The ferry ride was quiet except for the low rumble of the Humvee’s diesel engine. Gabriel sat in the passenger seat, sunglasses on, trying—and failing—not to grin like a maniac. Even with the windows down, the smell of saltwater clung to the air, the kind that seeps into everything it touches.
“Still think we should’ve kept it low-key?” I asked over the engine’s growl.
“Low-key is for people who don’t have a military Humvee,” he shot back, smirking.
We pulled into the school lot just as the first wave of buses was unloading. The sound of those kids and the usual carpool chatter died off quick when the Humvee’s brakes hissed. Heads turned. Conversations stalled.
I shut off the engine, the sudden quiet almost as loud as the motor had been. Gabriel and I stepped out in sync, sunglasses in place, not rushing, not speaking—just walking like we belonged at the center of this little universe.
And for a moment… no one dared to touch us.
Until the new guy decided to try.
Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing the smugness of someone who thought he owned every room he walked into. I caught the way his fellow jocks eyed him—half warning, half pity—but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
“Well, well,” he said loud enough for the nearest crowd to hear. “Guess the freak bus has a VIP upgrade now.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t move. I took one slow step toward the guy, tilting my head like I hadn’t heard him right.
“You wanna try that again?” I asked, my voice low but carrying.
He snorted. “What, you gonna bite me?”
The air between us tightened like a wire. My hand went to the bridge of my sunglasses.
“You really want me to?” I said—and slid them down just enough.
The shift was small, controlled, deliberate. Blue bled into gold, bright and molten, catching the morning sun in a way that made the light itself seem sharper. I let the growl rumble low and steady, a sound that didn’t belong in a human throat.
His smirk died. His breathing hitched. The scent of his fear was instant and sharp—followed by the unmistakable realization that he’d just pissed himself.
The crowd around us froze, a ripple of shock rolling outward. Nobody laughed. Nobody spoke. They just… knew.
I pushed the sunglasses back up and stepped past him like he didn’t exist. Gabriel fell into stride beside me, but I could feel the questions radiating off him.
We made it halfway to the doors before he leaned in, voice barely above a whisper. “That… was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. Can I do that? Tell me I can do that.”
I just grinned. “One day, pup.”
The bell rang, but nobody rushed us. Not after that.