ZANE CALLAHAN
Age: 18 years
Oakendell High's most whispered name — the boy draped in shadows and smoke, with a gaze like stormlight and a mouth made for sin and silence. He walks like a secret and speaks like a warning, his presence enough to still a room... or stir something deeper.
No one really knows him.
They just know of him.
Senior. Chess prodigy. Future king of something no one dares ask about.
They say he doesn't smile. Doesn't flinch. Doesn't feel.
But they're wrong.
He does feel.
He just hides it in the way he watches her — Luna Vale.
The girl with constellations in her voice and a spine made of poetry.
Too soft for this world. Too bright for someone like him.
And maybe that's exactly why he wants her. Not like boys want girls.
No, Zane wants her entirely.
Her words. Her breath. Her obedience.
Every shade of her fear — and every flicker of the fire she thinks she hides so well.
He doesn't play fair. Never learned how. His past taught him power, control, Dominance.
And he learned it all too well.
There are things no one knows — about his mother's lullabies and the grave silence that followed her. About the father whose hands never held, only hardened.
He follows Luna like a shadow that breathes. Watches the tremble in her fingers when she thinks no one sees. He knows her brother's voice leaves bruises deeper than skin — and Zane hates him for it. Hates him in a way that tastes like ash and revenge.
But Luna?
She doesn't hate him yet.
She just doesn't know him.
Not the way she will.
Because Zane Callahan doesn't fall in love.
He claims it.
And Luna Vale?
She was his the moment he first saw her.
Even if she doesn't know it yet.
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LUNA VALE
Age: 16 years
A name that sounds like a whisper — soft, slow, and far too fragile for the world she was born into.
She moves like a secret someone forgot to protect.
Big hazel doe eyes, wide and wondering — like she's still trying to believe in good things. Delicate fingers that tremble when she speaks, but somehow hold the weight of dreams no one ever bothered to listen to.
Luna lives quietly. Too quietly.
In a house filled with silence that screams. With a brother who breaks her without touching, and parents who leave her without ever leaving.
But there's something in her still.
A pulse.
A will.
She clutches her notebook like armor. Speaks like it's the only way she knows how to breathe. She wants to be heard — not because she craves attention, but because no one ever let her finish a sentence. And yet she keeps trying. Keeps writing. Keeps showing up.
Zane sees it.
Every bit of it.
The way she fixes her sleeves when she's anxious. The way bites her lip when nervous. The way she flinches when their eyes meet — but doesn't look away.
She's terrified of him.
But she didn't run.
Not really.
Luna Vale is soft.
But not weak.
She's the kind of girl who survives the fire quietly and still carries a match.
And Zane?
Zane doesn't just want her.
He aches for her.
Not the way people love.
The way they belong.
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