03

The storm had subsided at dawn, leaving the sky gray and heavy with unease. The hospital was unusually quiet that morning, but my thoughts were far from calm. The man who had arrived the night before, bearing bite marks I could never mistake, had shattered the fragile illusion of safety I had built around myself.

I forced myself through the day, pretending everything was normal. I finished my shift, reviewing files, attending patients, and engaging in small talk with my colleagues. But inside, my wolf was restless. Every step I took felt watched, every sound seemed amplified. When the day finally ended, I offered Margot, the receptionist, a strained smile as I left the hospital and stepped into the cold twilight.

The streets were eerily quiet as I made my way home. My small house, about fifteen minutes away, sat on the outskirts of town, surrounded by trees. I had chosen it for its isolation, believing it would keep me hidden. But tonight, every shadow seemed larger, and every corner felt like it held a secret.

I kept glancing over my shoulder, certain I was being followed. Yet, every time I turned, there was no one there.

When I reached my house, I locked the door behind me, securing the bolt and checking the windows out of habit. It was something I did every night, but tonight, the act felt insufficient. There was an oppressive stillness in the air, a silence that seemed to press against my skin.

I placed a hand on my swollen belly, seeking reassurance. “We’re safe,” I whispered, more to myself than to the babies I carried. But the words felt hollow, swallowed by the emptiness around me.

Shaking off the feeling, I walked into the kitchen and filled the kettle, focusing on the mundane task of making tea. The sound of water boiling filled the room, its steadiness grounding me momentarily. When the tea was ready, I settled on the sofa, cradling the warm cup in my hands.

I took a sip, letting the heat soothe my nerves. But as the silence returned, the unease crept back.

Then I heard it.

A faint sound coming from the window.

I froze, the cup trembling in my hands. The noise was soft, almost imperceptible—like the rustling of leaves or the scratch of nails against glass.

Slowly, I placed the cup on the table and stood. My heart pounded as I approached the window, each step feeling heavier than the last. The air seemed to thicken around me, and my wolf stirred, alert and uneasy.

When I reached the curtain, I hesitated. My fingers hovered over the fabric, my instincts screaming at me to turn away. But I couldn’t. Something compelled me to look.

With a deep breath, I pulled the curtain aside just enough to see.

And then I saw it.

A large shadow stood at the edge of the dim streetlight, its outline unmistakably lupine. It was massive, its powerful body perfectly still, as though waiting.

But it was the eyes that froze me.

Golden, glowing in the darkness, and fixed directly on me.

My breath caught in my throat. That was no ordinary wolf. I knew exactly who it was.

Kael.

Before I could process what I was seeing, he stepped forward, emerging fully from the shadows. His body was just as large and commanding as I remembered, and his gaze burned through the glass, pinning me in place.

For a moment, I couldn’t move. My heart raced, and my wolf roared inside me, torn between fear and something far more primal.

Then, from the corner of my eye, I caught movement.

Another shadow darted past the side of the house, too fast for me to make out clearly. And then another, this time on the opposite side.

My pulse quickened as realization set in. Kael was not alone.

Footsteps—soft, deliberate—began to echo around the house. The sound grew louder, coming from multiple directions, and my chest tightened. They were surrounding me.

I backed away from the window, my breaths coming in quick, shallow bursts. The tea cup on the table rattled as I stumbled into it, the sound unnervingly loud in the silence.

Then, a deep growl rumbled through the night.

It wasn’t coming from the window.

It was closer.

The sound vibrated through the walls, so low and menacing that it seemed to shake the entire house. My wolf surged forward, ready to fight, but I was alone.

I reached for the phone on the counter, my hands shaking, but when I lifted it, the screen stayed dark. No signal.

Of course.

Another growl came, this time from the back of the house. I spun around, staring at the door that led to the kitchen garden. The door handle jiggled slightly, as if someone—or something—was testing it.

Then, silence.

For a moment, I thought they had gone. That maybe Kael had decided to leave. But then I heard his voice, low and commanding, cutting through the stillness like a blade.

“Ayla,” he called, his tone calm but laced with something dark. “I know you’re in there.”

I froze, my entire body stiffening.

“You can’t hide from me,” he continued, his voice moving closer, as if he were pacing around the house. “You should know that by now.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I clutched my stomach protectively, whispering to the life growing inside me, “I won’t let him take us. I won’t.”

Another growl, this one right outside the front door.

“Open the door, Ayla,” Kael said, his voice sharp now, his patience thinning. “I won’t ask again.”

Silence fell once more, but it was deafening.

Then, the handle of the front door twisted.

Slowly. Deliberately.

Kael was here. And there was no more running.