Chapter 3

Ellie's POV

The referee's whistle cut through the air, calling teams to their positions. As Aiden jogged back to his team, Coach Bennett gathered the Eagles for final instructions.

The game started with the usual intensity, but something was different. Lucas played with a reckless aggression I'd never seen before. Each time he faced off against Aiden, the tension ratcheted higher.

By the second quarter, Lucas had already earned one technical foul for an unnecessarily rough block.

"What's gotten into him?" Emma asked during a timeout. "He's playing like he wants to murder someone."

I watched Lucas in the huddle, his shoulders tense, eyes occasionally darting toward me. "I think he's jealous."

"Of Aiden talking to you? But he's the one who's been blowing you off for Samantha!"

Thalia stirred restlessly inside me. Possessive, not protective, she observed. He doesn't want you, but doesn't want anyone else to have you either.

The third quarter turned ugly. The crowd was on its feet, the arena thundering with stomping and cheering. Every possession was contested like it was the final play of the championship. Lucas and Aiden battled for a rebound, and what should have been normal contact escalated when Lucas drove his elbow into Aiden's ribs with deliberate force.

Aiden hit the court hard. The referee's whistle shrieked.

"Flagrant foul! Number 14, Mapleton!"

The crowd erupted—half booing, half cheering—as parents stood up shouting at the referees. Someone behind me yelled, "That's how you play defense, Miller!" while Westridge fans were demanding ejection.

Coach Bennett was livid, getting right in Lucas's face as he was escorted to the bench. But something in Lucas's posture made my blood run cold. His shoulders were hunched forward, his breathing ragged. When he briefly looked up at the scoreboard, I caught a flash of yellow in his eyes.

It's happening. The moon's rising.

I glanced at the high windows of the arena. Twilight was fading to darkness outside. The full moon would be visible any minute now, and Lucas was already losing control.

I could see his hands clenching and unclenching, veins prominent on his forearms. A thin sheen of sweat covered his face despite the air conditioning. His canines were visibly elongating when he snarled at something Coach Bennett said.

This was bad. Really bad.

I made a split-second decision and grabbed my phone, punching in a number while moving toward the bench area.

"What are you doing?" Emma called after me.

"Emergency!" I called back, not stopping.

I rushed toward the Eagles' bench, phone pressed to my ear, my face a mask of panic. Coach Bennett looked up as I approached.

"Coach!" I gasped, holding up my phone. "I need Lucas—it's his mom. She's been rushed to the hospital!"

Lucas's head snapped up, confusion momentarily replacing the feral look in his eyes.

Coach Bennett frowned. "We're in the middle of a game, Greene."

"It's an emergency," I insisted, grabbing Lucas's arm. I could feel the tremors running through his muscles, the heat radiating off his skin. "She specifically asked for Lucas. Please."

The coach looked between us, then at Lucas's clearly distressed state. "Fine. Johnson, you're in for Miller."

I pulled Lucas off the bench and toward the exit tunnel, aware of hundreds of eyes following us. Samantha suddenly appeared, blocking our path with a concerned expression that didn't reach her eyes.

"Lucas, what's happening? Are you okay?" she reached for him, trying to wedge herself between us.

"Not now," I muttered, gently but firmly moving her aside with my forearm. I couldn't afford pleasantries—not with Lucas seconds away from sprouting fur.

Samantha dramatically tumbled to the ground, as if I'd shoved her with supernatural strength instead of the light nudge I'd actually given.

"Lucas!" she cried out, sprawled on the floor in a perfect tableau of victimhood. "She pushed me!"

Lucas's head turned, his yellow eyes momentarily confused, but I tightened my grip and kept moving.

"Your mom needs you," I reminded him urgently, pulling him through the exit as Samantha scrambled to her feet behind us.

"Lucas, wait!" she called after us, but we were already disappearing down the tunnel, her voice fading as the heavy doors swung shut.

"My mom?" Lucas growled once we were in the tunnel, his voice deeper than normal.

"Not really," I whispered urgently. "But you were about to grow fur in front of the entire school."

He stumbled, gripping the wall. Under the harsh fluorescent lights of the tunnel, I could see the veins in his neck darkening, a sure sign of imminent transformation.

"Dammit," he hissed, doubling over. "The moon—"

"I know. That's why I brought you the moon tea, which you refused," I snapped, pulling him toward the emergency exit. "We need to get you to the woods. Now."

We burst through the exit door into the cool night air. The full moon hung low and heavy in the sky, bathing everything in silver light. Lucas groaned, falling to his knees.

"Can't... make it... to the woods," he gasped, his fingers elongating, nails sharpening to claws.

"Yes, you can," I insisted, hauling him up. "My car's right there. Just hold on for two more minutes."

With superhuman effort, he straightened up, his eyes now completely yellow, teeth gritted in determination. We staggered toward my car like drunk college students, Lucas fighting the transformation with every step.

I shoved him into the passenger seat and raced around to the driver's side. As I gunned the engine, my phone buzzed with a text message. I glanced at it briefly as we peeled out of the parking lot.

From Aiden: Everything okay with Lucas's mom? Let me know if you need anything.

I tossed the phone aside, focusing on the road as Lucas convulsed beside me, his transformation no longer containable.

"Hold on," I urged, speeding toward the forest preserve at the edge of campus. "Just hold on."

Thalia stirred within me, feeling the pull of the moon herself, but years of rigorous training had given me control that Lucas never bothered to master. Female werewolves aren't inherently better at resisting the change, but I'd spent countless nights practicing while Lucas relied on moon tea and natural talent. I could suppress my wolf until I found a safe place to let her run—a skill that had saved our kind countless times throughout history.

As we raced toward the safety of the forest, away from human eyes, I pressed the gas pedal to the floor. We barely made it to the tree line before Lucas's transformation became unstoppable. I helped him stumble fifty yards into the dense woods, far enough that no hikers or campus security would accidentally discover us.

"Here," I gasped, letting him collapse onto the pine-needle covered ground.