-Julien Grayson:
I pressed myself against the hard muscle of the person in front of me, chest heaving and legs trembling, trying to make sense of the shadows around me. The forest was unnervingly silent, except for the distant rustle of leaves and my own ragged breathing.
My eyes strained to pierce the darkness, to make out anything familiar, anything alive, but all I could see was the black of night pressed against the black of the trees. I couldn't see him. I didn't know who he was. Deep down there, I hoped he was my dad, but he didn't smell like him nor feel like Pops.
"Wait," I whispered, my voice breaking despite my attempt at calm. "You… you need to get out of here. There's a wolf. He—he killed all our guards. Who are you? Are you one of the guards?"
No answer. My words seemed to vanish into the dense night, swallowed by the forest itself. I blinked rapidly, trying to make out a shape in the shadows, and there it was—a figure, impossibly tall, broad, unmoving. My heart nearly stopped.
All I could see clearly in the faint moonlight was his chest—broad, rippling with muscles that seemed almost carved from stone. The rest of him was swallowed by darkness, his skin a deep, rich brown that gleamed faintly where the light caught it. His hair was long, cascading over his shoulders, black as the night itself. I couldn't see his face clearly. Couldn't see any features. But the presence of him—so vast, so solid—made the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
I swallowed hard, my fingers digging into the bark behind me, and cautiously, almost involuntarily, I took a step backward. My chest constricted, my throat dry. And then, his eyes—those eyes. I looked up, and my breath caught in my throat.
They were red and black with a faint glimmer of silver flickering in the irises, exactly like the wolf's eyes. My stomach dropped, cold and heavy, and I knew in that moment that the wolf had not been alone. That wolf—the one that had torn through my pack's borders—was standing right in front of me, in human form, but every bit as terrifying as he had been in the forest.
I tried to keep my legs moving, to back away slowly, my hands slightly raised in a reflexive attempt at defense. I scanned the figure, taking in more details as my mind scrambled to comprehend him. He was enormous, impossibly so.
At least six foot seven, maybe six foot eight, with a chest so broad it seemed like he could hold me in his arms and never notice the weight. His shoulders were wide, arms thick with muscle that flexed subtly as he shifted his stance.
His torso glimmered faintly with the moonlight, smooth and powerful, bare of any clothing. Only the lower part of his body was obscured, but my eyes didn't dare linger there. Every inch of him radiated danger, power, and something wild that didn't belong to the civilized world I knew.
I could feel my legs shaking under me, and panic surged as I realized I had only one option. The border was blocked—he was standing right there, motionless, a statue of predatory strength. I had no choice but to move away, into the forest, deeper where I could hide among the shadows and trees, anywhere he couldn't reach me immediately. I started walking backward at first, my breath coming in shallow gasps, heart hammering against my ribs like a war drum.
Then, fear overtook caution. I bolted. My boots slipped in the loose leaves and mud, branches whipping against my legs and face, but I didn't care. Every step was fueled by the raw, consuming need to survive.
Behind me, I could feel his presence still. I dared a glance over my shoulder, and he hadn't moved, just watching me with those eyes, unmoving, terrifying. I could almost hear the subtle cracking of the forest under his weight, even from where I was. My chest burned, lungs heaving, and adrenaline turned every muscle taut and unrelenting.
I zigzagged, ducked behind thick trunks, slipped through undergrowth, all the while aware that he could see me, that he could follow, that the wolf I had feared so much in the border guards' area had become this human-shaped nightmare, impossibly fast, impossibly strong, and I was painfully, terrifyingly slow in comparison.
The forest seemed endless, the night cold and oppressive, but I ran anyway, driven by a mixture of fear and instinct. My legs ached, my lungs burned, sweat and blood from earlier scrapes coating my arms and hands, and yet I kept moving, desperate, trying to put as much distance between myself and him as possible. Every so often, I would glance over my shoulder, and there he was—still standing, still watching, patient, as if he didn't even need to chase yet. The horror of it made my stomach turn, but I couldn't stop. I had no choice.
I ran blindly, blindly into the dark forest, branches snapping, leaves rustling, heart pounding in my ears louder than any sound around me. My mind raced with every thought I had ever had about the rogue, about the attacks, about my family, about Pops and Papa and Aurelian. I had never been so terrified, so completely aware of my own mortality. And yet, despite the fear, I forced my legs to keep moving, forced my hands to shield my face from the branches, forced my mind to focus on one thought: survive.
And all the while, I could feel him. His presence was constant, unrelenting, impossibly close even when I was sure I had put dozens of meters between us. I ran, ducked, stumbled, wiped the sweat and grime from my eyes, and kept running, knowing that the moment I slowed, the moment I stopped, I might never get up again. The forest stretched endlessly before me, darkness pressing in from all sides, and somewhere deep inside, I realized with a cold, sinking certainty: I was running out of options, and he—he was still there, waiting.
My legs were shaking so violently that I could barely stand, my knees buckling under me as I stumbled through the undergrowth.
My breaths came in harsh, uneven gasps, each one burning my chest, leaving me lightheaded and dizzy. My body felt like it was giving up—my arms and legs were sore from running and slipping, my hands scraped from branches and leaves, and every muscle screamed in exhaustion.
I was hungry, so desperately hungry, my stomach twisting in knots, and I realized with a sinking, horrible weight that I hadn't eaten anything since the morning. I had skipped breakfast, thinking I'd eat at university, and now the hours of terror, adrenaline, and running had stripped me of any energy left in me.
My mouth was dry, my lips cracked, and my fingers trembled as I fumbled with my phone, trying to turn it on. The screen flickered, then went black. Again. And again. I pressed harder, panic rising like a wave crashing over me, but it wouldn't turn on.
I didn't know where I was anymore. The trees all looked the same in the dim light, their branches clawing at the sky, their shadows blending into one endless black wall. I had lost track of the path, lost track of the borders, lost track of anything that resembled safety.
My legs finally gave way, and I sank to my knees, feeling the cold, damp earth press against me. My tights ripped slightly as I hit the ground, sharp threads grazing my skin, but I barely noticed.
All I could feel was exhaustion and fear and the cold that seemed to seep into my bones, wrapping around me like chains. My breaths came in short, desperate pants, and my vision blurred as tears welled up, mixing with the sweat and grime on my face.
I tried to focus, tried to force my mind to work, tried to figure out which way was back, but the spinning darkness around me made it impossible. I fumbled blindly with my phone, hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe, I could reach Pops.
But the battery was dead. No signal, no light, no way to call anyone. I was utterly alone. My body sagged forward, almost collapsing onto the cold ground, and I felt the world tilt around me, the shadows bending and stretching until they became shapes, then faces, then nothing at all.
My head spun violently, my vision narrowing into a tunnel. Every detail around me melted into blackness and cold, and the last coherent thought I had was that I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have let curiosity and confidence push me into the borders alone. I should have listened to Pops. I should have waited. I should have…
And then I stumbled, my hands slipping on the wet soil, my face almost hitting the ground. My heart was pounding so fast I thought it would explode, every beat echoing in my ears.
And then I saw them. Four black paws, massive and solid, pressed against the earth directly in front of me. I froze, unable to move, unable to breathe, my chest tightening in sheer terror. The paws belonged to something enormous, impossibly powerful, and they radiated a dark, raw energy that made my stomach lurch. My mind went blank, all logic and thought wiped away by the sheer presence of the creature in front of me.
I couldn't see the rest of him yet, couldn't see the body, the face, anything beyond those paws, but that was enough. That was enough to know that I was not just alone. I was trapped. And whatever this wolf—or whatever it truly was—was, it wasn't here to play.
My knees dug into the cold, wet earth as I tried to scramble back, but my limbs were weak, trembling too much to support me. All I could do was stare at the paws, frozen, my mind screaming in a thousand different ways, knowing that the moment I lifted my eyes, the world would change again.