Chapter 3 A predator's Demand.

Rowena's POV. 3.

A predators Demand.

The morning slammed into me like a brick wall. My head was throbbing, every muscle screamed, and I felt like I hadn't slept a wink. Which, honestly, wasn't far from the truth. I'd spent the whole damn night wrestling with my thoughts, a mental tug-of-war that left me exhausted.

Should I just give in to Jason's offer?

Or should I just walk away?

It wasn't my fight. That girl wasn't my problem. I didn't even know her. But the way Jason had looked at me, like he already knew what I was going to do, the threat in his voice... it was eating me alive.

I knew he meant it.

He was a vampire. Rules meant nothing to him. He could break them, twist them, do whatever he wanted, and get away with it. Hurting a human? That was probably a nothing for him.

I dragged myself up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Cindy was already awake, practically vibrating with nervous energy as she grabbed her bag.

"Rowena, what are you going to do?" she asked, her voice tight with worry.

I frowned, pretending to be clueless. "What am I going to do about what?"

Cindy rolled her eyes so hard I thought they'd get stuck. "Oh, come on. Fuck! Don't give me that crap. You know exactly what I'm talking about," she snapped, a flicker of irritation in her eyes.

I shrugged, avoiding her gaze as I reached for my bra. "Nope. Totally lost."

"It's about Jason, duh!" She threw her hands up in the air. "Are you going to agree to his deal? Nobody messes with him, Rowena. Nobody."

My jaw clenched, my fingers gripping the bra strap too tightly. "I'm not going to be anyone's slave. I'm not going to be his toy, his errand bitch. I'm not letting that fucking bastard control me." My voice was sharp, laced with anger.

Cindy groaned, that high-pitched sound that always shredded on my nerves. "Rowena, your temper... you need to get it under control. Maybe you should just agree. You wouldn't actually let him hurt someone, would you?"

I turned around, my eyes burning with fury. "Hurt someone? Cindy, this isn't the first time he's done something like this. And it won't be the last. If he wants to hurt someone, he will... whether I agree or not."

"But you stopped him," she argued, her voice rising.

I scoffed, a harsh, bitter sound. "And you dragged me into it! So don't start playing the blame game now." My chest was heaving, a mix of frustration and guilt churning inside me.

"You knew I couldn't stand by and watch someone get hurt. And yet, you still-" My throat tightened, cutting off my words.

Cindy's face crumbled. "I'm sorry," she whispered, barely audible. "But please... just agree. For me? And- maybe for her?"

I shook my head, the word a harsh whisper. "No way. That's it. No more talking about this." I grabbed my bag and headed for the door. "And if you want a therapy session, do it alone."

I yanked the door open and stormed out.

"Rowena, wait! Please!" Cindy called after me, her voice panicked.

But I didn't stop.

I Couldn't stop.

Because deep down, I knew something she didn't.

I was going to do something about it. I just didn't know what the hell that was yet.

"Rowena... fuck... where are you going?" Cindy's voice yanked me out of my thoughts. I was halfway down the hallway, heading in completely the wrong direction.

I turned around, a blush creeping up my neck. Cindy was leaning against the lockers, a sly grin plastered on her face.

"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to sound casual, even though my mind felt like scrambled eggs.

"It's history class, remember? Like, the one we're already late for? Did your brain decide to take a vacation to Bora Bora without you?" She waggled a finger in my face, all dramatic.

"Fuck!" I muttered under my breath. History was the last thing on my mind.

Cindy's grin widened. "And guess what?" She wiggled her eyebrows, practically bouncing with excitement.

I raised an eyebrow, bracing myself. What now?

"We're gonna see Jason in class today." She hummed the words, like she'd won the lottery.

My heart did this weird, lurching thing in my chest. "No... no way. He never goes to class. I'm sure of it." I tried to exhale a breath of disbelief, trying to ignore how my pulse quickened at the thought.

Cindy just smirked. "Well, my gut – and my sources– says he will."

She said it so matter-of-factly, as if she'd already seen it happen. As if she knew something I didn't. I shoved the thought away. Please don't let her be right.

And then I saw him.

The moment I stepped into the classroom, my eyes immediately locked onto his. It was like some kind of sick magnetic pull.

He was sitting right at the front. Jason. In history class. His long legs were crossed casually on the empty seat beside him, arms folded behind his head like he owned the freaking place. Which, in a way, he kind of did.

That smug, relaxed posture.

That goddamn attitude that made me want to punch him.

"Miss Northwood?"

The professor's sharp voice sliced through my thoughts, making me jump. I hadn't even realized I'd stopped walking.

I stood frozen in the doorway, a hundred pairs of eyes suddenly on me.

"Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to take a seat and stop distracting my class? You're already late!"

"Um... yes, sorry ma'am," I stammered, my voice shaky. I scurried inside, trying to shrink into myself.

As if the universe was conspiring against me, Cindy had already snagged a seat with someone else. I scanned the room, desperately searching for a free spot. Anywhere but Jason's free seat.

And, of course, the only available seat was the one Jason's legs were currently occupying. My stomach dropped.

"Miss Northwood, if there's no seat, kindly leave the class. We'd have it that you didn't attend class today," the professor snapped, irritation lacing her voice.

Panic clenched my insides. This couldn't be happening. I clenched my fists and turned toward Jason, my face burning.

"Um... um...excuse me..." My voice was barely a whisper.

He didn't flinch. Didn't even look at me. That infuriatingly smug grin still played on his lips like he knew exactly what he was doing.

The whole class was watching. I could feel their eyes on me, judging, snorting with amusement.

And just when I thought he was going to completely ignore me, he suddenly moved his legs away – so abruptly that the movement itself felt like a deliberate shot.

Laughter rippled through the room. I wanted to disappear.

Panic.

Shame.

Humiliation.

I didn't even know what I was feeling, just a tidal wave of awful. I practically threw myself into the seat, my face burning.

And then – just as I thought it couldn't get any worse – Jason leaned in.

His hot breath tickled my neck, sending an unwanted shiver down my spine.

"Time is ticking, little human," he whispered. His voice was low, cold, dangerous. "I'm waiting. And my patience? It's really, beyond awful."

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. I could feel the heat radiating off him, smell his cologne... it was suffocating.

For the next hour, I sat completely frozen, rigid with anxiety.

Whatever the professor was droning on about didn't even register. History? Who cared about the history class?

My mind was a complete mess, a swirling mix of fear and... something else I didn't want to acknowledge.

And then, the moment the lecture ended, Jason moved.

He didn't leave like the others, heading for the door and escape.

He walked straight toward me, his towering frame casting a shadow over my desk, making me feel even smaller.

And before I could even blink, slam – his palms hit the table, trapping me. I flinched.

"Meet me at the back of the school dorm tonight."

His voice was a low growl, each word dripping with authority.

It wasn't a request.

It was an order.

It was a threat.

"I don't want to wait. And you better not think about wasting my time."

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away – his little group of followers trailing closely behind him like lost puppies .

I sat there, my heart pounding wildly against my ribs. I couldn't breathe.

I was so fucked.