Chapter 78: Morning Alarm

Vance

The alarm for the morning roll call was blaring so loudly Vance felt like his eardrums were going to physically shatter right inside his skull.

The harsh, metallic ringing echoed relentlessly through the cabin, vibrating the wooden walls and shaking him straight out of a miserable, restless sleep. All around him, the rest of the students was likely scrambling, but Vance just laid there for a long, agonizing moment, staring up at the dark timber ceiling with hatred in his eyes.

"WHY THE FUCK MUST IT BE SO FOUND!" he hissed to no one in particular, his voice raw and raspy from sleep.

Dragging himself out of bed with a heavy, dramatic groan, Vance forced his stiff legs onto the cold floorboards. He was exhausted, annoyed, and in the absolute worst mood imaginable. He stumbled out of his room and headed down the narrow hallway toward the main living area, practically dragging his feet like a corpse.

BANG!

"Ow! Fuck!"

Vance went flying forward, his boot catching violently on the exact same canvas bag sitting near the entrance. He hit the floor hard, his face slamming directly against the rough wood, sending a blinding, searing spike of pain shooting right through the bridge of his nose.

He lay there on the floor for three agonizing seconds, clutching his face as hot tears of pure rage pricked at the corners of his eyes. "Oh, come on!" he roared at the ceiling, his voice cracking with exasperation.

Scrambling back up to his feet, Vance reared his leg back and aggressively kicked the bag again, sending it skittering across the room. "I swear to the Goddess, I am going to murder Tr—"

He froze.

His eyes locked onto the battered canvas bag resting against the wall. A sudden, sharp realization hit him like a bucket of ice water, instantly freezing the rage in his veins.

Wait a second...

Vance slowly straightened up, wiping his throbbing nose with the back of his hand as he stared at the bag. If Travis’s bag was still sitting right here, untouched and unbothered, it meant one very specific thing.

"He didn’t come back last night," Vance whispered to himself, his eyebrows pulling together into a tight, murderous crease.

He scoffed loudly, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as his jaw clenched tight. This boy was officially playing games. "This boy has to be avoiding us at this stage," Vance muttered out loud, his blood beginning to simmer all over again. "He knows we’re going to be right there the second he shows his face. He’s literally hiding from us!"

Snarky, bitter, and completely fed up, Vance stormed into the tiny cabin kitchen. He grabbed the old metal kettle, filling it with water and slamming it onto the stove to boil himself a piping hot cup of black coffee. He needed caffeine immediately if he was going to survive the day without snapping someone’s neck.

Just as the water began to whistle softly, the heavy front door of the cabin creaked open. Vance turned around, squinting his eyes as he took in the figure stepping through the doorway.

It was Malric. And he looked like an absolute, total wreck.

His older brother looked completely drained and exhausted, deep dark circles bruised beneath his bloodshot eyes, his clothes rumpled and damp from the night air. To make matters even worse, there were actual blades of grass and tiny twigs tangled messy through his dark hair.

Vance squinted harder, utterly stunned by the state of him. Oh wow, Vance thought to himself, a dry, sarcastic chuckle bubbling in his throat. He looks like he has just gone through the absolute most.

"Where were you?" Vance asked, his tone dripping with suspicious disbelief. "Don’t tell me you were out all night."

Malric let out a low, weary breath, running a hand over his face, unknowingly pushing a blade of grass further into his hair. "Yeah. I was out all night."

Vance practically gaped at him. "What in the world were you doing out all night?!"

"I was looking for Keali," Malric grunted, rubbing the back of his stiff neck as he leaned heavily against the kitchen counter.

Vance instantly threw his head back and let out a loud, mocking laugh. "Dude! Keali came back last night! He looks way less rough than you right now. I think he’s passed out asleep in his room."

Malric stiffened slightly, waving a dismissive hand through the air as if trying to brush the topic off entirely. "Whatever. I was looking for Keali, and then... you know, I picked up a scent."

At the word scent, every single muscle in Vance’s body snapped tight. The air in his lungs locked up instantly. his eyes widened as a sudden, agonizing wave of pure desperation surged straight into his chest. Vance stepped forward, his voice trembling, laced with a raw, breathless panic that he couldn’t even pretend to hide. "What do you mean scent? Is it... is it a Jasmine scent?!"

The kitchen fell dead silent.

Malric paused, staring at Vance for a long, agonizing second. His expression remained unreadable, his dark eyes locking onto Vance’s desperate face with a strange, heavy stillness. "No," Malric said flatly, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. "No... it wasn’t a Jasmine scent."

Vance stared back at him, his heart hammering wildly against his ribs. A strange, bitter knot twisted deep in his gut. I feel like he’s lying, Vance thought, his wolf scratching furiously beneath his skin, screaming that something was deeply wrong. He’s definitely hiding something.

Before Vance could demand a real answer, Malric quickly spoke up again, cutting off any further questions. "I picked up Travis’s scent. I was trying to find him, but I didn’t find him. I’m guessing he’s not here also."

Hearing that, the frantic tension in Vance’s shoulders slowly deflated, replaced by his usual moody frustration. "Yeah, he’s not here."

Malric lifted a single dark brow, looking at him with mild confusion. "Why are you not looking up and down for him since he’s not here?"

Is he joking?

Vance stared straight at his brother trying to put two and one together.