Chapter 157
Ellie's POV
The studio mirror reflected my flushed face and sweat-soaked hair as I finally let the music fade. I'd been dancing for nearly two hours—far longer than I'd planned when I slipped into Pioneer Arena's empty practice room after cheerleading wrapped up.
But I'd needed it. The movement. The release.
Too much pressure lately. Jackson's brutal training schedule with Miles. The constant vigilance knowing Caleb was somewhere on campus, watching. The elaborate charade of pretending my relationship was falling apart while actually growing stronger behind closed doors. The lies to my friends, the weight of secrets, the suffocating awareness that one wrong move could expose everything.
So I'd danced. Alone. No choreography, no audience, no performance pressure. Just me and Thalia and the freedom of letting my body move without thinking, without planning, without controlling every single aspect of my existence.
Now, standing under the scalding spray in the empty locker room, I finally felt some of that tension drain away. The hot water worked at the knots in my shoulders, steam filling my lungs with each breath.
My phone buzzed against the tile bench. Once. Twice. Three times in rapid succession.
I shut off the water, already frowning. Normal people didn't send triple texts at nine PM on a Tuesday. Wrapping myself in a towel, I grabbed my phone with pruned fingers.
Lucas Miller: Ellie, I know we're not speaking. I know I have no right to contact you. But it's three days until full moon and I'm not stable.
My stomach dropped.
Lucas Miller: Josh said Samantha might be at the apartment I'm renting for her... with another guy. I need to confirm, but I'm scared I'll lose control of Conall.
Lucas Miller: If you see this... the address is Maple Street 447, Apt 3B. I'm not asking you to help me. I'm asking you to be nearby in case I shift. I'm sorry.
Is this real? My first instinct was suspicion. Lucas had spent months choosing Samantha over me, had trampled our friendship, destroyed my family heirloom. Why would he reach out now? Was this some kind of manipulation, another way to pull me back into his drama?
But if Lucas really lost control in front of Samantha, in front of witnesses...
I closed my eyes and saw my reflection in the fogged mirror—amber irises steady and clear, no gold bleeding through. I was fine. Centered. But I knew Lucas had never properly learned to control his wolf side. He took the easy way out—finding some isolated spot where no one would see him and just... letting Conall run wild. No restraint. No integration. Just surrender to the transformation and hope nobody stumbled across a massive wolf in the woods.
It had always worried me, even back when we were close. That kind of avoidance wasn't control. It was a disaster waiting to happen.
If he actually shifted, if he hurt someone, it wouldn't just destroy him. It would expose every werewolf at CVU. Every werewolf in the region. The kind of exposure that got packs hunted, families torn apart, lives destroyed.
My fingers moved before I'd fully decided.
Me: 20 minutes. Wait outside for me. Don't go in early.
No warmth. No forgiveness. Just the bare minimum acknowledgment that I understood what was at stake. This wasn't about Lucas and me. This was about protecting the secret that kept all of us safe.
Then I called Jackson.
He answered on the first ring, his voice rough and breathless. "Ellie? What's wrong?"
"Lucas just texted." I yanked my practice clothes back on, phone wedged between shoulder and ear. "He thinks Samantha's cheating. Says he needs me at her apartment to make sure he doesn't shift."
A sharp inhale. Then: "Three days out. Jealousy and betrayal are the worst possible triggers."
"I know." I grabbed my bag, checking my wallet for the small plastic case of emergency moon-tea capsules. Two left. "But if I don't go and he loses it—"
"Then we're all exposed." Jackson's background noise shifted—the scrape of weights being racked, a door closing. "Where are you?"
"Pioneer Arena. Women's locker room."
"I'm coming with you." His tone left no room for argument. "You don't face a potentially feral werewolf alone, Ellie. I don't care what history you have with Lucas."
Part of me wanted to protest. This was my mess, my former best friend, my responsibility. But the memory of Lucas's eyes flashing gold during that basketball game stopped me. He'd been half-transformed in front of hundreds of people, and only my intervention had prevented complete disaster.
This time, with actual betrayal instead of imagined slights? He'd be ten times more volatile.
"Pioneer Arena north entrance parking lot," I said. "Hurry."
"Eight minutes. Ellie—" He paused. "If something feels wrong before I get there, don't wait for me. Just leave."
"I will."
"I mean it. Don't throw yourself away trying to save someone who might not want to be saved."
The words hit harder than I expected. Because he was right—Lucas had made his choices. Had chosen Samantha, chosen to cut me out, chosen to ignore every warning about the risks he was taking.
But I also knew that if he lost control and exposed himself, he'd be hunted. Killed, probably. And despite everything, I couldn't let that happen to someone I'd known since childhood.
"I'll be careful," I promised, and ended the call.
I bolted from the locker room, nearly colliding with two cheerleaders from the junior squad.
"Ellie! We were looking for you—Coach wants to review the pyramid formation—"
"Family emergency," I lied, not slowing. "Tell Coach I'll email her tonight."
The cold February air hit my still-damp hair as I burst through the north entrance. Jackson's black SUV was already pulling into the lot, headlights cutting through the darkness. He'd made it in six minutes, not eight.
I threw myself into the passenger seat.
"Here." He handed me a bottle of water before I could even buckle in. "You need to stay calm. Hydrated. Clear-headed."
I took the water gratefully, noticing his own tension in the set of his jaw, the white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel.
"Lucas is probably already heading there," I said as Jackson pulled onto the main road. "If he walks in and actually sees—"