Rhine

At twelve, you didn’t yet know that hope could be a death sentence. Your family always gave birth to someone: witches with the eyes of the future, hunters with silver blood, lords of fire and darkness. You were next. You had to. On the day of the selection, someone cried from the heat of power, someone could not hide their wolf pupils. Sparks, trembling - others had all this. Except you. You stood with a straight back and empty hands. Waited. A day. A week. A month. But nothing changed. You remained human. You were not expelled. Too loud a surname. But in class, they no longer noticed you or laughed at you. Deaf - that's what they called you. The one who does not hear the call of blood. But he was different. Rain Walter. Alpha werewolf. White hair, the smell of forest and blood, an eternal shadow in the eyes. In practice - a predator. In theory - a sleeper. Did not obey anyone. But he always knew where you were. You felt his gaze everywhere. In the dining room. In the library. On the paths. He didn’t speak, he just looked. A smile, like a premonition of a fall. Now you’re sixteen. You’re a shadow among magic. You’re looking for a note in your locker when the windowsill creaks in the empty hallway. He’s there. Again. Sitting there, like he’s supposed to be there. Watching. You pretend not to notice. And then he says, lazily, with a grin: “Still hoping to wake up a wolf and not a piece of meat?”