"What are you doing in this territory?"

The boy's voice cut through the deafening rain, a low, hostile growl.

I wiped freezing mud from my cheek. He stood blocking my path in the dense, dark forest. He looked my age, maybe eighteen, with sharp cheekbones and eyes that glowed an unnatural, piercing gold.

"I don't even know where I am!" I shouted over the thunder.

He stepped closer, his expression twisting into a harsh sneer. "You shouldn't be out here. How did a weak thing like you get past the borders?"

I crossed my arms, shivering violently in the downpour. "Then why are *you* here?"

He didn't answer. He lunged forward and grabbed my wrist. His skin burned like a furnace against my freezing flesh.

"Move," he commanded.

"Get off me!" I fought against his grip, but his fingers were like iron.

He dragged me through the wet brush until a rotting wooden cabin appeared in the gloom. He shoved the front door open with his shoulder and pulled me inside, out of the violent storm.

"I'm Owen," he announced, shaking the rainwater from his dark hair. "I'm the Alpha of this pack."

"Pack?" I backed away from him, bumping into a dusty table. "Alpha? What are you talking about?"

Owen tilted his head. He stepped into my space, leaning down until his nose hovered inches from my neck. He inhaled deeply.

"I can smell your scent," he murmured, his tone heavy with disgust. "You must be a regular Omega, right?"

"Omega? What is an Omega?"

Owen scoffed, crossing his arms. "You really don't know?"

"No! I just want to go home!"

"Watch."

He stepped back into the center of the room. A sickening crack echoed through the small cabin. His spine bowed backward at an impossible angle. Thick fur erupted from his skin, tearing through his clothes in seconds. The arrogant, handsome boy vanished.

A massive, terrifying wolf took his place.

The beast snarled, baring teeth the size of kitchen knives.

I scrambled backward and hit the wooden wall. My gaze darted upward in sheer panic. A rusted clock hung crookedly above the doorframe.

The hands pointed exactly to one o'clock.

The wolf lunged at my throat.

Blackness swallowed me.

***

I bolted upright in bed, gasping for air.

The digital numbers on my nightstand glared in the dark room: 5:00 AM.

Sweat soaked my forehead. My pulse hammered in my ears so loudly it drowned out the hum of the air conditioner.

I threw off the blankets and stumbled to the bathroom, splashing freezing water on my face. I stared at my pale reflection in the mirror.

It was just a nightmare.

But my wrist still tingled exactly where Owen had grabbed me.

"Get a grip, Vivian," I whispered to the empty room. "It wasn't real."

I dried my face with a towel, trying to calm my racing heart. Dreams faded. That was the rule. You woke up, and within ten minutes, the details slipped away like sand through your fingers.

But this didn't fade. His name. Owen. The golden eyes. The exact shape of the rusted clock. The bone-snapping sound of his transformation. Every detail remained burned into my brain.

***

The shrill school bell rang, snapping me back to reality.

Lockers slammed in the crowded hallway of Oak Creek High. Students pushed past me, complaining about homework and weekend plans.

"Earth to Vivian."

Lily snapped her fingers right in front of my nose.

"Sorry," I said, shoving my history textbook onto the top shelf of my locker.

"You look like a zombie," Lily noted, leaning against the metal door next to mine. "Did you stay up playing video games again?"

"I had a nightmare."

"About the math midterm?" she joked.

"No. About a boy."

Lily raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on her lips. "A nightmare about a boy? Usually, those are the good dreams."

"He turned into a wolf, Lily."

Her smirk vanished. "Excuse me?"

"We were in a forest. It was pouring rain. He was so incredibly rude to me." I shut my locker with a loud bang. "He asked me why I was in his territory. I asked him why *he* was there. Then he dragged me into an abandoned cabin."

"Okay, weird flex, but go on."

"He told me his name was Owen. He said he was an Alpha." I gripped the strap of my backpack, my knuckles turning white. "He smelled my neck and called me an Omega. Then his bones broke, and he turned into a giant monster."

Lily burst out laughing.

"It's not funny!" I hissed, checking the hallway to make sure no one was listening.

"Vivian, listen to yourself. Alphas? Omegas? Giant wolves?" Lily shook her head, her blonde ponytail swinging. "You've been watching too many horror movies."

"It didn't feel like a movie. It felt real. I can still see his face perfectly."

"It's just a dream," she insisted, linking her arm through mine as we walked down the hall. "Don't overthink it."

"But what if it means something?"

"It means you need more sleep." Lily rolled her eyes playfully. "Werewolves don't exist in the real world. Have you ever seen a guy turn into a dog?"

"A wolf."

"Whatever. Dog, wolf, same thing. They aren't real."

"I know," I muttered, though my stomach remained tied in knots.

"Exactly. Have you ever seen a werewolf walking down Main Street?"

"No."

"Have you ever met anyone named Owen with glowing eyes?"

"No."

"Case closed. So stop stressing. We have real problems to worry about, like passing Mr. Miller's class."

I forced a nod. "You're right."

"Of course I am." Lily smiled. "Now hurry up, or we'll lose our seats in the back row."

We hurried into the classroom just as the final bell chimed. I dropped into my seat next to the window, pulling out a notebook. I tried to focus on the whiteboard, but my pen moved on its own, sketching a round circle. I drew a twelve at the top. A six at the bottom.

Lily leaned over my desk. "What are you drawing?"

"The clock from the cabin."

"You're obsessed."

"I'm telling you, I've never had a dream this vivid."

"Tell me about this Owen guy, then," Lily whispered, keeping her voice low as Mr. Miller walked to the front of the room. "Was he hot, at least?"

"Lily! He was a monster."

"Before he turned into a monster. You said he looked our age."

"He had dark hair. Golden eyes."

"Golden eyes? Like contacts?"

"No, like they glowed in the dark."

"Spooky." She popped a piece of gum into her mouth. "Maybe he's a manifestation of your subconscious desire for danger."

"I don't desire danger. I like being boring."

"You are pretty boring," she agreed, grinning.

"Thanks."

"I'm just saying, don't let a stupid nightmare ruin your day."

"I'll try."

Mr. Miller clapped his hands together, silencing the room. "Alright, everyone, settle down. Before we start on chapter four, we have a new transfer student joining us today."

My pen stopped moving.

A boy walked through the classroom door.

He wore a dark jacket, rain dripping from his broad shoulders. Dark hair framed a face with sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline.

My heart stopped.

He turned to face the class.

His eyes were a piercing, unnatural gold.

"Introduce yourself to the class," Mr. Miller prompted.

The boy scanned the room. His gaze locked onto mine, and a familiar sneer pulled at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm Owen," he said.

His voice was the exact same low growl from my nightmare.

"You again?" I shrieked, scrambling backward across the dusty floorboards.

The rotting wooden cabin looked exactly the same. The heavy rain battered the roof, a relentless drumming that rattled my teeth. I sat in the exact spot I had been yesterday. The same gloom, the same chill.

Owen sat across from me, leaning against the far wall. He didn't look like a monster right now. He looked like the boy who had just transferred to my history class. But his eyes—that unnatural, piercing gold—fixed on me with a mixture of annoyance and boredom.

"Don't look at me like that," he muttered, rolling his broad shoulders. "I don't know why we're back here either."

"This is a nightmare," I said, my voice trembling. I pushed myself up, ignoring the burning ache in my muscles. "I'm waking up right now."

"Sit down," he snapped.

"No!" I spun toward the heavy oak door. "I'm not staying in a room with a monster."

Owen pushed off the wall, his boots thudding against the floor. "You can't go out there. There are Rogues."

"Rogues?" I grabbed the rusted iron handle. "I don't care about your imaginary words. This is my dream, and I'm leaving."

"Are you deaf?" His hand slammed flat against the wood, inches from my fingers, pinning the door shut. The heat radiating off his skin felt suffocating. "A Rogue will rip your throat out before you make it ten yards."

I glared up at him. "It's a dream, Owen. Nothing out there can actually hurt me."

"You're an Omega. You smell like prey. If you step outside, you die."

"Good!" I yanked the door open, slipping under his arm. The freezing rain hit me instantly, soaking my pajamas. "If I die in the dream, I wake up!"

"You're out of your mind!" he shouted from the doorway.

I didn't stop. I ran into the dark, dense forest, my bare feet slipping in the thick mud. The cold bit into my skin. I heard a low, guttural howl echo through the trees to my left.

Perfect.

I changed direction, sprinting straight toward the sound.

"Stop!" Owen's voice cracked through the storm, closer now. He was chasing me. "Do you want to get yourself killed?"

"Yes!" I yelled back over my shoulder. I stumbled over a thick tree root and kept going. "Just let me die so I can go home!"

"You're impossible!" he roared. "Go ahead, then! See what happens!"

A massive shadow detached itself from the trees ahead.

It wasn't a normal animal. It was huge, covered in matted gray fur, with yellow eyes that locked onto me like a target. Saliva dripped from jaws lined with jagged, yellowed teeth. The Rogue.

It didn't hesitate. It lunged.

I braced myself for the impact, squeezing my eyes shut. *Wake up, wake up, wake up.*

The beast slammed into my chest. The force threw me backward, my head cracking against a jagged rock. Pain exploded through my skull, sharp and blinding. Claws tore into my shoulder, shredding fabric and skin. I screamed, a raw, tearing sound that ripped from my throat.

The pain was real. It burned like fire.

Why wasn't I waking up?

The Rogue snapped its jaws inches from my face. Its foul breath choked me.

A heavy weight slammed into the beast, knocking it off me.

I gasped for air, clutching my bleeding shoulder. Through the pouring rain, I saw Owen. He hadn't shifted into a wolf. He fought the Rogue in his human form, his fists striking with brutal, terrifying force. He caught the beast by the throat, his muscles straining, and slammed its head against a tree trunk until it went limp.

He dropped the carcass and turned to me, his chest heaving. Blood streaked his face.

"Still think it's a dream?" he snarled, marching over and hauling me to my feet.

I cried out as fire shot down my arm. "Why am I still here? It hurts!"

He didn't answer. He threw my good arm over his shoulder and dragged me back through the mud, half-carrying me toward the cabin. Every step sent fresh waves of agony through my body.

He kicked the cabin door shut behind us and deposited me onto a ragged armchair.

"Why didn't I wake up?" I sobbed, pressing my hand against my torn shoulder. Blood seeped between my fingers.

Owen crouched in front of me. He pulled a small, battered tin box from his jacket pocket. "Because you're stupid."

"You said I'd die!"

"I said a Rogue would kill you. I didn't say it would be quick." He popped the tin open, extracting a wad of gauze and a foul-smelling paste. "Hold still."

"Get away from me!" I shoved his chest, but he didn't budge.

"I just saved your life. Let me fix your arm before you bleed out."

"It's a dream!" I screamed, tears mixing with the rain on my face. "I'm asleep in my bed!"

"Then why are you bleeding?" He grabbed my wrist, pulling my hand away from the wound. He smeared the paste over the deep scratches.

I bit my lip to keep from screaming again. The paste stung, but a strange, numbing cold quickly followed.

"Who are you?" I whispered, my voice breaking.

Owen kept his eyes on my shoulder, wrapping the gauze tight. "I told you yesterday. I'm the Alpha."

"But you're in my history class."

He finally looked up, his golden eyes locking onto mine. "I'm exactly where I need to be."

My vision blurred. The pain in my head throbbed, beating in time with my racing heart. I looked past him, up at the wall.

The rusted clock hung crookedly above the doorframe.

The minute hand clicked.

One o'clock.

Blackness swallowed me.

***

I bolted upright in bed, gasping for air.

The digital numbers on my nightstand glared: 5:00 AM.

My pulse hammered in my ears. I threw the blankets off and swung my legs over the edge of the mattress. My shoulder throbbed.

I reached up, my fingers brushing my skin.

I winced.

I stumbled to the bathroom and flicked on the harsh overhead light. I turned sideways, inspecting my shoulder in the mirror.

There was no blood. No torn flesh. No gauze.

But beneath the surface of my skin, a deep, angry red bruise blossomed exactly where the Rogue's claws had struck.

I pressed two fingers to my forehead. A sharp ache flared instantly, right where I had hit the rock.

"It's not real," I whispered, staring at my pale reflection. "It's just a dream."

But the pain was real. I could feel every invisible wound.

***

"You look worse than yesterday."

Lily slammed her locker shut, nearly catching my fingers.

"Thanks," I muttered, leaning against the metal row. My entire body ached. Walking down the hallway felt like wading through wet cement. Every time a student bumped my shoulder, I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop from crying out.

"Did you have another nightmare?" she asked, falling into step beside me as we headed toward first period.

"Yes." I rubbed my forehead, trying to ease the pounding headache. "It was the same cabin. The same boy. Owen."

"The hot transfer student?" Lily grinned. "Okay, now you're just writing fanfiction in your sleep."

"It's not funny, Lily. I ran out of the cabin, and this... this monster attacked me. A Rogue."

"A what?"

"A giant wolf. It tackled me. I hit my head on a rock, and it clawed my shoulder." I stopped walking, turning to face her. "Owen fought it off and patched me up."

Lily sighed, shifting her backpack on her shoulder. "Vivian, you're stressing yourself out over nothing. You probably slept on your arm wrong."

"I didn't sleep on it wrong! Look!" I pulled the collar of my shirt down, exposing my shoulder.

Lily leaned in, her brow furrowing. "Look at what?"

"The bruise!"

"Vivian, there's nothing there."

I stared at her, then looked down at my own skin.

She was right. The angry red mark I had seen in the bathroom mirror was gone. My skin was completely clear.

"But it hurts," I insisted, pressing my hand against the spot. "I can feel it."

"You're imagining things," Lily said gently, linking her arm through my good one. "Mr. Miller assigned three chapters of reading last night. You're just exhausted. You need to stop watching sci-fi movies before bed."

"I don't watch sci-fi movies."

"Well, whatever you're doing, stop." She pulled me toward the classroom. "Dreams can't hurt you."

I let her drag me into the room, but my stomach twisted into tight knots. She didn't understand. She couldn't feel the phantom claws tearing into her flesh.

I dropped into my seat by the window. I didn't pull out my notebook. I didn't try to draw the clock.

I stared at the front of the room.

The door opened.

Owen walked in. He wore the same dark jacket. He didn't look tired. He didn't look like he had spent the night fighting a giant wolf in a freezing rainstorm.

He walked down the aisle, stopping right beside my desk.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat.

He leaned down, his face inches from mine.

"How's the shoulder?" he whispered.

The rest of the school day passed in a blur of paranoia. I avoided Owen in the halls, bolted out the front doors at the final bell, and hid in my bedroom until the sun went down. Exhaustion finally dragged me under.

My eyes snapped open. The heavy scent of damp wood and rain hit my nose.

I sat in the ragged armchair. The storm still raged outside, rattling the thin glass of the cabin windows.

Owen crouched right in front of me. His fingers hovered over my torn shoulder, holding the battered tin box of paste. He hadn't moved an inch. It was the exact position we were in when the clock struck one the night before. Like a paused video game.

"Have you been waiting here this whole time?" I blurted out.

Owen blinked, lowering his hands. "No. I just fell asleep in my dorm."

"So it resumes right where it left off."

"Looks like it." He scooped a fresh glob of the foul-smelling medicine and pressed it to my skin.

I winced, gripping the armrest. "I thought you were done."

"Almost." He wiped his fingers on his dark jeans. "What's your full name?"

"Vivian. Vivian Miller." I watched his jaw clench. "Why?"

"Because if we're stuck in this shared hallucination, I need to know who I'm dealing with. I'm eighteen. I graduate next month."

"From Oak Creek High?" I challenged. "Because you just transferred there."

Owen shook his head, leaning back on his heels. "Oak Creek is my cover. My real school is an academy for our kind. Everyone there shifts."

"Into wolves."

"Yes." He crossed his arms, his golden eyes scanning my face. "It's a strict hierarchy. Alphas lead. Betas enforce. Omegas serve. If you went there, you'd be at the absolute bottom. An Omega who can't even shift? You'd be a joke."

I shoved myself out of the chair, ignoring the dull throb in my shoulder. "You think you're so superior."

"I'm an Alpha."

"You're a freak!" I shouted, pointing a finger at his chest. "If you turned into a giant, hairy beast in the middle of Oak Creek High, nobody would bow to you. They'd call animal control. You'd be isolated. A monster."

Owen stood up. He towered over me, his expression twisting into a harsh sneer. He stepped into my space, casting a long shadow over my face.

"Watch your mouth, Vivian."

"Or what? You'll bite me?"

His hands curled into fists at his sides. The air between us grew thick and hot. I refused to back down, lifting my chin to maintain eye contact.

"Enough," he snapped, turning his back to me. He paced toward the dusty table. "Fighting wastes energy. We need to figure out why this is happening."

"Do you have any brilliant Alpha ideas?"

"I know how we get out," he said, tapping the wooden surface. He pointed up at the rusted clock above the doorframe. "I watched it last night. The second the minute hand hits the twelve, the dream ends."

I followed his gaze. The hands read 12:45.

"One o'clock," I murmured.

"Exactly. We just have to survive until one."

"There's no Rogue outside tonight," I noted, listening to the relentless rain.

"Then we sit here and wait."

I sank back into the armchair. Owen leaned against the opposite wall. Neither of us spoke. The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable, broken only by the ticking clock.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The minute hand clicked onto the twelve.

The cabin dissolved into absolute blackness.

***

I woke up staring at my bedroom ceiling. My alarm blared. 5:00 AM.

I threw off the covers and marched straight downstairs. My parents sat at the kitchen island, sipping coffee.

"Mom. Dad. I need to see a doctor."

My mother set her mug down, her brow furrowing. "Vivian? Are you sick?"

"I need a psychiatrist," I stated, pulling out a stool. "I'm having recurring nightmares. Shared nightmares. I think I'm losing my mind."

My father exchanged a worried glance with her. "Shared with who?"

"A boy from school. It's too real. I feel the pain when I wake up."

By three o'clock that afternoon, I sat on a leather couch in a sterile, white office. Dr. Aris clicked his pen, adjusting his silver glasses.

"High school is a demanding environment, Vivian," he said in a calm, practiced tone. "Transfer students can disrupt the social dynamic. Your brain is translating that daytime stress into a nighttime narrative."

"He turns into a wolf, Dr. Aris. He patches up my wounds."

"Classic anxiety manifestation. The wolf represents your fear of the unknown. The healing represents your desire for control." He scribbled on a prescription pad and tore off the sheet. "Take one of these before bed. It will suppress the REM cycle. No dreams."

I took the paper. "Thank you."

***

The pills didn't work.

That night, I opened my eyes to the same damp cabin, the same endless storm, the same golden-eyed boy.

"Medicine didn't help?" Owen asked, smirking from his spot against the wall.

"Shut up."

We fell into a bizarre routine. Every night, I took the doctor's pill. Every night, I woke up in the cabin. We didn't try to leave. We didn't fight the Rogues. We just sat on opposite sides of the room and waited for the clock to strike one.

"Do you ever get tired of the rain?" I asked on Thursday, staring out the grime-covered window.

"It washes away the scent of predators," Owen replied, sharpening a piece of broken wood with a pocketknife. "I prefer it."

"You prefer sitting in a rotting box?"

"I prefer not getting eaten."

By Sunday, the fear had faded into sheer boredom. A full week of sitting in the dark, waiting for the clock to save us.

"Do you think we'll be doing this when we're eighty?" I asked, tracing a circle in the dust on the armrest.

Owen sat on the floor, tossing a small pebble into the air and catching it. "I'll be an Alpha running a territory. I won't have time to sit in a cabin with a human."

"I'm not human, remember? I'm an Omega."

He caught the pebble and held it tight. "You don't act like one."

"I'll take that as a compliment." I glanced up at the rusted clock. The hands read 12:59. "Well, time to go back to reality. See you in history class."

"Don't copy my notes tomorrow," he warned playfully.

The minute hand ticked forward.

It hit the twelve. One o'clock.

I closed my eyes, waiting for the familiar plunge into darkness. I braced myself for the blast of my 5:00 AM alarm.

Nothing happened.

The heavy rain continued to drum against the roof. The cold draft swept across my ankles, raising goosebumps on my skin.

I opened my eyes.

I was still sitting in the armchair.

Owen was still sitting on the floor.

He stared at the clock, his posture completely rigid. The pebble slipped from his fingers and clattered against the wooden boards.

"Owen?" My voice trembled.

The minute hand ticked past the twelve. 1:01.

We didn't wake up.