Claimed by the Alpha and the Vampire Prince: Masquerading as a Man

Blaze’s grip tightened for a fraction of a second before he finally let go, his lips curling into something that was not a smile.

"If I ever see you with him," his voice was cold, a quiet, creeping threat, "or anyone of his kind, you won’t like what happens next, little pet."

Little pet?

What the hell did that mean?

I didn’t ask.

Didn’t even think about asking.

Because right now, with my pulse hammering and my knees weak, the only thing keeping me from falling apart was the sheer terror gluing my body together.

So, I nodded. Quickly.

Desperately.

Because fuck it—I didn’t care what he meant by his kind. Didn’t care why he and Reed wanted to rip each other’s throats out or why this entire damn school felt like a graveyard for common sense—

I just wanted to live.

Hell, I was this close to pissing my pants, and that wasn’t an exaggeration.

It’s not every day you get an angry, blood-sucking undead monster in your face and live to tell the tale.

And right now, my current mission in life wasn’t some grand revenge plot.

It wasn’t to uncover Clark’s killer.

It wasn’t even to find out the truth.

Nope.

All of that? Scrapped.

My new mission?

Survive this goddamn minute and get the hell out of this godforsaken town.

Because if I thought I was ready for this job before, I was a fucking moron.

Give me a rich brat to beat the entitlement out of?

Sure.

A normal, everyday bully?

Fine.

But things that go bump in the night?

Yeah.

Call a fucking priest.

Blaze leaned in closer, and my breath hitched—a cold, paralyzing terror creeping into my veins like venom.

This was it.

This was where I died.

This was where he’d rip out my throat, drain me dry, and toss my corpse off the edge of some godforsaken building.

Just like I was starting to think had happened to Clark.

Had my twin felt this same crippling dread before he died?

Had he known?

Had he looked into these same cold, merciless eyes and realized—far too late—that his death was already decided?

I barely had time to process the thought when Blaze’s lips parted.

I braced myself for fangs sinking into my flesh—

But instead, he said something that chilled me even more.

"Run."

Just like he had that first time.

Just like a warning.

Just like an order.

And my legs didn’t need to be told twice.

I fucking ran.

Didn’t know where I was going.

Didn’t care.

Just picked the paths with the most light—tried to follow the faint voices of other students in the distance, hoping that if I just kept running, I’d reach something that felt normal again.

But I kept looking back—

Because who the hell wouldn’t?

Because what if he changed his mind?

What if he decided he did want a little taste of my blood after all?

What do you know? Lucky me.

I somehow managed to find my way out.

Yeah, after a few wrong turns and some moments where I was sure I’d stumbled straight into some haunted abyss, but that didn’t matter now.

What mattered was—I was out.

Now, all I needed was a cab to take me to the airport, because there was no fucking way I was staying another day in this horror-stricken, nightmare-infested country.

The cab pulled up, and I didn’t hesitate.

I threw open the door, one foot already inside when I heard my name.

"Clause!"

Sara.

I saw her rushing toward me, breathless, eyes wild with panic. But I didn’t wait.

"Drive. Now. To the airport."

The cab driver, bless his soul, didn’t ask questions—just hit the gas.

I didn’t turn around.

Didn’t give Sara the chance to reach me.

Some friend she was.

Yeah, I was mad at her.

If only she had told me.

Told me that Blaze was a freaking vampire.

Told me that I should have run the moment I set foot in this godforsaken place.

Told me that this wasn’t just some school with a bullying problem—it was a damn feeding ground.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she fed me vague warnings and dodged every question I asked. Why?

Why warn someone halfway instead of just telling them the truth?

How many people had died because of her silence?

My anger boiled over.

And those mosquito bites I saw on her neck?

Yeah.

I wasn’t stupid.

Those weren’t bug bites. They were bite marks.

Was she feeding those creatures? Was that why she was always so afraid and jumpy when they came near her?

Was she a willing victim?

Or just another pawn in their game?

As much as I was furious, I couldn’t bring myself to leave her to her demise.

I was getting out of here.

But once I did—once I was safe—I’d find someone who would listen. Someone who could help.

Someone who could burn this entire place to the ground.

*****

The airport was bright, bustling, and filled with people—yet somehow, I still felt trapped.

I went through the usual motions—security checks, passport control, baggage screening. Each step brought me closer to freedom, and I clung to that hope like a lifeline.

Then I got to the ticket counter.

And that’s where everything went to hell.

The woman behind the counter barely glanced at me before her expression shifted—not the usual neutral disinterest of customer service, but something else. Something off.

Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard, shoulders suddenly tense.

"Uh... I’m sorry, sir, but you’re not allowed to board any flights."

I blinked. "What?"

She swallowed, eyes flicking to something behind me before darting back to the screen. Her hands shook slightly as she typed again, as if double-checking.

"You—" She stopped herself, forcing a stiff smile. "I don’t have the authorization to issue you a ticket."

My stomach dropped.

"Authorization from who?" I demanded.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she gripped the edges of the desk so hard her knuckles turned white.

I glanced around. The other staff—those at nearby counters, even the ones checking people’s passports—were acting strange too. Their smiles were too forced. Their movements too stiff. And every now and then, their eyes would flick to something or someone behind me.

Like they were being watched.

I clenched my fists. "Look, I don’t care where the plane goes—just get me on one. I’ll switch flights when I land."

Her hands trembled as she reached for the phone.

"I—I’m sorry, sir. You can’t travel."

"What do you mean I can’t travel?!" My voice rose, panic creeping in. "I have my passport, my ID, and I’m willing to buy a ticket. So why the hell not?!"

Again, her gaze flicked past me—and this time, I turned to follow it.

That’s when I saw them.

Security.

Only—these weren’t normal airport security guys.

They were huge. Broad-shouldered, built like military operatives, not your typical rent-a-cop airport personnel. Their uniforms were crisp, but their expressions? Cold. Hard. Watchful.

And they were looking right at me.

My heart slammed into my ribs.

The woman at the counter’s voice shook as she spoke into the phone, eyes never leaving mine.

"There’s a young man here causing trouble."

Trouble?! I wasn’t causing any trouble! I was just trying to leave!

But I saw it then—the way she gripped the phone, the way she looked at me with barely hidden fear.

She wasn’t calling security because she wanted to.

She was calling because she had no choice.

Whatever was watching her—watching all of them—had already decided I wasn’t leaving.

And these guys? These hulking, menacing guards now heading straight for me?

They weren’t here to escort me out nicely.

I could feel it.

Something was deeply wrong.

And I knew, in my gut, that if I fought back—if I made one wrong move—I wouldn’t be walking out of here at all.

So I did the only thing I could.

I threw in the towel.

Swallowed my rage, my panic, my desperation.

And I walked away.

The security guards didn’t follow me, but they didn’t have to. Their presence alone told me the message loud and clear:

I wasn’t going anywhere.

I stepped back into the night, alone, the realization sinking in like a stone in my stomach.

I was stuck.

No way out.

And it was already getting dark.

And now that I knew what lurked in this place after sundown?

Walking outside alone was the last thing I wanted to do.

I had nowhere else to go.

So, gritting my teeth, I turned on my heel—

And started the long, dread-filled walk back to the boarding house.