The Red Eyed Rogue

chapter 1

*Rowan's P.O.V*

I woke up to the sun shining through the circular window and my phone blaring We Will Rock You. Weird song for an alarm, I know, but it does the job. Groaning, I turned it off and dragged myself off the mattress.

My room was... messy, to say the least, but that's how I liked it. Easier to find my stuff that way. The mattress was pushed into one corner, while a shelf full of books stood against the opposite wall. Beside the bed was a small study desk cluttered with one big computer and two smaller laptops. By the door was a closet stuffed with clothes in a gradient from white to black.

Now, at first glance, you'd probably think I'm some brooding bad boy. You know, the type who's done all the illegal things, only wears black, and has a body covered in tattoos. Maybe I ride a sick bike, break rules just for fun, and dabble in smoking or drugs. But nope.

The black clothes? They're practical—good for hiding at night—and I do own a few red and blue pieces, thank you very much. Tattoos? Sure, but it's not a body full—just my left arm, the right side of my chest, and part of my back. The bike? Yeah, I have one, but that's because I travel a lot. As for drugs and smoking? Tried smoking once. Couldn't stand the smell. And drugs? Nah, not really my thing—not that it would do much to a werewolf anyway. I don't intentionally break rules, but I'm a teenager, so let's be honest, I don't exactly follow them either.

Plus, I live alone. No parents, no rules, and technically no pack laws either. I'm a "rogue." The one thing I do indulge in? Drinking. But then again, what supernatural teenager doesn't?

I checked my phone. 7:48 a.m. Huh, I was up early for a change. Pulling on black skinny jeans and a white top that hung loose on my frame, I looked in the mirror. Most people would call me lean, not buff. Thanks to werewolf genes, I had some muscle definition—enough to not look like a stick.

I wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge, only to find two eggs and a bottle of milk. Sighing, I grabbed them. I poured instant coffee powder straight into the milk bottle and shook it up. Yeah, I drink my coffee cold. I hate hot drinks—hot chocolate included.

After cooking a quick omelet with the two eggs, I chugged down half the bottle of coffee. Probably too much caffeine for a normal person, but for a werewolf, it takes a lot more to feel the effects.

Leaning against the kitchen island, I stared blankly at the fridge. A piece of paper stuck there caught my eye. Pulling it off, I realized it was a school sign-up form—with my name on it. Flipping it over, I found a sticky note in familiar handwriting:

"Dear Boy,
I know you told me you hate school and don't like being around people, but it's just sad to see such a young soul wasting his life. So, without your permission—yes, without—I told the school you'd be coming back for your final year, even though you said no.
Also, if you don't go, you know I've always wanted to burn that bike of yours.
You can thank me later. :) <3
–The only Luna you love."

I groaned, crumpling the note into a ball and tossing it over my shoulder. "I so wish I'd left that old hag to die," I muttered under my breath.

Looking back at the form, I saw the start time: 8:30 a.m. Checking the clock again, it was already 8:10 a.m. Guess I'd better get going if I wanted to make it on time.

I dumped my empty plate and the milk bottle in the sink, grabbed my leather jacket, and snatched my bike keys. Stepping outside, I swung my leg over my Harley Fat Boy and fired up the engine.

"Atrephia Academy of Paranormals, here I come," I muttered as I drove off toward the school.