Chapter 52 Fifty two
The crowd parted without anyone quite understanding why, bodies shifting instinctively like water around a stone. Heads turned, whispers rippled outward in waves, and the already fractured atmosphere of the party tightened another notch. Harper felt the shift before she saw it—Koda’s purposeful stride cutting through the chaos like a blade. Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard she tasted copper.
“Koda,” she hissed, lunging forward and seizing his arm. Her fingers dug into the sleeve of his black hoodie, but he didn’t even break rhythm.
She planted her feet, yanking harder. “Koda—stop!”
He kept walking.
Desperate, Harper spun toward the kitchen island where Kai still stood frozen, red cup halfway to his lips, confusion etching deep furrows between his brows. Their eyes met for a split second.
“What the hell is he doing?” Kai muttered, more to himself than to her.
Harper opened her mouth to answer, but the words never came.
A sharp, violent crack split the air overhead.
The skylight exploded inward. Glass rained down in glittering, lethal sheets. Screams detonated from every corner of the room. People scattered in blind panic—shoving, stumbling, falling over each other in a frantic tide toward the exits.
Two enormous shapes dropped through the broken opening and landed in low, predatory crouches. Black fur rippled over corded muscle, yellow eyes burned like sulfur lamps, claws long as daggers scraped the hardwood. Rogue shifters—fully shifted, no trace of humanity left in their postures.
They didn’t hesitate.
They charged straight for Manson.
Manson’s cup slipped from numb fingers and shattered on the floor. He staggered backward, eyes wide with sudden, animal terror. He hadn’t even begun to shift—fur hadn’t started to ripple across his skin—when the first beast reached him. Jaws clamped around his shoulder with a wet crunch. The second raked claws down his chest, opening deep red furrows through fabric and flesh.
Manson’s scream was high, raw, almost inhuman.
Blood sprayed in a bright arc, spattering the nearest wall.
Harper’s stomach lurched so violently she nearly doubled over.
“Koda—stop this!” she yelled over the pandemonium, voice cracking.
He stopped walking.
Slowly, deliberately, he turned to face her.
His eyes were black—pure, endless black. No white. No iris. Just void.
A slow, cruel smile curved his mouth.
“Enjoy the show, babygirl,” he said, voice low and amused.
Then he laughed—low, dark, genuinely delighted.
The sound chilled Harper to the marrow.
She couldn’t let this happen.
Couldn’t let The One slaughter Manson in front of a room full of witnesses.
Couldn’t let him expose the monster to the entire school.
Panic clawed up her throat and tore free in a scream—not words, just pure, desperate sound ripping from somewhere deep inside her chest.
The scream wasn’t human.
It carried power.
An invisible shockwave erupted outward.
Red solo cups launched off every surface. Bottles exploded in sprays of glass and liquor. People were hurled backward like leaves in a gale, slamming into walls and furniture. The two beasts were ripped clean off Manson’s body—hulking forms tumbling through the air before crashing into the far wall with bone-shattering force. Plaster rained down in white clouds.
Someone yanked the auxiliary cord; the music died mid-beat.
Silence crashed in, broken only by whimpers, gasping breaths, and the slow drip of blood.
Harper didn’t hesitate.
She sprinted forward through the wreckage.
Manson lay crumpled against the baseboard, shirt shredded, shoulder mangled, chest raked open to glistening red. His breathing came in shallow, wet rasps.
She dropped to her knees beside him. “Are you okay?” Her hands hovered, afraid to touch anywhere that might hurt worse.
He coughed—blood flecked his lips. “No… I almost got mauled by two beasts.”
His voice trembled.
Then he really looked at her.
Eyes wide—shock, awe, maybe fear.
“You… you did that?”
Harper swallowed hard.
Before she could speak—
Growls.
Low. Menacing. Hungry.
They both whipped around.
The beasts were already rising, shaking off debris, yellow eyes locked on them. Blood dripped from their jaws in thick strings.
Manson let out a high, panicked scream.
Then he shoved her—hard.
Harper stumbled backward and hit the floor on hands and knees, palms slicing open on fresh glass.
Manson scrambled upright—ignoring the blood pouring from his wounds—and bolted for the patio doors.
He didn’t look back.
He left her there, sprawled between him and the monsters.
The betrayal landed heavier than the fall.
One beast took a deliberate step forward. Claws clicked ominously on the hardwood. Yellow eyes fixed on her.
Harper’s breath caught.
She scrambled backward, palms sliding through blood and glass, stinging cuts she barely registered.
The second beast growled—low, impatient.
They stalked closer.
Harper’s heart thundered in her ears.
People were still fleeing—screaming, piling out doors, trampling each other in panic.
Kai was shoving desperately through the thinning crowd toward her, face pale with horror.
But he was too far.
And Koda—
Koda stood exactly where he’d been.
Watching.
Black eyes glittering with dark amusement.
Smiling.
Like this was the best part of the night.
Fear twisted inside Harper—then ignited into something hotter.
Anger.
She pushed herself to her feet.
The beasts paused, heads tilting as though they sensed the change.
She took one step forward.
Then another.
Her voice came out low, steady, carrying in a way it never had before.
“Back. Off.”
The words weren’t shouted.
They didn’t need to be.
The beasts hesitated.
One snarled—testing.
Harper didn’t flinch.
She lifted her chin.
“Leave.”
Power hummed beneath her skin—unfamiliar, unsteady, but real.
The beasts growled once more—low, reluctant.
Then—slowly—they backed away.
One step.
Two.
Until they reached the broken skylight.
They leaped.
Gone.
Vanished into the night.
Harper exhaled—shaky, ragged.
Her knees almost buckled.
Koda stood motionless in the wreckage, head tilted, black eyes glittering under the flickering strobe lights that somehow still hadn’t been turned off.
He looked down at her.
Looked at the empty doorway Manson had fled through.
Then back at her.
“Look at you,” he said, voice thick with cruel amusement. “Pitiful. Your little darling just left you here to die.”
Harper’s breath hitched.
The words sliced deeper than any claw.
She tried to stand—legs shaking—but he was already moving.
Two strides and he reached her. Strong arms hooked under her knees and back. He lifted her as though she weighed nothing.
She gasped.
“Koda—”
He started walking toward the stairs.
Harper twisted violently. “Put me down!”
He ignored her.
Kai shoved forward through the last scattering bodies, face ashen. “Koda—where the hell are you taking her?”
Koda stopped at the foot of the staircase.
Slowly turned.
His eyes were pure midnight now—no brown, no white, only endless black.
“Not Koda,” he said, voice low and almost gentle. “You little boy.”
Kai recoiled a step.
Shadows peeled from the walls, curling toward Koda like living smoke.
“The One.”
“Yes, brother.”
Koda raised one hand—casual, almost bored.
Invisible force slammed into Kai like a freight train.
Kai’s body flew backward, crashed against the far wall with a sickening crunch of plaster and bone. He slid down and collapsed in a boneless heap.
“Kai!” Harper’s scream tore out raw.
She thrashed—nails raking bloody lines down Koda’s forearms, legs kicking uselessly.
“Let go of me!”
He only tightened his hold, pinning her arms without apparent effort.
She kept fighting, chest heaving, tears burning tracks through the dust on her cheeks.
He resumed climbing the stairs.