’re supposed to meet Marcus at the diner.”
“Right. I forgot,” Caleb says, but he doesn’t look at her. He looks at me, an apology in his eyes.
“Well, we should go,” Bianca says, pulling on his arm. She turns her body, blocking me from Caleb’s view. He takes a step toward the counter to pay for the plant, his back to us for only a moment.
It’s all the time she needs.
She leans in close, her beautiful face transformed into an ugly mask of hatred. Her voice is a venomous whisper, for my ears only.
“I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, you pathetic little stray,” she hisses, her breath hot against my ear. “But let me make it very clear. He is not for you. This town is not for you.”
My blood runs cold. I feel rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the pure malice in her voice.
“You are a temporary problem,” she continues, her voice dropping even lower. “And I am very, very good at solving problems. Stay away from him. Stay away from both of them. Or I will make you wish you’d never even heard the name Silvermoon Creek.”
She pulls back just as Caleb turns around, a bright, fake smile plastered on her face. “Are you ready, Caleb?”
He looks between us, a frown creasing his brow. He senses the shift in the air. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything is perfect,” Bianca says, her voice sickly sweet. She gives my shoulder a patronizing pat. “We were just getting acquainted.”
She tugs on his arm again, harder this time, and leads him toward the door. Caleb gives me one last look over his shoulder, a mixture of confusion and regret in his eyes. Then they’re gone, the bell chiming their exit.
I’m left alone in the silent bookstore. The warmth from my conversation with Caleb has vanished completely, replaced by an icy dread that seeps into my bones. The worn book in my hand feels heavy, like a stone.
This town isn’t just a hunting ground.
It’s a minefield. And I just watched my enemy lay a fresh one right at my feet.
