The mark on Ayla's arm still glowed, burning beneath her skin like fire.
She couldn't stop staring at it.
The crescent moon, wrapped in thorns, pulsed faintly in the darkness as if it had a heartbeat of its own.
"I'm losing my damn mind," she muttered, pulling her sleeve down.
The trees around her whispered in the wind, branches creaking like bones. The forest near the Thorn house was never silent, it had a voice, a rhythm. But tonight… it was different.
She felt watched
Then she heard a crunch behind her
Ayla turned sharply, flashlight raised. "Cassia? Is that you?"
No answer.
"Okay, this is how people die in horror movies," she mumbled, stepping back.
Then a shadow moved. Quick. Powerful. It moved between the trees, too fast to be human.
"Hey!" she shouted. "Who's there?"
Suddenly, a shape dropped from a low branch, landing in front of her. She stumbled back.
"Easy," came a deep voice. "You're jumpy."
"Jesus!" Ayla gasped, holding the flashlight toward him.
A man stepped into the light.
Tall. Dark jacket. Scar cutting across one brow. Hair messy and wind blown, like he belonged to the forest itself. His silver eyes gleamed like a wolf's under the light.
"Who the hell are you?" she snapped, heart hammering.
"I am Rhett Callahan."
"You…. you were at the station. In the fog, I saw you."
He nodded. "I've been watching. Making sure it didn't come back."
"It? What was that?"
His jaw tightened. "A mistake."
"Not an answer."
"No," he said, stepping a little closer, "but it's the truth."
Ayla kept the flashlight aimed at him. "You can't just stalk people through the woods and show up with unclear answers, Rhett."
"I didn't stalk you. I tracked it." His gaze shifted to her arm. "But now it's part of you."
"I didn't ask to be part of anything!"
He raised a brow. "You think that matters? You've been marked. That brand, it's ancient."
"Well, maybe I'll just scrub it off." She rubbed at her arms hard, trying to ignore the burning sensation.
"You can't," he said calmly.
"Wanna bet?"
Rhett took a step closer. "Go ahead. Try. Burn it, cut it, scrub it raw. It won't leave you."
Ayla's throat went dry. "Why?"
"Because it chose you," he said. "And now… so will others."
"Others?" she repeated. "Like what? More giant psycho wolves?"
He gave a humorless laugh. "That wasn't a wolf."
Ayla stared at him. "What was it then?"
He hesitated. "Something old. Something that should've stayed buried."
"Start making sense, or I swear…"
"You're standing on cursed land, Ayla," he interrupted. "Your family's land. This place has history, blood, power, most of which people in town pretend doesn't exist."
"My grandmother never pretended," Ayla said quietly.
"No," Rhett agreed. "She protected the border. Held back what lurked behind it."
Ayla's voice cracked. "She's gone now."
"I know," Rhett said. "And the things beyond the veil? They know too."
The forest cried as wind blew through the trees. Another distant howl rang out but lower than a wolf, closer than before.
Ayla turned slowly. "What is that?"
"Wrong," Rhett said. "That's what it is."
She shivered. "So what? You're gonna help me now? You don't even know me."
"I know enough," he said simply.
"Oh yeah?" She crossed her arms. "What do you think you know?"
"I know you're stubborn, reckless, and probably smarter than everyone in this damn town. I know you don't scare easy, even though you pretend you do. And I know" his voice dropped
"that thing didn't kill you for a reason."
Ayla swallowed. "So what now?"
"Now you listen," he said. "You stop walking into the woods alone. You stop pretending none of this is real. And you come with me."
"To where?"
"To the Pack," he said. "They need to see you."
"Your pack?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Yeah."
"Are they like you?"
He paused. "No. I'm worse."
She blinked. "That is supposed to be comforting?"
"Wasn't trying to comfort you," he said, half-smiling. "Just being honest."
Ayla exhaled slowly. "Let me guess. You want me to play the 'chosen girl' in some werewolf prophecy?"
"No prophecy," he said. "Just a blood debt. And you're tangled in it now."
"You keep saying that. What does it mean?"
Rhett stepped closer, until they were inches apart. "It means everything has a cost. And your grandmother's choices didn't just disappear when she died."
Ayla looked up at him. "So what, you think I'm gonna finish what she started?"
He looked back at her, gaze steady. "I think you already have."
They stood in silence. Just breath, wind, and something ancient stirring in the earth beneath their feet.
Finally, Ayla said, "I'm not ready for this."
"You don't have to be," Rhett replied.
"But I'm scared."
He nodded. "Good. That means you're still human."
She gave a dry laugh. "And you're not?"
Rhett's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Not always."
Ayla looked at his scar, the cold steel in his posture. The way he moved like a predator, controlled, silent, dangerous.
Then she looked down at her arm. The mark pulsed again, this time warm.
"What happens if I come with you?"
"You get answers," Rhett said. "And maybe a way to survive what's coming."
"And if I don't?"
He hesitated. "Then you die. Or worse, become something else."
Ayla stared at him. At the truth he didn't bother to hide.
And for some reason, in that terrifying honesty, she felt safer than she had in days.
She finally spoke. "Okay. I'll come."
Rhett gave a single nod. "Then we move fast. Before the woods wake up again."
As they walked deeper into the trees, Ayla turned to him. "Hey, Rhett?"
"Yeah?"
"You still didn't answer one thing."
"What's that?"
She looked straight ahead. "Why me?"
He was quiet a moment. Then he said, "Because the blood in your veins is older than you think. And it's calling things back."
"Back from where?"
He met her eyes. "From the dark."