Chapter 26 Aftershocks
I didn’t sleep after that message.
I lay there with my phone clenched in my hand, the glow of the screen burning into my palm long after it went dark. Every creak of the house sounded too loud and every shadow felt intentional.
You felt it too, didn’t you?
My chest tightened. The pressure under my ribs returned, faint but insistent, like a pulse that didn’t belong to my heart.
I tried to breathe through it. In through my nose, and out through my mouth. The way Kai had shown me.
It helped. A little.
But something had shifted. I could feel it…not like fear, not exactly. More like awareness. As if a door had cracked open somewhere inside me and refused to close again.
By morning, I was running on nothing but nerves and stubbornness.
School felt wrong the second I stepped onto campus.
Not dangerous…yet…but off. Sounds were sharper, voices layered over each other in a way that made my head ache. The linoleum under my shoes hummed faintly, like it was remembering something.
I spotted Ethan near the lockers before he saw me.
He looked… tired. Dark circles clung under his eyes, and his shoulders were tense, like he’d been bracing for impact all night.
“Luna,” he said when he noticed me, relief flickering across his face. “I’ve been trying to catch you.”
My instincts stirred, uneasy.
“About last night?” I asked carefully.
His jaw tightened. “You remember more than you’re letting on.”
It wasn’t a question.
I hesitated. “I remember enough.”
Ethan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Then you need to know…it wasn’t just you. Whatever happened, whatever power surged… it didn’t come from nowhere.”
My pulse spiked. “You know what it was?”
“I know what it wasn’t,” he said. “It wasn’t an attack. It was a reaction.”
“To what?” I asked.
He glanced around, lowering his voice. “To something that’s been buried here for a long time.”
Before I could press him, the bell rang, slicing through the moment. Students surged past us, the normal chaos swallowing the tension whole.
“Talk to me later,” Ethan said quickly. “Please.”
I nodded, unsettled.
Kai found me in the third period.
I felt him before I saw him, a subtle shift in the air, and a grounding presence that made the noise in my head quiet just a fraction. He didn’t sit beside me. He never did. Instead, he leaned against the wall near the door, pretending to be invisible in a way only he could pull off.
Our eyes met.
His gaze sharpened instantly.
Something’s wrong.
I gave the smallest nod.
After class, he caught up with me in the hallway, falling into step at my side like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“You got a message,” he said under his breath.
I froze. “How did you…”
“I felt it,” he replied. “The shift. It brushed against you.”
That didn’t make me feel better.
“I didn’t reply,” I said. “I didn’t know if that would make it worse.”
“Smart,” he said. Then, more quietly, “But it doesn’t mean you’re invisible.”
We rounded the corner…and that’s when it happened.
The floor lurched.
Not cracked and not shattered.
It lurched.
Like the building itself had lost balance for half a second.
Students screamed as lockers rattled violently. Someone fell. My stomach dropped as the pressure inside me surged, sharp and sudden, knocking the breath from my lungs.
I staggered.
Kai was there instantly, one arm locking around my waist, the other bracing against the wall as the shake rippled through the hall.
“Luna,” he said firmly. “Look at me.”
I did.
“Support,” he ordered softly. “Right now.”
I focused on his voice, his eyes, and the solid heat of his body holding me upright. I forced my breathing to match his.
The pressure receded and the hallway stilled.
Teachers rushed out of classrooms. Students whispered frantically. Someone laughed nervously, calling it a mini quake.
But I knew better.
Kai knew better.
His grip didn’t loosen until he was sure I was steady. When he pulled back, his expression was dark, and controlled fury simmering just under the surface.
“That wasn’t you,” he said.
“I know,” I whispered. “But it’s reacting to me.”
“Yes,” he said. “Because you’re connected to it now.”
My chest twisted. “How do I disconnect?”
He hesitated.
“You don’t,” he said finally. “You survive it.”
I found Ethan after school, just like he asked.
We sat on the bleachers behind the gym, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the empty field. The quiet felt fragile.
“You felt it again,” he said.
“Yes.”
Ethan swallowed. “There’s something under Crescent Valley. Not metaphorically. Literally.”
My skin prickled.
“It’s old,” he continued. “Older than the packs. Older than the town. Most people don’t even know it exists. But some bloodlines…yours included…can wake it.”
I stared at him. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because someone else already knows,” he said. “And they’re pushing it.”
My mind raced. “Selene.”
Ethan didn’t deny it.
“She can’t control it,” he added quickly. “Not fully. But she thinks if she forces you to react, she can.”
“And you?” I asked quietly. “What are you doing in all this?”
His eyes flickered. “Trying to keep you alive.”
That night, the ground gave way.
Not metaphorically.
I was halfway through dinner when the pressure slammed into me, violent and unrestrained. The house groaned as something deep under the ground shifted.
I barely made it outside before the yard split open.
The ground tore apart with a sound like a scream, dirt and stone collapsing inward. I stumbled back, my heart hammering as a shockwave knocked me flat.
Pain flared through my side.
I tasted blood.
A shadow moved at the edge of the rupture, it was fast, and deliberate.
Too deliberate.
Kai arrived in a blur, skidding to a stop beside me, his eyes blazing as he hauled me upright.
“Stay with me,” he growled.
Something lunged from the darkness.
I reacted on instinct.
Power surged through me, raw and uncontrolled, slamming outward like a forcefield. The thing was thrown back into the collapsing ground with a guttural snarl.
Silence followed.
I sagged against Kai, shaking violently.
“That,” I gasped, “almost killed me.”
Kai’s arms tightened around me, fury and fear burning in his eyes.
“And now,” he said coldly, st
aring into the broken ground, “we know exactly how far they’re willing to go.”
Because this wasn’t a warning anymore.
It was an attempt.
And next time, it wouldn’t miss.