Howling to the Heart || Isaac Lahey

78.

Not even a few seconds later, Neriah was rushing out of class, ignoring her concerned teacher asking her where she was going. Scott debated getting up and following after her with Stiles, but the pair shared a look before pulling out their phones, filling in Allison, Lydia, and Isaac of what their best friend had just said.

Neriah rushed down the empty hallway, using her heighten sense of smell to pull her feet toward the scent. If she didn't remember her mother's scent, then she was sure she would have never known there was another hybrid in the school. Anxiety prickled her skin when she slowed down outside of the locker room, the smell so strong it was choking her slowly.

The door creaked and the room was empty with only the light from outside spewing in through the windows. Part of her didn't want to go in, but another part of her was curious. The only other hybrid she knew of was her mother, but she hadn't found out until a year ago. With light footsteps and her body on high alert, she cautiously walked into the locker room.

"Neriah Hale," a deep voice drawled with a thick British accent.

Her heart dropped for a second as she looked around in a circle, her eyes darting between lockers. Until they landed on a boy her age, leaning against one of the sinks with a small smirk on his face.

"I've been looking for you," the unnamed boy drawled, pushing off the sink and stepping into the light to show his dark brown hair and eyes. A deep pale scar ran down across his right eye, standing out the most. "You found me because of my scent, didn't you?"

"Who the hell are you?" she asked firmly, squaring her shoulders. This boy she had never met before or even seen, but something about him screamed at her to run the other way. "You need to leave."

"Do I now?" he tsked, slowly walking toward her with a predatory gaze. But Neriah didn't flinch from that gaze—she only rooted her feet into the ground while flexing out her class. That made the boy stop with a sinister smile. "Is that any way to greet an old friend?"

That knocked her down by five levels. Who was this boy and how was he, her friend? A scar like that would've been easy to remember, yet she couldn't even remember his face.

"A friend?" she scoffed. "I've never even seen you before."

"Oh, come on," he drawled slowly, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger, nothing but mischief in his eyes. "How could you not remember dear old Ryker?"

One by one, memories that we deeply buried in the back of her mind started to open at just the name.

Ryker. Ryker. Ryker.

"Ryker Mikaelson," Neriah breathed, her eyes snapping up to the boy with realisation. "B-But you died," she whispered.

Ryker smirked once again, tilting his head at her while he took a step back, dropping the lock of her hair that bounced.

"Obviously I'm still alive." Like the predatory gaze he held, he slowly circled her, taking in how much she had grown since they were children. "I was wondering when you would transition."

Neriah couldn't speak, couldn't move. Ryker had been one of the closest friends she had growing up, until the Hale fire where he supposedly died. The memories of him used to scar her, so she had locked them away in a box at the back of her mind, along with his name. It was always too painful for her to remember. But now—now she could remember because he was alive and standing before her.

"I was sent here," Ryker informed her, taking her bag from her before throwing it over his shoulder. "We have work to do, so get on your bike and follow me."

Neriah's brows furrowed, her lips thinning as he walked out of the locker room. What work did they needed to do? How was he alive? Where had he been all this time? Were there others like them in Beacon Hills? How had she not known he was a hybrid? All the unanswered questioned got her feet moving, following after him.