Rejected by the Beta, Claimed by the Alpha

Chapter 149: Horror Town

CLARK POV:

The campus was massive.

And when I say massive, I mean get-lost-and-die-of-old-age-before-you-find-the-dorms-again kind of massive. The buildings were arranged like someone had handed an architect a puzzle with missing pieces and told them to just wing it. Halls twisted and turned like a literal maze. If I’d been alone, I probably would’ve ended up in a basement broom closet thinking it was the library.

But thankfully, Sara was a genius with directions. Seriously. She didn’t just remember where places were—she actually started pointing out shortcuts and alternate exits like she’d been here for years thanks for the map. Meanwhile, I was mentally marking trees and doors like a lost five-year-old at the mall.

Our first stop: the library.

The place was huge. Colossal. It had multiple floors—each stacked with rows and rows of books like they were trying to win a Guinness World Record. It wasn’t just a library; it was a monument to paper. As I stared up the spiral staircases, I couldn’t help but wonder: Has anyone ever actually made it to the top floor? Do you win a prize if you do? Do you see God?

Sara whispered something about wanting to come back here later, and I just nodded, still dazed by the sheer size of it. I liked books—well, sometimes—but this felt like the kind of place that expected you to be smart just to breathe the air.

Next stop: the laboratory wing.

Good lord. NASA would’ve felt underdressed in there. Sleek surfaces. Monitors humming quietly. Machines with lights that blinked like they were talking to each other in robot code. I half expected to see someone walk by in a hazmat suit, holding an alien fetus in a jar.

"This place is insane," I muttered, peeking into one of the glass-walled rooms. "If I accidentally press a button in there, I bet I’d launch a satellite."

Sara just laughed. "Better not touch anything. You might start a new Cold War."

She wasn’t wrong.

After that, we wandered through the campus gardens. Honestly? I thought it’d be the chillest spot so far. A little nature, a breeze, maybe some benches. And yeah, it looked like a place made for couples to sit and read poetry to each other. Vines curled around wrought-iron benches, and flowers were so perfectly arranged it looked artificial.

But something about the place felt... off.

Like the quiet was too quiet. The air was thick with this weird tension, like the trees were listening or watching. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it didn’t feel like a study spot. It felt like a place that pretended to be one.

"Do you feel that?" I asked.

Sara gave me a weird look. "Feel what?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. Must be in my head."

But then—just as we were about to leave—we saw them.

A couple tucked behind a tall hedge, the guy clearly kissing the girl’s neck like they were in a vampire movie. Both of us just froze.

rush to my face. We bolted like we’d caught a

Sara said between breaths, still half-laughing, "that

I shook my head.

said, laughing

lunch time. And we needed a break from the

the university," Sara suggested. "Might as well explore the town while we

was hiding—whether it

And maybe dessert.

a book by its cover"? Yeah—well, if the town outside our university

halls, ghostly gardens, overly handsome seniors

of

were way too quiet for a college town. I mean, this was supposed to be a place full of life, right? Students, bars, traffic, drunk laughter, the usual. Instead, it looked like someone had hit "pause"

duller here. I didn’t even

her steps a little slower than usual. "Is it just

thought I was the only one

chuckled, but it was more nervous than amused.

I muttered. "And it doesn’t like what it

that buzzed even though it was daytime. A hardware shop with rusted tools in the window. A pharmacy with dust on

the people. Not many of them, but the ones we did

just say they weren’t handing out welcome

and unblinking, like we were ghosts. A woman pushing a stroller literally crossed the street when she saw us coming. A teenager leaned on his bike and

our

laugh. "I was hoping it was just my imagination. But this place gives

one with a flickering "OPEN" sign in the window and two tables visible from outside. It didn’t look like much, but we were

we walked in,

Literally.

us. All eight of them. The restaurant wasn’t packed, but

gave a tiny

I smiled awkwardly.

No one smiled back.

tall waitress in a plain red apron approached us, wiping her hands on a towel. She looked about late twenties—pretty in that sharp, angular way—but her expression wasn’t

two from the university?" she

We nodded.

a line before she exhaled

I asked, trying not to

she gave us a slow once-over, her gaze lingering just a second too long, like she was evaluating

That was somehow worse.