[Logan's POV]
Beacon Hills — First Day of School
The motorcycle roared beneath me, slicing through the morning haze as I passed the "Welcome to Beacon Hills" sign. The wind bit at my face, but I barely noticed. The leather jacket clung to me like a second skin—faded, torn at the sleeves, but stubbornly whole. Like me.
I wasn't supposed to be here.
But then again, destiny had a habit of throwing curveballs, and mine came with claws.
I slowed down near the high school, the building already buzzing with students. I saw the crowd, the energy, the noise—and I hated it. Not because I didn't belong, but because I did. Too much.
The system embedded in my blood hummed quietly. My hearing was already catching conversations a block away. My senses mapped everything: fifteen cars in the lot, two students sneaking a smoke behind the gym, and a heartbeat that spiked near the entrance—anxious, uncertain.
Her.
Allison Argent.
[Allison's POV]
"First day at a new school. No big deal," I whispered to myself, adjusting the strap of my bag.
The front gates of Beacon Hills High stood tall, impersonal, and cold. Dad's SUV had already pulled away, and I was left staring at the world I'd be living in for the next few years.
And then I saw him.
Motorcycle. Dark hair. Those piercing, unreadable eyes that looked like they'd seen things no teenager ever should. He parked right by the entrance like he didn't care about rules. The way he took off his helmet—casual but sharp—like he owned the world.
God. He was hot.
I caught myself staring. He looked my way. Our eyes met. Just a second. But something inside me stirred—dangerous and electric.
[Logan's POV]
Target identified: Allison Argent. Daughter of Chris Argent. Moved from San Francisco. Recently introduced to the supernatural world.
I didn't need my enhanced memory to recall her file. But the moment I saw her in person, something shifted. This wasn't data. This wasn't mission detail.
This was… real.
I walked past her with a nod. She blinked, smiled—uncertain. I didn't stop. I didn't say a word. Just enough for a first impression. Just enough to make sure she remembered me.
[Inside the School – Later That Day]
The classes were the usual mix of awkward introductions and whispered gossip. I ignored most of it. My senses focused on one thing: proximity to supernatural events. Something dark was moving through this school, and I needed to stay ahead of it.
Still, I wasn't expecting him.
Scott McCall. Beta werewolf. Newly bitten. Sitting two rows ahead in Chemistry, fiddling with his pen like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
His scent was… unstable. New power. Raw fear. I could smell it a mile away.
[Scott's POV]
Something was wrong.
I couldn't focus. My skin felt tight. My heartbeat was racing—and then I smelled metal.
Blood?
No. Closer. More primal.
I turned—and saw him.
That guy from this morning. The one Allison was staring at outside. Black shirt, silver chain, a cold calm in his eyes that felt like ice.
He wasn't human.
But he wasn't a werewolf either.
I didn't know what he was. But I knew one thing.
He was watching me.
[Lunchtime – Outside Tables]
"Allison, over here!" Lydia called, waving.
I was about to sit with her and Jackson when he walked past again, holding a tray with nothing but black coffee.
"Allison," he said, his voice low, deep, warm.
I froze. "Uh… yeah?"
He motioned to the empty seat across from me. "This seat taken?"
I glanced at Lydia, who raised an eyebrow like she already knew this was trouble. But I nodded anyway. "No. Go ahead."
He sat. And for a moment, the world felt… still.
"I'm Logan."
"Allison."
"I know," he said, without smiling. "First days suck."
"They do," I replied, grinning. "But maybe this one's getting better."
[Logan's POV]
Her laugh was soft. Genuine. For a hunter's daughter, she was disarmingly kind. That made her dangerous in a different way.
My claws twitched under the surface. Not from aggression.
From instinct.
I'd died in another world—a lab experiment turned weapon. Reborn into this one with a second chance. And here I was… having lunch with a girl whose family used to hunt people like me.
How poetic.
[Later – Locker Room]
Scott's scent changed again. Panic.
I followed.
He was in the locker room, clutching a wall, trying to breathe.
"McCall," I said, leaning against a locker.
He spun around, startled. "W-What do you want?"
"You need to get out of here before you hurt someone," I said calmly.
His eyes widened. "How do you—?"
I stepped closer. "You reek of fear, power, and confusion. Whatever bit you, it didn't finish the job. You're changing."
"I don't know what's happening to me—"
"You're becoming a monster," I said bluntly. "Or a predator. Depends on how you handle it."
"Who are you?" he asked.
I looked him in the eye. "Someone who's been through worse. And lived."
Then I walked away.
[Nightfall – Beacon Hills Preserve]
The moon was full, heavy in the sky. I could feel it in my bones.
My claws unsheathed with a familiar metallic snikt.
Tonight was the start of the hunt.
Something dark was coming. A creature, twisted and ancient, hiding in the woods.
And if it got near her—Allison—I would end it.
Not because I had to.
Because I wanted to.
[Allison's POV – That Night]
I couldn't sleep.
Something about Beacon Hills didn't feel normal.
And maybe it was crazy… but I couldn't stop thinking about him.
Logan.
Why did it feel like he was hiding something darker than even this town's shadows?
[TO BE CONTINUED]