Patterns

Calista had no interest in getting close to him. That wasn’t how this was supposed to go. She was meant to observe from a distance, gather information, learn who he was before making any kind of move.

Yet here she was, seated at the far corner of the library, pretending to be engrossed in a book when in reality, she could feel his presence. Max was two shelves away, his back to her, pulling a book from the shelf. She found herself reading the same sentence for the third time. Then, as if fate had a cruel sense of humor—

A shadow loomed over her table. “Mind if I sit here?”

Calista looked up, masking her emotions instantly. Max’s red eyes met hers, guarded, calculating. He was watching her. Studying her. But more importantly—

He was giving her the choice. It would be suspicious if she refused. It would be too eager if she welcomed him. So instead, she tilted her head slightly and offered a neutral smile.

“It’s a public table,” she said simply, turning back to her book.

He pulled out the chair across from her, sitting down without another word. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The library was quiet, the faint scratching of pens and the occasional whisper filling the space between them. Calista focused on the words in front of her, but she felt his gaze drift to her every so often. Like he was waiting for something. Or trying to figure something out. Finally, after what felt like an eternity—

“You like history?”

Calista blinked, momentarily thrown off. Of all the things he could have said he chose that? She let her eyes drop to the open page in front of her. It was an old copy of The Rise and Fall of Empires. Something she had grabbed at random, but in hindsight a fitting choice.

She nodded. “Yes.”

Max leaned back slightly, crossing his arms. “What’s your favorite period?”

Calista considered her answer carefully. She couldn’t say the truth. That she had lived among rulers, studied the rise and fall of kingdoms firsthand. That she understood power and its fragility better than most.

Instead, she said, “I think people define history too much by time periods instead of patterns. It’s not about when things happen it’s about why they keep happening.”

Max’s expression didn’t change. But his thumb stopped moving against the spine of his book. He was quiet for a moment. His eyes dropped to the table, then came back up to her face.

“… Huh,” he said after a beat.

Not dismissive. Not sarcastic. Just thoughtful. She looked at him carefully. “And you? Do you like history?”

Max let out a short breath, tilting his head slightly. “Depends.”

She raised a brow. “On?”

“If it’s worth remembering.”

Calista stilled. Not because the answer surprised her. But because it wasn’t a typical response. It wasn’t lazy indifference. It was purposeful. Like he saw history as something personal. Like he had his own ghosts of the past. Their gazes held for a moment longer than necessary.

Then Max tapped a finger against the cover of her book. “Patterns, huh?”

Calista nodded slowly. Max’s lips quirked just slightly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And with that, he stood up, walking away without another word. Leaving Calista with a racing heart and the realization that she had just lost the first round. Not because she had slipped. But because she was starting to fall harder than she expected.

After school ended Max and his friends followed Brianna They had spent the entire day observing her watching her at lunch, who she spoke to which was almost no one, and now it’s time to find out where she went after school.

Max had expected something obvious—some kind of mistake, a clue to whatever she was hiding. Instead? She walked into a botanical garden.

Jason muttered under his breath, “Seriously? We’re stalking a girl through a flower park?”

Keira shot him a glare. “We’re observing her. There’s a difference.”

Jason snorted. “Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Max ignored them both. He didn’t know what he had expected her to do after school. Maybe meet up with someone. Maybe sneak away to some hidden location. But instead, she walked calmly through the gardens completely at ease. And, as always, she stood out without even trying. Then again, there was the matter of the animal beside her white and gold-furred, unhurried, like it belonged there. For someone who had spent the past few days avoiding attention, Brianna didn’t seem remotely concerned about being watched now.

Keira crossed her arms. “She’s not acting like someone with something to hide.”

“Or she’s just that good at hiding it,” Josh countered.

Max remained silent, following her movements carefully. Then, something unexpected happened. A young girl, no older than seven, darted ahead of her mother and ran right up to Brianna.

The girl’s bright, excited voice broke through the quiet atmosphere. “Look, Mommy! The fairy flowers!”

Max halted mid-step. His wolf tensed. Jason frowned. “The hell is a fairy flower?”

Brianna turned gracefully, kneeling slightly so she was eye-level with the child. Max’s breath caught.

She smiled. And this wasn’t the guarded, unreadable mask she always wore. This was genuine. Warm. The kind of smile you couldn’t fake. She glanced at the flowers the little girl had pointed to a soft blue blossom gently swaying in the breeze.

Her voice was gentle but clear. “These only bloom at night,” she told the child. “They absorb the moonlight and glow when the sky is darkest.”

The little girl’s eyes widened. “Like magic?”

Brianna tilted her head slightly, a thoughtful look crossing her features. She reached out, brushing her fingertips against one of the petals, almost reverently.

“Exactly,” she murmured.

Max could barely hear her words, but his wolf picked up something else. The subtle change in her presence. For the briefest moment, it felt different. Not in a way he could describe not something he could see or smell. Just… something. Something old. Something not quite human.

The little girl beamed. “I knew fairies were real!”

The mother laughed softly. “You certainly know a lot about flowers,” she said to Brianna.

Brianna stood smoothly, gracefully. “They remind me of home.”

Max’s jaw tightened. That didn’t sound like someone casually talking about a childhood memory. That sounded like someone who didn’t belong here.

Jason muttered under his breath. “What is she, some kind of flower whisperer?”

Max didn’t respond. Because he was wondering the exact same thing.

Brianna said bye to the child and her mother before walking toward the exit. Max signaled to his group, and they followed. Not too close. Not too obvious. At one point, a pair of children broke away from their parents and made straight for the animal, which immediately forgot all dignity and shoved its nose into the nearest outstretched hand.

Brianna let the pair of toddlers cut directly across her path when they were done with her pet without breaking stride. At one point she stopped, tilting her face upward toward a trellis of climbing vines, and stood there for a moment, unhurried. Max found himself scanning the garden the way she should have been exits, benches, the groundskeeper raking near the fountain. They followed her down the pathway, past the rose garden, toward the exit.

Josh, keeping his eyes locked on her, muttered, “She doesn’t even seem remotely suspicious.”

Tyler sighed dramatically. “Maybe she’s just a weird flower-loving introvert?”

Max didn’t believe that for a second. Brianna exited the garden and turned onto a side street. Max and his friends picked up the pace. She was just ahead still walking at an even, unhurried pace. Max’s instincts told him this was it. This was the moment she was going to slip up. He could feel it. Then suddenly his wolf shifted restlessly.

A slow, uneasy sensation crawled up Max’s spine as they trailed behind Brianna, watching her turn the corner. Something wasn’t right. His instincts, normally sharp and reliable, were suddenly off-kilter. The air felt different. Thicker. Heavier. And then—

His pulse spiked. MOVE. He didn’t know why, but every instinct in his body screamed at him to hurry. He lunged forward, rounding the corner—

And she was gone. Max stopped cold. His eyes scanned the street. The sidewalk was empty. There was no alleyway. No open doors. No car she could’ve gotten into.

Jason cursed. “What the actual hell?” Jason scanned the area. “This isn’t possible.”

Josh turned in a slow circle. “She was right here.”

Keira exhaled sharply. “Okay, that’s not normal.”

Max clenched his fists. This wasn’t possible. No normal person could have just disappeared. There was no logical explanation. And that meant only one thing. She wasn’t normal. Emma hesitated, her expression caught somewhere between uncertain and unsettled. “Hang on.” She glanced at Max. “You said she had no scent.”

“She doesn’t,” Max said.

Emma shook her head slowly. “I’m getting something.”

Tyler’s chin lifted. “So am I.” A beat passed. Around him, the others went still in that particular way heads slightly raised, attention sharpening inward.

“She’s right,” Keira said quietly.

Josh nodded. “Yeah.”

Jason’s eyes settled on Max. “Why aren’t you?”

Nobody spoke for a moment. Then Josh said, “You think she did something to block it? Specifically for you?”

Max stood in silence, his wolf stirring restlessly. This wasn’t paranoia. This wasn’t just some random girl. She was hiding something. Something that no one not even his father, not even the Council was prepared for. And if she was dangerous? Then Max was going to be the first to find out.

Max was about to turn away then he saw it. On the ground, near the edge of the sidewalk, was a single white feather. Not a normal feather. Patterns like stars branched across the inner vanes. It was glowing faintly. A soft, pulsing light, fading in and out like a slow heartbeat.

Keira saw it too. “That’s… not normal.”

Jason’s brows furrowed. “That’s probably from a flower she touched.”

Max knelt down, brushing his fingers over the feather. It was cool. Almost humming with unfamiliar energy. His red eyes darkened. “No,” he murmured. “It’s not.”