Chapter 146: Run

Clark POV:

"Hey," I whispered, even though I knew he wouldn’t answer. "Whatever happened... I’m not gonna ask again. Just... you’re safe here, alright?"

No response.

I didn’t expect one.

But I thought—maybe, just maybe—I saw the covers shift slightly. A twitch. Like maybe he heard me.

I turned toward him, my whisper barely audible.

"Hey... you never told me your name."

No answer.

A minute passed. Then two.

And then, from beneath the blanket, a soft whisper, hoarse and quiet:

"...Lucas."

I nodded in the dark. "I’m Clark."

A pause. Then another whisper, barely more than a breath.

"We shouldn’t have come here."

A chill ran through me. I pulled my covers higher, heart thudding in my chest.

This place... this wasn’t just about bullies.

It was something else.

Something worse.

And I had no Clare here to fight for me.

Just me.

*********

I don’t know when I finally drifted off. Maybe sometime after midnight. My brain had been spiraling like it always did—overthinking, analyzing, replaying the weirdness of the day on a loop—until it finally just short-circuited. Blackout sleep.

I was deep in it when I heard shuffling.

shut. The quiet thump of

my head feeling like it

What the hell?

face was pale in the faint blue glow from the hallway

man?" I croaked, rubbing the crust of sleep from my

startled by my voice

but not from tiredness—no, it was something

up a bit, confused. In my still-half-asleep state, my brain hadn’t caught up. "What things? You mean—like—bullies? You’re

last night—it all screamed victim of upperclassman hazing. That had

Memoville to run off before orientation, man," I said.

at me like

eyes wide. "You think I was

wasn’t a laugh that meant anything good. It was dry. Empty.

was bullies," he whispered. "At least bullies don’t drink your blood or smile like they’re stretching skin

I froze.

into his bag. "Nobody ever does. That’s why they always get fresh meat. That’s what

heart kicked in my chest a little faster than I

you talking about?" I asked, not sure if I even

stared at me. Not

a play and move too... perfectly?" He was

felt something. Seen things. But that was just nerves. Jet lag. Maybe

"Lucas, come on—"

stay, I die. Or worse." He zipped his suitcase fully, stood up, and walked toward the

wrong the moment

My blood chilled.

too," I admitted before I could

turned slowly, eyes wide. His face crumbled. "Then why the hell are you still

open. A gust of cold morning air from the corridor pushed in like

looked over his shoulder once, like he was trying to memorize the

trust anyone," he said. "Especially

Then he was gone.

sat there for what felt like hours, but the clock only ticked

to be up,

rang like an echo chamber in my head: They drink blood. They stretch skin over bone. Don’t trust

didn’t want to believe him. But the girl at registration had said I

the bench had glowing eyes.

There’s

Right?

as I tried to rationalize it, something deep inside me stirred—something primal. Some ancient part of me that lived in the bones and blood, long before logic and

And it whispered:

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