Sage's POV

The gate loomed before me like the mouth of a beast, and I kept my head down as I walked through it onto the campus of Blackthorn University.

My thick glasses sat heavy on my nose. The braces on my teeth felt like wires cutting into my gums. I had pulled my hair back into a tight, ugly bun that would give me a headache by noon. I wore big baggy jeans and an oversized sweater that swallowed my whole body. I looked like nothing, and that was the point.

My father died before I could form a single memory of him. For as long as I could remember, my mother and I had drifted from pack to pack, never settling anywhere for too long. We never left traces, and we never made friends, until we landed in Nightfall.

I touched my cheek under my glasses. The birthmark was small, faint. Most people would not even notice it. But my mother said it was a tracker, a mark Nyx's servants could see from a distance. The glasses were enchanted to hide it, and the braces suppressed its glow.

If the mark was seen, Nyx would find me.

I did not know who Nyx was. My mother never explained. She just said, "Hide your face, Sage. Hide your beauty. Hide everything. One day, when you are eighteen, the disguise will lift. Until then, stay invisible."

I was seventeen, and in Eleven more months, I'll be Eighteen.

Graduate, get a real job,and help Mom pay the medical bills. That was my goal, and nothing more.

I clutched the strap of my backpack and started toward the academic building. Students walked past me in clusters, pointing and snickering as they walked by. I was used to it.

Then a group of girls blocked my path.

The one in the center had platinum blonde hair and eyes like a snake. Blaire Sinclair. I knew her name because everyone knew her. She was the daughter of the pack's Beta, and she was beautiful, cruel, and untouchable all at the same time.

"Look what the wind dragged in," Blaire said. Her friends giggled. "Transfer trash. Do you even know what pack you crawled into?"

I said nothing. I stepped to the side, and Blaire stepped with me.

"I asked you a question, four-eyes."

"I am a member of the Nightfall Pack," I said quietly.

Blaire laughed. "Barely. Omega trash like you does not count. You are a charity case." She looked at her friends. "My father told me about her mother, how she begged for a place to stay. Her mother begged like a dog."

My hands clenched at my sides, because I knew my mother did not beg. My mother healed Luna when no one else could. So she earned our place.

But I said nothing. One complaint to the dean and my mother's job at Silvermoon General Hospital would disappear. Alpha Kael owned the hospital, and Blaire's father was his Beta.

I stepped around Blaire and kept walking.

My locker was in the basement. Someone had carved the word "OMEGA" into the metal door. I opened it.

A dead rat tumbled out and landed at my feet. Its eyes were wide open, and its body was stiff. I kicked it into the corner because I had seen worse. I pulled out my textbooks and walked to my statistics class.

I sat at the back. The professor droned on about probability and I took notes. I smiled to myself. School was the one place where I did not feel worthless. My grades kept my scholarship alive. Without it, I could not stay. Without staying, my mother would be alone.

The girl next to me leaned over. "I am Sloane," she whispered. "You are Sage, right?"

I nodded.

"Do you want to sit together at lunch?" Sloane asked, smiling.

I looked at her properly for the first time. I had noticed Sloane before. She was one of the few people who had ever smiled at me in the three weeks since I transferred here. There was something soft in her eyes and kind.

No one had ever asked to sit with me.

"Okay," I said.

Sloane's smile widened. "Yeah? Cool. Great. I mean—" She laughed at herself, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I was prepared for you to say no, honestly. You have got that whole 'don't talk to me' vibe going on."

I blinked. "I do?"

"Oh, totally," she said, grinning. "Very mysterious. Very brooding. I respect it." She pulled out her notebook and flipped to a fresh page. "But just so you know, I am very hard to scare off."

Something flickered in my chest. I did not say anything back. But I did not stay away either.

The rest of the morning passed. I went to history, then literature. At lunch, I sat with Sloane at the corner of the cafeteria. She talked about her family, her pack, and her love for old movies. I listened. I did not talk about myself, because there was nothing to say.

My mother worked double shifts, my father was dead, I had no friends before Sloane, and I had no life before this moment.

After lunch, I walked to the locker room to swap my books. The hallway was crowded. Students pushed past me, someone shoved my shoulder, and someone else laughed. I kept my head down and turned the corner.

I slammed into a wall of muscle.

My books scattered across the floor.

I looked up.

He was tall with broad shoulders. His dark hair was wet from a shower. A snakebite piercing glinted on his lower lip. Tattoos crawled up his arms and disappeared under the sleeves of his black racing jacket. Across his chest, red letters spelled out: WILDFIRE RACING.

His eyes were cold and dark. They looked at me like I was something stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

My heart stopped.

Then it slammed back to life, too fast, too hard, for no reason I understood. I had never seen this person before. But my body knew something my mind had not caught up to yet.

Something stirred inside me. A presence. A feeling. I did not have a name for it. My mother said my wolf would not awaken until I turned eighteen. So I pushed the feeling aside.

"S-sorry," I stammered.

He did not respond. He just looked at me, stepped around, and walked away.

I knelt down and picked up my books one by one. My hands were shaking.

"That is Zane Wilder."

I looked up. Sloane stood behind me, her face pale.

"Future Alpha of the Nightfall Pack," she said quietly. "Captain of Wildfire Racing. He is rich, dangerous, and completely untouchable." She grabbed my arm. "Stay away from him."

I nodded. I meant it.

After school, I walked past the bulletin board. A flyer caught my eye: WILDFIRE RACING IS HIRING AN ASSISTANT. GOOD PAY.

I stopped. My mother's medical bills were piling up. Naomi Bennett worked double shifts at the hospital, but it was not enough. The illness she hid from me was getting worse.

I needed money.

I tore the flyer off the board. I applied. I got an interview. I was told to report to the garage after school.

The garage was massive. Race cars gleamed under fluorescent lights. The smell of oil and gasoline filled my nose as I walked to Engine 7, the car I was assigned to inspect before tomorrow's qualifying race.

I opened the hood, and I checked the engine.

The brake line was loose. Too loose. Someone had loosened it on purpose.

My blood ran cold. I reported it to the head mechanic. I wrote it in the maintenance log. I went home.

The next morning, I heard the news.

Zane Wilder almost died during practice. His brakes had failed. Someone had tampered with the car.

The maintenance log was missing.

The last person seen near Engine 7 was me.

Zane's voice echoed through the garage. "Find her. Now."