Chapter 61 Chapter 60
Harper’s POV
The wind roared past my ears like a freight train, tearing at my hair, my clothes, my skin. My stomach flipped inside out as the rooftop shrank above me—smaller, smaller, until it was just a gray rectangle against the sky. Below, the parking lot rushed up to meet me: concrete, cars, death. Four stories. No chance. No miracle.
I couldn’t believe this was how I was going to die.
The power that had been haunting me for weeks—the scream that threw beasts across walls, the pulse that sent Molly flying this morning—was gone. Silent. Absent. Like it had never existed. Like it had only ever been a cruel joke.
I was just Harper again.
A nobody.
Worthless.
And I was going to die a worthless way—pushed off a roof by jealous bullies because I dared to stop one of them from murdering a freshman.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Braced for the impact.
The bone-crushing snap.
The darkness.
“I’m coming to meet you, Dad,” I whispered.
Waiting.
For pain.
For nothing.
But nothing came.
No crunch.
No blackout.
Just wind.
And the strange, impossible feeling of lifting.
My body wasn’t falling anymore.
It was rising.
I snapped my eyes open.
The parking lot was getting farther away.
The rooftop was coming back into view—gravel, chain-link fence, the low wall I’d been pushed over.
“What’s happening?” I breathed.
The wind still howled, but it wasn’t dragging me down.
It was carrying me up.
Higher.
Slower.
Until my sneakers touched gravel again.
I stumbled forward, knees buckling.
I caught myself on all fours.
Breathing hard.
Shaking.
“I’m alive,” I whispered.
I touched my arms, my chest, my face—half expecting to feel blood, broken bones, something that proved I’d actually died and this was some dying hallucination.
Nothing.
Just skin. Just heartbeat. Just me.
“But how?”
I looked down at my hands.
They trembled.
No glow.
No spark.
No power.
I felt nothing.
No hum under my skin.
No surge.
Just cold fingers and a racing pulse.
I stared at them like they belonged to someone else.
The rooftop was empty.
No Molly.
No Terrible Four.
No phones.
No laughter.
Just wind rattling the chain-link fence and distant traffic below.
I pushed myself to my feet.
Legs wobbled.
I walked to the edge—slow, careful—and looked over.
The parking lot stared back.
Empty.
No body.
No blood.
No sign I’d ever fallen.
I backed away fast.
My heel caught on gravel.
I stumbled again.
Sat hard.
Hugged my knees to my chest.
And cried.
Quiet, choking sobs that hurt my throat.
Because I didn’t understand.
Because I’d been ready to die.
Because I’d accepted it—accepted being nothing, being worthless, being gone—and now I was here.
Alive.
I couldn’t stop shaking.
My knees felt like they were made of water, my palms still stung from gravel and glass, and every breath came out ragged, like I’d been running for miles instead of falling for four seconds that felt like forever. The rooftop door had just slammed shut behind Molly and the Terrible Four, their laughter echoing down the stairwell like they’d won something permanent. I was alone up here—wind tearing at my clothes, city noise humming far below, heart slamming so hard I thought it would crack my ribs open.
Then I heard it.
A voice. Low. Familiar. Dangerous.
“Well, that is because of me, princess.”
I spun around so fast my head spun with me.
Koda leaned against the rooftop doorframe, one shoulder braced on the metal, arms crossed over his chest. His dark red hair caught the late-afternoon sun, turning it almost black at the roots. But it was his eyes that stopped my breath.
Black.
Pure black.
No white. No brown. Just endless void staring straight through me.
“The One,” I yelled—half sob, half relief.
I didn’t think.
I ran.
Straight into him.
My arms wrapped around his waist, face buried against his hoodie. He smelled like smoke and cedar and something sharper underneath—like blood and old magic. I squeezed so hard my fingers ached.
He went completely still.
For a second I thought he’d push me away.
Instead his hands lifted—slow, hesitant—hovering in the air like he didn’t know what to do with them.
Then one settled on my back.
The other on the back of my head.
Gentle.
Almost careful.
“Looks like someone was really scared,” he murmured against my hair. His voice was low, amused, but softer than usual. “Scared of rooftops, but not scared of me. How typical.”
I laughed—shaky, wet, muffled against his chest.
I didn’t care.
I was alive.
He was here.
I pulled back just enough to look up at him.
His black eyes searched my face—taking in the split lip, the red mark on my cheek, the tear tracks, the way my hands still trembled where they clutched his hoodie.
“Do I get a kiss too?” he asked, puckering his lips out in exaggerated hope.
I slapped his arm—light, playful, more reflex than anger.
“Ow,” he groaned, rubbing the spot dramatically.
I laughed again—real this time.
Then his expression shifted.
The amusement faded.
His eyes darkened further—if that was even possible—until they looked like twin holes punched into the night.
“Now give me names,” he said.
Voice low.
Cold.
Lethal.
“Who did this.”
I swallowed.
The rooftop wind still howled in my ears even though we were inside now, the metal door clanging shut behind us like a gunshot. My legs felt like jelly, but I kept moving—half running, half stumbling—down the stairwell, heart slamming against my ribs. The One’s footsteps echoed right behind me, steady, unhurried, like he knew exactly where I was going before I did.
“Names, princess,” he said again. Low. Patient. Dangerous.
I didn’t answer.
I couldn’t.
If I told him—Molly, Ryan, Silas, Nikos, Jacob, Claudia, Amy—he’d go after them. Right now. In the middle of school. In front of everyone. And he wouldn’t just scare them. He’d end them. I could already picture it: black eyes flaring, shadows stretching, bodies crumpling, blood on the tile, screams echoing down the halls. The whole school would see. The pack would know. The council would come. They’d drag him back to the dungeon—chains, silver, wolfsbane—and this time they wouldn’t let him out.
I couldn’t let that happen.
Not again.
Not after everything.
“Forget about it,” I said, voice shaking as I hit the bottom of the stairs and burst into the hallway.
He laughed—soft, dark, right behind me.
“You know I can just touch you and find out what happened here.”
His hand reached for my arm.
I jerked away—fast—dodging sideways and breaking into a run.
The hallway blurred past—lockers, posters, faces turning to stare.
I heard him chuckle.
Then his boots hit the tile behind me.
I ran faster.
Laughter bubbled out of me—wild, breathless, almost hysterical.
I couldn’t help it.
I’d almost died.
And now I was running from the thing that saved me.
From the thing that wanted to kill for me.
From the thing I’d let inside me last night.
From him.
Students started moving—fast, panicked.
Shouts.
Screams.
People running in the opposite direction.
I skidded around a corner and almost crashed into Catherine.
She grabbed my arms, eyes huge.
“What happened here?” I gasped.
“I don’t know,” she said, breathless. “Something—someone said there’s a body in the bathroom. Everyone’s freaking out.”
My stomach dropped.
A body.
I looked back.
The One stood at the end of the hall—hands in his pockets, leaning against a locker like he had all the time in the world.
He smiled at me.
Slow.
Knowing.
Black eyes glittering.
I swallowed.
Catherine tugged my arm.
“Come on—we need to get out of here.”
I ran with her.
Down the hall.
Past lockers.
Past terrified faces.
The school hall was a frozen tableau of shock and grief when we pushed through the double doors.
Students clustered in uneven knots—some hugging each other, some staring blankly, some crying openly. Teachers stood at the edges like sentinels who’d arrived too late, faces pale, hands useless at their sides. The overhead lights buzzed faintly, casting harsh white pools on the polished floor.
And in the center of it all lay Mia.
She was on her back, arms limp at her sides, dark hair fanned out like spilled ink. Her school uniform was rumpled but intact—no blood, no bruises, no visible wounds. Just… empty. Her eyes were open, staring at nothing. Her skin had already taken on that waxy, grayish tint that bodies get when life has been gone for a while. No rise and fall of her chest. No flutter of eyelids. Just a shell.
A girl—probably a friend—knelt beside her, sobbing so hard her whole body shook.
“How could this happen to Mia?” she wailed, hands hovering over the body like she wanted to shake it awake. “She was fine this morning. She was laughing.”
Catherine gripped my arm so tight her nails dug in.
I couldn’t look away.
The whispers started small, then swelled until they filled the room like smoke.
“This school is haunted.”
“Witches are back.”
“We have a demon in our midst.”
“Gosh, I’m so scared.”
“Wolves are more powerful than demons, right?”
The questions bounced off the walls, overlapping, frantic, desperate for someone—anyone—to answer them.
I scanned the crowd.
No Molly.
No Claudia.
No Amy.
No Ryan or the Terrible Four.
They weren’t here.
My stomach twisted.
Could they have done this?