Chapter 49 FOURTY nine
Koda kept dragging Harper down the empty corridor, his grip on her wrist like iron. Her sneakers squeaked against the linoleum, heart slamming against her ribs. The noise from the gym faded behind them—shouts, whistles, teachers yelling for order—but it still echoed in her ears like distant thunder.
He didn’t slow down.
He didn’t speak.
Just pulled her past rows of closed lockers, past flickering fluorescent lights, until he reached a door at the far end of the hall—an old, unused classroom with a faded “STORAGE” sign taped crookedly over the window.
He shoved the door open with his shoulder.
Pushed her inside.
The door slammed shut behind them.
Click.
He locked it.
The room smelled of dust, old chalk, and forgotten paper. Sunlight slanted through half-closed blinds in thin, dusty bars. Desks were stacked against one wall. A single chair sat in the middle of the floor like it had been waiting.
The One turned.
His eyes were still black—pools of nothing. No white. No mercy.
“What was that about, huh?” he yelled, voice cracking the silence like a whip.
Harper flinched. Just a little. Enough for him to notice.
He stepped closer. Towered over her.
“How dare you stop me.”
His hand shot out. Grabbed her by the cheeks—fingers digging in, not hard enough to bruise yet, but close.
“Do you think because I act calmly with you sometimes, it gives you the right to tell me what to do?”
His voice rose. Echoed off the bare walls.
Harper’s pulse roared in her ears. She could feel the tremor in his fingers—the rage barely leashed.
“Listen, Koda—”
“Shut the fuck up!” he roared.
The volume made her ears ring.
“Stop calling me Koda. You know I’m The One. So why do you keep saying his name like the rest of those pathetic people out there?”
His grip tightened. Harper winced.
“You want me gone, right?” he snarled. “You want Koda back in this body. Everyone thinks Koda owns it. Everyone thinks this skin belongs to him. But it’s mine. It’s always been mine.”
He released her face only to grab her arm—hard.
“You want me gone. Don’t you.”
Harper looked away. Couldn’t meet those black voids.
“Speak.”
He shoved her.
Not violent. Not yet.
But enough to make her stumble backward. Her back hit the edge of a stacked desk. Pain flared in her hip.
She caught herself. Breathed. Once. Twice.
She knew.
If she didn’t calm him now—if she didn’t reach him—he would lose it completely.
Not just Ryan.
Her too.
Harper exhaled slowly.
Then she stepped forward.
Before he could yell again, before he could shove her again, she lifted both hands to his face.
Cupped his jaw.
And kissed him.
Hard.
His eyes widened—black swallowing everything—but he didn’t push her away.
Instead his hands flew to her waist. Fingers dug into her sides. Pulled her flush against him.
The kiss started desperate—teeth clashing, breath ragged—but it deepened fast.
He took control.
No hesitation.
No gentleness.
He tilted her head back. Slanted his mouth over hers. Tongue pushing past her lips like he owned the taste of her.
Harper moaned—soft, involuntary.
His grip tightened.
He bit her lower lip.
Sharp.
She gasped. Opened for him.
He shoved his tongue deeper. Claimed. Devoured.
She kissed back just as hard—hands sliding into his hair, tugging, fighting for dominance even though she knew she would lose.
He won.
Easily.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathing like they’d run miles.
His eyes were still black.
But calmer.
The void had retreated—just a little. Edges softening. Flickers of brown bleeding through.
“You think kissing me is the solution to my madness?” he rasped. Voice rough. Eyes never leaving hers.
Harper managed a small, shaky smile.
“I’m glad you know this is madness.”
“Fuck you,” he muttered.
But the words came out broken. Almost a whimper.
She pulled him into her arms.
He didn’t fight.
Just let her hold him. Forehead dropping to her shoulder. Body trembling—not from rage anymore. From something else.
Something fragile.
“You should have let me kill him,” he said against her neck. Quiet now. Almost pleading.
“No one wants to see that,” she whispered back.
His arms came around her waist. Tight. Like he was afraid she’d vanish.
“They already saw too much,” he said. “They saw strength that isn’t human. They saw me lift a wolf like it was nothing. They’re going to talk. They’re going to wonder.”
“Let them wonder.”
He pulled back just enough to look at her.
“You’re not scared of me.”
“I’m terrified of you,” she corrected. “But I’m more scared of losing him. And right now… you’re both.”
His eyes flickered again—brown bleeding through the black like dawn breaking over night.
“I almost took his soul,” he admitted. Voice cracking. “Right there. In front of everyone. I could taste it. Warm. Bright. Ripe.”
Harper cupped his face again.
“But you didn’t.”
“Because you asked.”
“Because you listened.”
Silence stretched between them. Heavy. Fragile.
He rested his forehead against hers.
“I don’t want to be the monster,” he whispered.
“Then don’t be.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“It never is.”
She brushed her thumb over his cheekbone. Felt the faint tremor there.
“But you stopped. That’s something.”
He closed his eyes.
“I hate how much I need you.”
“I know.”
“I hate that you’re the only thing that keeps him alive in here.”
“I know.”
He opened his eyes. Brown now. Mostly. The black lingered at the edges like smoke.
“I don’t deserve this,” he said quietly. “Any of it.”
Harper leaned up. Kissed him again—soft this time.
Slow.
Gentle.
A promise.
“You don’t have to deserve it,” she murmured against his lips. “You just have to keep fighting for it.”
He exhaled. Shaky.
Then he kissed her back.
Not rough.
Not claiming.
Just… there.
Present.
Human.
When they separated, he didn’t let go.
Just held her.
In the dusty, forgotten classroom.
With sunlight cutting bars across the floor.
With the distant sound of school life continuing outside.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“For what?”
“For scaring you. For almost… for everything.”
Harper wrapped her arms tighter around his neck.
“Don’t be sorry. Just stay.”
He buried his face in her shoulder.
“I’m trying.”
She stroked his hair.
“That’s enough.”
They stayed like that until the bell rang—distant, muffled, signaling the end of the period.
He pulled back slowly.
Looked at her.
Eyes brown now. Tired. But his.
“Koda?” she asked softly.
He nodded. Once.
“It’s me.”
She smiled—small, relieved.
He brushed a strand of hair from her face.
“We should go. Before someone finds us.”
“Yeah.”
He unlocked the door.
Opened it.
The both of them left, Molly came from behind. "Who is the one" she uttered curiously