Chapter 153: Calm
The late afternoon sun spilled across the Beacon Hills High courtyard, coating everything in a soft, golden haze — the kind of light that made the world look deceptively peaceful. It caught the edges of lockers, glinted off car roofs, and wrapped the students in warmth that didn't quite reach beneath the surface. For a fleeting moment, it almost looked like any other ordinary day — laughter echoing across the quad, the hum of chatter, sneakers scuffing against the pavement. Almost.
Lucas sat perched on the low stone wall just outside the main building, flanked by Malia on his right and Isaac on his left. He absently watched groups of students drift by in loose clusters — talking, teasing, making weekend plans — all unaware of the quiet tension sitting between the three of them.
Isaac wasn't paying attention to any of it. His gaze was locked across the courtyard, unblinking, heavy with something unspoken.
Allison Argent.
She stood near the east steps with Lydia, Jackson, and the rest of their usual crowd — hair catching the light, a soft smile curving her lips as she listened to something Lydia said. But the smile wasn't for him. It hadn't been for a while now.
Malia noticed where his eyes had gone and let out an exaggerated groan. "Oh, come on," she muttered, tipping her head back with a dramatic roll of her eyes. "Don't tell me we're doing this again." She angled her gaze toward Isaac, her tone laced with biting amusement. "What happened this time? I thought you two were going strong."
She didn't wait for an answer. "Then again," she added dryly, "you killing two hunters — even if it wasn't your fault — and her family's little stunt of kidnapping us probably didn't do much for your relationship. Just a hunch."
Isaac's jaw tightened, the muscle twitching near his temple. He didn't look away from Allison, didn't rise to the bait. His silence said enough. There was a storm building in him, the kind that didn't need thunder to make its presence known.
Lucas shot Malia a sharp look. "He knows how bad things are, Malia. You don't have to keep digging at him."
She raised both hands in mock surrender. "I'm just saying what everyone's thinking." Her voice softened slightly, though the smirk remained. "Look at him. He's sitting there like some tragic, lovesick puppy. It's pathetic. I swear, if he mopes any harder, I might actually smack some sense into him."
Isaac turned toward her then — slowly — and the glare he gave her could've peeled the paint off the lockers behind her. Still, he didn't speak. The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut.
Lucas sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. The air between them felt thick — the kind of uneasy quiet that came from old arguments and unhealed wounds. He didn't want to fight. Not today.
Malia folded her arms. "You know I told you from the start, Lucas. Nothing good was ever going to come from Isaac getting mixed up with the Argent girl. But nooo, you said we should give her a chance." Her tone was half bitter, half teasing. "Guess how that turned out."
"Malia," Lucas said quietly, his patience thinning, "just leave him alone."
She shrugged like it didn't matter, though her eyes softened for the briefest second before she looked away. The three of them sat in that uneasy silence — sunlight stretching long shadows over the courtyard, the sound of distant laughter already fading with the day.
Then someone's voice shattered it.
A student came running up, words tumbling out too fast to catch at first. "Hey— hey, did you guys hear? Erica— she collapsed! In class! They took her to the hospital!"
Lucas blinked, his heart skipping a beat. "What?" he managed, pushing off the wall.
"She just— just fell over," the student stammered, still breathless. "They said she wasn't breathing right. The ambulance came, like, five minutes ago." And just as quickly, the kid was gone again, swallowed by the shifting crowd.
For a long heartbeat, none of them moved. Malia's eyes snapped to Isaac's; Isaac looked to Lucas. It was the same silent agreement they'd shared too many times before — the one that didn't need words.
In the next instant, they were already moving.
Backpacks dropped to the ground, books scattered and forgotten, the three of them sprinted across the courtyard toward the parking lot. The sounds of laughter and conversation faded behind them, replaced by the pounding rhythm of footsteps and the thudding pulse of fear in their chests.
Lucas didn't say it out loud, but he could feel it — that creeping sense he'd been trying to ignore for days. The air itself felt heavier, charged with something dark and familiar.
Something was wrong.
Deeply wrong.
And as they tore across the asphalt, a single truth settled cold and certain in Lucas's mind:
The calm was over.
Whatever had been hiding in the dark wasn't hiding anymore.
It was moving.
And it was coming for them.