Chapter Five – New City, New Shadows
(Raven's POV, Age 16–17)
My sixteenth birthday came and went like a shadow—no celebration, no laughter, only the quiet ache of fading bruises and the silence of parents too far away to notice.
But by seventeen, everything changed.
We moved. Out of the city, away from the school where whispers and threats had followed me like ghosts. A new city. A new school. A chance to start over.
The streets here felt different—cleaner, sharper, alive with energy. Vendors shouted in languages I didn't understand, buses rattled past, and the air smelled faintly of spice and smoke. My parents spoke of opportunity, of better work.
I only thought of escape.
Maybe here, I could be someone else.
The new house was bigger, brighter, with wide windows that let in too much light. My mother fussed over curtains, my father over furniture.
"Do you like it?" she asked, smoothing the couch.
I shrugged. "It's fine."
Her smile faltered. "It's more than fine. It's safe."
Safe. The word hung heavy.
At night, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The silence was different—less oppressive, but still hollow.
I wondered if the wolves could find me here.
The first day at the new school, I felt the stares again. But these were different—curious, not cruel.
"Where are you from?" a girl asked, her voice light.
"Bloemfontein," I said.
She nodded. "I'm Lila. This is Maren."
Maren grinned. "You'll get used to this place. It's loud, but not mean."
They laughed easily, their voices sharp but not hostile. Boys glanced at me, but not like prey. Teachers smiled, though their eyes lingered too long.
For the first time, I felt almost normal.
For three weeks, life unfolded in a rhythm I had never known.
At lunch, Lila plopped down beside me under the jacaranda trees. "You don't talk much, do you?"
"Maybe I'm listening," I said.
Maren leaned in. "Listening's fine, but you'll miss the gossip."
They laughed, and for the first time, I laughed too. Purple blossoms drifted down around us, soft as snow.
At home, my father told a story about a stubborn client, his voice animated in a way I hadn't heard in years.
My mother rolled her eyes, smiling. "See, Raven, your father can be funny when he tries."
I raised an eyebrow. "That's debatable."
The laughter around the table didn't feel forced.
The weekend market was chaos—spices burning in the air, vendors shouting, music thumping from hidden speakers.
Lila tugged me toward a stall selling bracelets. "Try this one," she said, slipping a silver band onto my wrist.
"It's too shiny," I muttered.
Maren grinned. "That's the point. You need a little shine."
I caught my reflection in the polished metal. For a moment, I didn't look like prey.
At night, I climbed onto the roof, the city lights stretching out like stars.
My mother found me there. "You'll catch cold," she warned softly.
"I like the view," I said.
She sat beside me, silent for a long time. Then: "I hope this place feels like home."
I didn't answer. But I stayed until the lights blurred into dawn.
We crowded into a corner café, the smell of coffee sharp and sweet.
Lila stirred her drink, eyes sparkling. "So, Raven," she teased, "anyone caught your eye yet?"
I shook my head. "Not really."
Maren nudged me. "You'll see. This city has its secrets."
Their laughter echoed, but the words lingered.
At home, my father insisted on an old action film, my mother on a romantic comedy. They argued until I chose something in between.
"You're the peacemaker," my mother said, squeezing my hand.
I smiled faintly. "Or just tired of listening to you fight."
We watched together, the glow of the screen softening the edges of our silence.
For three weeks, I almost believed I could belong.
But whispers carried through the halls.
Everyone spoke of him—Darius. Eighteen years old, already running businesses that made teachers treat him like more than a student. Next in line to inherit something bigger, something people spoke of in hushed tones.
Alpha.