Dark Woods

Chapter 1

Jasmine POV

BANG BANG BANG

I jolt awake, my heart still racing from the nightmare's grip. The images cling to me like smoke—those crimson eyes, the metallic scent of blood, the terror that felt way too real to be just a dream. My skin's damp with sweat, and I can still hear that menacing growl echoing in my head. The sheets are twisted around my legs like restraints, and for a second, I'm still trapped in that dark forest, unable to move or scream.

I spring from bed, only to slip on something scattered across the floor and crash down hard. Books and clothes from last night's outfit selection are everywhere—evidence of my total indecision about starting senior year.

"Jasmine! Wake up! Mom said you're gonna be late for school," Daisy's voice carries through the door, bright and cheerful in that way that makes me wanna throw a pillow at her. "Oh, and if you want breakfast, you'd better hurry—Jake's already on his second plate."

Groaning, I pull myself to my feet and collapse back onto my bed. What the hell was that? Relief washes over me that it was only a dream, but these nightmares have been messing with me for the past month. None have ever felt so vivid or so scary. The whole thing leaves me shaken, and I can't shake this feeling that it's just the beginning of something way worse.

The dream was so different from the others. Usually, they're just fragments—flashes of darkness, sounds of running, glimpses of something chasing me. But this one felt complete, like watching a horror movie starring me. I could still feel how cold the air was, smell those pine trees, taste the metallic tang of blood. My hands unconsciously rub together, and for a moment, I swear I can feel dried blood on my knuckles.

I glance at the clock on my nightstand. 7:15 AM. s**t. If I don't get moving soon, I'll be late, and the last thing I need is to draw attention on the first day. Junior year's supposed to be my year to fly under the radar, focus on sports and college apps, and avoid all the supernatural drama that follows the pack hierarchy everywhere.

"Honey, what're you still doing in bed?" Mom appears in the doorway, a basket of clean clothes balanced on her hip. Her auburn hair's pulled back in a neat bun, and I can see the worry on her face as she takes in how messy I look. "Come on, sweetheart. Get ready for school. Your father's leaving in fifteen minutes for his meeting, and Jake and Daisy'll be heading out soon too." She puts several items on my dresser and gives me that look.

"Just a shitty dream," I mumble, though the words don't even come close to describing how terrified I was.

Mom's expression softens. As the pack healer, she's seen plenty of people with sleep troubles and anxiety. Her gift lets her sense when something's wrong, and I can see the worry in her green eyes as she studies my face.

"The same ones you've been having?" she asks gently.

I nod, not trusting my voice. She sits on the edge of my bed, her warm hand finding my forehead to check for fever—total mom move that always makes me feel better.

"Maybe we should talk to your father about having you see Dr. Winters," she suggests. Dr. Winters is the pack's counselor who specializes in supernatural psychology stuff. "These dreams seem to be getting worse."

"I'm fine, Mom. Really." I force a smile, though we both know I'm far from fine. "It's probably just stress about senior year starting."

She doesn't look convinced, but she doesn't push. That's one thing I love about my mom—she knows when to back off. "Alright, but promise me you'll tell me if they get worse."

"I promise."

The smell of bacon and fresh coffee drifts up from the kitchen—normally comforting scents that today only remind me of that metallic smell from my dream. I shake my head, trying to get rid of the lingering creepiness.

With a resigned sigh, I force myself up and start getting ready for the day. School's the last thing on my mind—that disturbing dream has left me with this dread I can't shake.

I stumble into my bathroom and splash cold water on my face, hoping it'll help clear the fog from my head. My reflection stares back at me, and I can see how exhausted I look. Dark circles under my blue eyes, evidence of too many sleepless nights. My black hair's a tangled mess from tossing and turning.

After a quick shower that does nothing to wash away the lingering unease, I stand in front of my closet trying to figure out what to wear. It's such a normal, boring decision, but after how intense my dream was, I'm grateful for something ordinary.

As I pack my duffel bag with sports equipment and textbooks, I catch my reflection in the mirror. At five-foot-eight, I look pretty good. Long, silky black hair cascades past my shoulders in loose waves, and my piercing blue eyes have this sharpness that most people find either hot or intimidating. High cheekbones and full lips give me the kind of striking features that make people stare, though I've never been comfortable with the attention. Years of intense pack training and captaining multiple sports teams have given me a lean, athletic build.

Despite my casual approach to fashion, I can't deny that I got lucky in the genetics department. Armstrong women have always been known for being beautiful, though Daisy got the sweet, approachable version while I got the more intimidating kind. It's both awesome and annoying—useful for establishing dominance in pack hierarchy, but exhausting when dealing with horny teenage boys.

I choose high-waisted black jeans and a plain white long-sleeved crop top, keeping my makeup minimal. Comfortable and casual—I've never been one to get all dressed up for school. Today especially, I wanna blend in, not stand out.

After throwing on my jacket, I head downstairs to find my family around the breakfast table doing their usual morning thing. The kitchen smells like bacon and fresh coffee, and normally those familiar scents would make me feel better. Today, they only remind me of that metallic smell from my dream.

I'm the second daughter of Beta Ethan Armstrong of the Winter Moon Pack, while my mom Alexandria's the pack's healer. I've always felt lucky to have such loving, supportive parents. Though my dad's got this reputation for being stern and uncompromising that scares most pack members, I've never seen that harsh side of him. He's always treated me gently, even when I needed discipline. My mom, however, has strict standards about my education and my tendency to get into fights. Trouble follows me around, usually not my fault. Despite being firm with me, Alexandria shows her love every day.

My dad looks up from his newspaper as I walk in, his dark eyes immediately checking my mood. Beta instincts, I guess—he can read pack members like open books. Dark hair with some gray frames his strong face, and the lines around his eyes show years of leadership and responsibility.

"Rough night, sweetheart?" he asks, folding his paper and giving me his full attention.

"Just couldn't sleep," I lie smoothly, settling into my usual chair. The last thing I need is both parents freaking out about my dreams.

The breakfast table's set with Mom's usual precision—real plates instead of paper ones, cloth napkins, orange juice in actual glasses. She believes in starting the day right, even when we're all rushing around getting ready for school and work.

My older sister Daisy graduated college and now lives with her mate, Jackson Smith, in the Crescent Moon Pack. Daisy found Jackson at a college party, and their bond was instant. The way she describes it, it was like getting struck by lightning—everything just clicked the moment they looked at each other. Jackson's become a full member of the Armstrong family now, embraced by my parents as the son they never had.

I, however, took way longer to accept him. My protective instincts toward Daisy run deep—despite being the younger sister, I feel responsible for protecting her from the world's nastier realities. Daisy's got this gentle spirit, trusting nature, and total belief that everyone's good deep down. She sees the best in everyone, sometimes when she shouldn't. She needs protection, and I needed to make sure Jackson would give it to her. Only after Jackson proved himself over and over—standing up to pack bullies, supporting her through college stress, treating her like she's precious—did I finally chill out and welcome him into our family.

"Hey, sleepyhead, come join us," Jackson calls out with a warm smile. His sandy brown hair's still messy from sleep, and he's already dressed in his Crescent Moon Pack training gear. The dark blue fabric brings out his hazel eyes, and I can see why Daisy fell for him so hard.

"Join what? You've already eaten everything—there's not even crumbs left for the ants," I say, noting his empty plate and the crumbs scattered around his spot.

"I told you to hurry if you wanted breakfast, but you didn't listen," Daisy replies, her smile softening the dig. She's glowing this morning, happiness radiating from her like sunlight. Being mated clearly agrees with her. Her blonde hair catches the morning light streaming through the kitchen window, and her green eyes—just like Mom's—sparkle with contentment.

"It's fine. Dad said he'd grab me something on the way to school." I turn toward my father with an innocent smile that's gotten me out of countless punishments over the years.

He shakes his head, unable to hide his own smile. Despite his reputation as the pack's enforcer, Dad's always been a softie when it comes to his daughters. "Alright then, we'd better leave now, or the Alpha will have my head if I'm late."

I hug both Daisy and Jackson, wishing them safe travels to Crescent Moon Pack. Jackson wraps me in one of his bear hugs, and I let myself relax for just a moment. Despite my initial issues with him, he's proven to be exactly what Daisy needed—gentle, protective, and completely devoted to making her happy.

"Take care of yourself, little wolf," he murmurs against my hair. It's his nickname for me, born from our sparring sessions where I proved I could hold my own against him despite being smaller and not having my wolf yet.

"Always do," I reply, though we both know that's not totally true.

After kissing my mom goodbye and promising again to tell her if the dreams get worse, I follow my dad out the door for my first day back at school. The morning air's crisp, carrying the scent of pine and approaching autumn. It should be refreshing, but instead it reminds me of the forest from my dream.

"Thanks for breakfast and the ride, Dad," I say as he pulls into the school parking lot. His truck's one of the nicer vehicles in the lot, but not flashy—Dad doesn't believe in showing off pack wealth around humans.

I hug him goodbye before getting out of the car and waving as he drives away. Then I turn to face the place I've been stuck attending for the past two years.

Northwood High houses three werewolf packs—Winter Moon, Howling Moon, and Black Eclipse. The alliance formed through past battles, their Alphas war veterans who fought supernatural threats together. My dad often tells stories of those days, when vampires were a real threat and the packs had to team up to survive. Human students have no clue that many of their classmates can turn into wolves, which creates this tense atmosphere. With territorial disputes, supernatural hierarchies, and regular teenage drama, Northwood's ready to explode at any moment.

The school building looms in front of me, this massive complex of brick and glass that houses almost two thousand students. To human eyes, it probably looks like any other high school. But I can sense the underlying currents of supernatural energy flowing through its halls—the territorial markers, the pack boundaries, the constant undercurrent of dominance and submission that governs werewolf society.

Another year in Northwood hell. Goddess, give me strength, I think with a weary sigh.

Students are still hanging out outside Northwood, enjoying the morning sun before the bell rings. I can immediately tell the different pack members apart by their scents and how they cluster together. Winter Moon students hang toward the east entrance, while Howling Moon claims the west side. Black Eclipse, always the most aggressive pack, dominates the front steps. Humans weave between the groups, totally clueless about the supernatural politics happening around them.

I grab my books from my locker and get ready for another day in supernatural-human hell. My first class is Advanced Literature with Mrs. Henderson, a human teacher who has no idea that half her students could rip her throat out without breaking a sweat. The irony isn't lost on me as we discuss symbolism in classic horror novels.

The morning passes in a blur of familiar faces and routine interactions. I take notes, participate in discussions, and pretend everything's normal. But the dream lingers at the edges of my mind, this dark shadow that won't go away.

By lunch, I've survived three classes and claimed my usual table with Sarah Deacon. We've been inseparable since kindergarten—one of those instant friendships that clicks on day one and never wavers. Sarah draws attention wherever she goes with her platinum blonde hair, emerald eyes, and curves that make even the supernatural boys do double-takes. She's outgoing, flirty, and totally comfortable being the center of attention—everything I'm not.

"You look like s**t," Sarah observes as I sit down, her green eyes studying my face with concern. "Another nightmare?"

I nod, not bothering to deny it. Sarah knows me too well for lies to work. "This one was different. More vivid. More... real."

"Maybe you should talk to someone about them. They're getting worse."

Before I can respond, our conversation gets interrupted by our third musketeer showing up.

"Girls, you have to see this." Kylie Black approaches our table with the kind of effortless grace that makes other girls hate her on sight. She's stunning in a way that seems totally unfair—rich chestnut hair that catches the light, warm brown eyes, and the kind of bone structure that belongs on magazine covers. She was the final addition to our trio back in junior high, the brilliant beauty who can solve calculus problems and plan the perfect party with equal ease. Where Sarah commands attention with bold confidence, Kylie's appeal is more subtle—devastating smiles paired with razor-sharp intelligence and family money that never feels show-offy.

Three's my limit. I've never been good with crowds or small talk, preferring the comfort of a tight circle I can actually trust. Daisy had always been the social butterfly of the Armstrong sisters—collecting friends like flowers while I built walls.

"Look what Jamison sent me." Kylie flips her phone toward us, showing off a sleek party invitation for Saturday night. The design's elegant, all black and gold lettering that screams expensive.

"We have to go! Perfect way to kick off senior year." Her eyes light up with mischief, and I can practically see the wheels turning in her head. Kylie loves a good party, especially one where she can show off her social skills.

Sarah doesn't hesitate. "Count me in. I desperately need an escape from my family." She turns expectant eyes on me. "Please tell me you're coming."

I grimace. "I'm still grounded from the last party disaster, and tryouts are next week. I can't afford any distractions."

The "last party disaster" involved a confrontation with some Black Eclipse wolves who thought they could intimidate a Winter Moon beta's daughter. They learned otherwise, but not before I gave them a few bruises to remember me by. My parents were not amused.

"Jaz, you're practically guaranteed a spot on every team you want," Kylie says, rolling her eyes. "Coach Johnson would be insane not to take you."

"Exactly! It's one night." Sarah's voice takes on a pleading tone. "My parents are driving me crazy. I need this."

I know that look. Sarah's parents have been particularly difficult lately, pushing her toward a future she doesn't want. Her dad owns a successful construction company and expects her to follow in his footsteps, while her mom dreams of Sarah becoming a doctor. Neither bothers to ask what Sarah actually wants to do with her life.

I sigh, recognizing defeat. "Fine. But I'm not wearing anything ridiculous."

The matching grins on my friends' faces tell me everything I need to know.

"Shopping after school it is," Sarah announces, already planning our attack on the mall.

As I listen to my friends chatter about party plans and outfit possibilities, I can't shake the feeling that this party's gonna be different. Maybe it's the lingering effects of the nightmare, or maybe it's just senior year paranoia, but something tells me Saturday night's gonna change everything.

Little do I know how right I am.