Lush omniscient narrator exposes NSFW campus rumors and desires swirling around Cody and the sisters.
From the moment the battered black sedan creaked to a stop before Ravensloch’s ancient gates, the campus atmosphere thickened—electric with rumor and unconscious fear.
Isabella emerged first: posture ramrod-straight, dark hair glinting, her authoritative gaze sweeping the crowd like a general surveying troops. The tailored line of her skirt, the glint of silver at her ankle, the subtle flicker of command beneath her reserved expression—all bespoke discipline forged by years of danger.
Sophia followed in a riot of mismatched colors—vintage band tee hugging her curves, velvet jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder. Glitter caught in her tousled hair, a grin flickering and vanishing as quickly as neon in a thunderstorm. Her every step dared someone to stare; her magnetism rippled through the crowd in waves of nervous laughter.
Grace stepped lightly, almost lost in thought—moon-pale skin luminous beneath tangled brown hair, linen dress swirling around her boots. She clutched her silver chain with an absent hand, eyes flickering with alchemical calculation as she measured threat and possibility in each face. Her wings shivered invisibly as anxiety spiked and faded beneath her calm exterior.
Last came Sara—petite, almost swallowed by her black layers, silver glinting at every joint and shadowy edge. Her multitude of piercings flashed with every defiant tilt of her head. Eyes rimmed with kohl swept the crowd for weakness, already bracing for cruelty or fascination. No one saw the tremor in her hands as she tucked a lock of hair behind a pierced ear—a secret prayer for invisibility. But when her gaze collided with Cody Halvorsen’s across the quad, something caught—heat lancing through her chest, heart racing with a crush so potent it nearly knocked her off her feet. It was unwelcome, unexpected, and absolutely undeniable: instant longing tangled with suspicion.
No one saw the wings or doubled canines—those secrets bound by rituals more potent than any campus myth. Only the sisters felt the coil of danger beneath their skin: one slip, one careless reveal, and centuries of hunter’s bloodlust could be unleashed. Within the locket each wore, the same photo of four faces reminded them of what was truly at stake: survival, sisterhood, and secrets that could never be spoken.