"If you touch that, I'll kill you."
Adam froze, fingers still hovering just inches from the sleek, purple-wrapped chocolate bar on the low coffee table. The voice had come from behind him, low and lazy but laced with unmistakable warning. It wasn't loud, but it sliced through the air like a blade.
He turned slowly, hoodie swaying slightly with the motion, and found himself looking at a girl standing near the open doorway. Athletic build, bronzed skin glowing under the soft afternoon light filtering through tall windows. Her eyes were sharp, narrowed, and for a flicker of a second, just a heartbeat there was something not quite human about the golden glint in her irises.
She swept a hand through her hair, tucking a messy curl behind her ear, exposing a trio of thin golden piercings that climbed the edge of her ear like fangs. She had on a cropped sports tee and black running shorts, the kind with side slits and an aggressive logo, and a gym bag slung over one shoulder.
"You heard me," she said again. Less threatening this time, more smirk than snarl.
Adam straightened awkwardly, hoodie bunching at his wrists. "Uh… my bad. Didn't know it was claimed."
The girl snorted, striding past him without breaking eye contact. "Everything's claimed here, new guy. Especially snacks."
She plopped down into a deep purple bean bag and cracked open a bottle of water. Just as Adam was about to step back and pretend like he was never interested in chocolate at all, the glass door to the left slid open.
"Amber, are you threatening the help again?"
Another girl stepped into the room, dressed like she walked straight off a fashion influencer's page. A burgundy halter top hugged her waist, paired with high-rise jeans, shiny black boots clicking confidently against the hardwood. Her lipstick matched her top, and she had long black nails and a perfectly contoured glare.
Amber groaned. "He tried to touch my chocolate. That's a sin, Anissa."
"What's a sin is that outfit," Anissa fired back, brushing a manicured hand through her silken waves. "Soccer practice or cult meeting?"
Amber sat up in the bean bag. "Says the walking perfume aisle. Where you off to? Sniffing out rich mall daddies again?"
Adam blinked, mouth slightly open as the two girls bickered with what seemed like half-serious venom. It wasn't hostile. More like a sparring match they'd repeated a hundred times. Despite their clashing styles, they moved with the same grace, same posture, and their faces...
They were similar. identical at first glance, but the more he looked, the more the pieces clicked into place. Same sharp cheekbones. Same eerie, symmetrical beauty. Twins.
He felt suddenly underdressed and underprepared in his white tee and oversized hoodie. He muttered to himself, "If I knew they were girls, I'd have tried harder."
"Tried what?" came a voice so soft he almost missed it.
His head turned toward the corner of the room.
There, curled on a large window couch, book in hand, was the third one.
The quiet one. so then... triplets?
She wore an oversized black cardigan that slid off one shoulder, revealing pale skin and a thin silver necklace with a rune pendant. Her legs were folded beneath her, bare except for a pair of soft gray mini shorts and fuzzy socks. A hardcover novel rested in her lap, one finger tucked inside to keep her place.
Her golden eyes met his with calm curiosity, but it wasn't her stare that got to him—it was the way she tilted her head slightly, like she was studying a new species.
She closed her book gently and stood.
Adam's breath caught.
There was something strange about the way she moved. Fluid. Measured. Predatory.
She crossed the room without a word, stopping just inches from him. Her face was unreadable, but her presence was undeniable. The other two had backed off slightly, letting her take center stage like it was always meant to be hers.
Adam opened his mouth to say something, but she leaned in slowly, and sniffed him.
Not like a joke. Not like a flirt. Like she was trying to know something.
He flinched, every muscle on edge.
She pulled back.
"You smell like you've seen things," she said simply.
The room went still.
Adam blinked, 'what's that supposed mean?' he wondered. His heart pounded. It reminded him of his mother. Of the way she would look at strangers and know something no one else could. That slight tilt of her head. That inner fire.
It clicked.
Werewolves.
They were all werewolves.
But he didn't say it. Just nodded slowly and said, "...I'm Adam."
The quiet girl smiled faintly. "Abigail."
Amber gave him a side-eye. "Don't look at me like that. I'm the fun one."
"Anissa," the third said, rolling her eyes. "And don't let the hoodie fool you. You smell like someone who knows what he is."
Adam blinked. "What?"
"Nothing," Anissa sang, spinning on her heel and strutting to the snack bar. "Just girl talk."
They were circling him. Not literally, but it felt like it. Like a rabbit in a den of lions that had all the time in the world.
They played it cool, casual, but everything about their posture screamed control. Precision. Connection. They moved like a unit. Spoke in rhythms only they could follow.
And deep down, Adam knew this wasn't a coincidence.
They'd been expecting him.
Amber tossed him a bottle of soda. "Welcome to the family freak show, hoodie boy. Try not to steal snacks next time."
Abigail walked past him on the way out, but paused at the door. Her gaze lingered for a moment too long.
"You'll fit right in," she said.
And then she was gone.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth Thorne remained seated, legs elegantly crossed, her fingers steepled beneath her chin. Her expression shifted, no longer warm or playful, but sharp, calculating. Her eyes never left Austin, who stood near the window, his arms crossed, posture defensive despite the serene view outside.
"You seem tense, Mr. Reeves," she said softly.
Austin scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, I'm still trying to figure out why my son was brought here like he's some kind of chess piece. You don't exactly scream 'straight answers,' Ms. Thorne."
Elizabeth offered a polite smile, cool and disarming. "That's fair. But what I do offer is opportunity. For you. For your son. Especially now, after… everything."
Her words lingered. Austin's brow furrowed slightly. He hated how much she knew. How much she wasn't saying. How deep into their lives she had already reached without asking.
She reached into a slim leather folder beside her, pulling out two neatly stacked forms. With precise grace, she slid them across the polished desk toward him.
The first was stamped with the Moonstone Academy crest; ornate, aged, and intimidating.
"This is Adam's enrollment form. Should you sign it, he'll begin classes tomorrow morning. Wednesday. His academic records have already been… expedited. He'll be placed in an introductory general studies course with some of our more 'specialized' staff keeping an eye on him."
Austin didn't move.
"And the other?"
Her lips curled, just slightly. "A job application. For you. Farren Industries' private medical division. It's a civilian position, field trauma, paramedical support. Clean pay. Clean cover. And clean benefits."
He picked up the second form slowly, eyes scanning the sleek, corporate design. His jaw tightened at the name: Farren Industries. He'd heard of them—who hadn't? Pharmaceuticals, tech, defense contracts. Always smiling, always growing. But something about it sent a chill down his spine.
"You're offering me a job... just like that?"
"No," she said, sipping her tea. "I'm offering you purpose. And proximity to your son. Both of which you're running dangerously low on."
Austin stared at her. "Why? Why go through all this trouble?"
Elizabeth's gaze darkened for a breath. Then, she rose from her chair, slowly approaching him until there was barely a foot between them.
"Because your son isn't ordinary, Mr. Reeves. And the world he's about to step into won't treat him like he is. If you're not nearby, if you're not in the world then you're just one more civilian liability. But if you're in the system… you get to shape it."
Austin looked down at the forms, still not touching them.
"I won't let him be used."
Elizabeth's voice was quieter now. Still, it cut through the air like a blade.
"Neither will I."
She turned away then, as if the conversation had reached its natural end, moving to the antique globe in the corner and spinning it absentmindedly.
Austin lingered for a long moment before finally picking up both papers.
"I'll think about it."
Elizabeth's back was to him, but her answer came smoothly.
"You already have."
***
Rain threatened from above. The sky was heavy, like it was mourning.
Cassius Vane stood at the edge of the grave, unmoving as the soil struck the coffin below with hollow thuds. His gloved hands were clasped behind his back, his expression carved in quiet grief, but something deeper flickered in his gaze, rage, raw and unresolved.
The wind stirred his black coat, and as he looked down at the headstone bearing Emily's name, something in him cracked.
"Emily..." he whispered, almost inaudibly. "You were just eight."
The girl's name felt too small to hold the weight of who she was to him.
His niece.
Not many in Moonstone knew that part, he had kept it hidden for a reason. His brother, Marcus Vane, had tried to live a life far away from the blood-soaked legacy they were born into. He'd married a schoolteacher, settled down on the quiet edge of town, tried to raise Emily as far away from the world of werewolves and hunters as he could.
Cassius had warned him that peace never lasts when monsters still breathe. That hiding never works forever. Marcus didn't listen.
Now they were all in the ground.
He swallowed hard. The stony mask on his face didn't crack, but his jaw clenched.
An assistant approached cautiously, John, the more experienced one. Tall, clean-shaven, dressed in a sharp gray suit. "Sir... I'm sorry for your loss."
Cassius didn't answer at first. Just stared at the grave, lips pressed into a line.
"I told him," he said finally. "I told Marcus they'd never stop coming. He believed if he didn't raise a sword, no one would raise one against him." A bitter chuckle. "And look how that ended."
The other assistant, a younger man in a slightly crooked tie, hovered nearby, his hands fidgeting as he tried to avoid Cassius's gaze.
"She was eight," Cassius repeated, quieter this time. "Eight, and she already wanted to be a vet. Always asking about the strays in the yard. Always making her dad promise she could keep the next dog. She didn't deserve this."
Silence.
Then the younger assistant broke in, nervously: "We, uh… we didn't find anything, sir. No silver, no DNA, nothing that could be—"
Cassius turned to look at him, the fury behind his eyes quiet but lethal.
"Then you didn't look hard enough."
The kid shrank under his gaze. "I—I'm sorry. I just meant—"
"You're not here to 'mean,'" Cassius said. "You're here to know."
He turned back to the grave, a single tear rolling down his cheek, though he didn't seem aware of it.
"I thought I was done with this war. I thought I'd buried that part of me with the rest of the Vane legacy. But now… now I'll bury every last one of them."
His voice was calm. Measured. But it cut like a scalpel.
The wind picked up. Leaves fluttered across the path as the clouds thickened overhead.
"Driver," he said, not looking back. "Take us to the scene. I'll find the trail myself."
He pulled on his black gloves tighter, his entire frame taut with the kind of poised rage that demanded blood.
This wasn't just about vengeance.
This was personal.
This was family.