Once Betrayed, Twice Shy

A party and a disaster

FARAH

This was a bad idea. I shouldn't have come here. None of this was my scene. I tug down the hem of my dress, which suddenly seems way too short and too tight. My fingers clench at the fabric as I suck in my stomach, trying to hide the insecurity gnawing at me.

“I’m not sure about this,” I whisper to Caroline, who’s standing beside me, completely at ease.

Caroline, my best friend—or at least, she used to be. We've known each other since we were kids, inseparable for years despite our differences. She’s tall, slim, and stunning with her golden locs flowing down her back. I, on the other hand, am petite and curvy, with dull brown hair that barely brushes my shoulders. I always felt plain standing next to her, but somehow, it never mattered back then.

But everything changed when we got to college. One day we were both just the two nerdy girls no one noticed, and then the next, one of the popular girls saw Caroline. From that point on, she became one of them. She stopped being seen with me, too embarrassed to hang around her old friend, I guess. I saw her less and less until eventually, I didn’t see her at all. I just didn’t fit into her new life.

So, when she slid into the seat next to me during lunch a few days before my twenty first birthday and invited me to her party, I was stunned. Reluctant, even. But she convinced me, smiling the way she used to when we were kids. And when she mentioned Aiden would be there—Aiden, the boy I’ve had a crush on for years—I couldn’t resist. The thought of seeing him, maybe even talking to him, made my heart race. Caroline told me to come over early so we could get ready together, just like old times. I couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the week. Maybe our friendship still had a chance after all.

But now, standing here, taking in the scene, I don’t know what I was thinking. Loud music, flashing lights, and people I don’t know holding the signature red cups of alcoholic beverages surround me. My palms are sweaty, and I feel painfully out of place.

“I think I should go,” I whisper again, hoping Caroline will understand.

She’s busy flirting with some guy I don’t recognize. She glances at me, annoyance flashing in her eyes. “Quit being a baby,” she snaps.

I blink, taken aback by her harsh tone. “Oh. Okay,” I mumble, embarrassed.

Almost immediately, her expression softens. She links her arm through mine, her voice more soothing. “I’m sorry, Farah. I’ve just been really stressed lately. Come on, let’s dance.”

I nod, letting her pull me toward the center of the room. The music pulses through my body, and I try to relax as we start to move to the beat. People begin to step aside, forming a circle around us, watching as we dance. My heart races, but Caroline flashes me a smile, and for a moment, I feel reassured. I close my eyes, letting the music take over, trying to drown out the rest of the world.

But when I open my eyes again, Caroline is gone.

Before I can even process it, something cold splashes over me, drenching me completely. My sheer dress clings to my body, and I freeze in horror as I realize the fabric has turned transparent. Laughter erupts around me, and I hear snickers and whispers as people point and laugh, mocking me. Humiliation crashes over me like a tidal wave, and I instinctively wrap my arms around myself, trying to cover my exposed skin.

I search frantically for Caroline, hoping she’ll help me. But when I finally find her, she’s standing off to the side, watching with a smirk on her face, her arms crossed.

The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. She planned this. The invitation, the party, everything—it was all a cruel setup. I trusted her, even when she abandoned me, and this is how she repays me? My chest tightens, and I struggle to hold back the tears that threaten to spill from my eyes.

Just as the laughter dies down, a guy steps forward, grinning stupidly, alcohol spilling from his red cup.

“Alright, alright!” he shouts. “Let’s make it fun.”

The crowd cheers.

“You get thirty seconds to hide,” he says. “If we catch you, you eat grass. Or maybe…” His grin widens cruelly. “Something nastier.”

More laughter. Someone nudges me. “Run, little rabbit.”

My heart sinks. “No,” I whisper. “I—I don’t want—”

“GO!” another voice yells.

Someone shoves me hard, and instinct takes over.

I run.

Not because I want to win.

Not because this is a game.

I run because staying means more humiliation—maybe worse.

My bare feet slap against concrete, then dirt, then grass as I sprint across the yard. The cold night air bites at my wet skin. Behind me, voices rise—shouting, laughing, chasing.

This isn’t a game anymore.

Their laughter sounds sharp.

Mean.

Predatory.

I can’t go home, my phone is still inside.

I can’t stop—God knows what they’ll do if they catch me.

So I head toward the only place no one ever goes—the woods.

The dark trees swallow me as I sprint into them. My lungs burn. Branches whip my arms and legs. My soaked dress sticks to me like ice, but I keep going.

For a moment, their voices grow faint.

Then I hear it.

Male laughter.

Closer.

They’ve split up—some ahead, some behind.

I’m being hunted.

Panic claws at my throat. I veer off the path, deeper and deeper into the forest. My feet slip in mud. My heartbeat pounds like it’s trying to break out of my chest.

I don’t look back.

Looking back means slowing down.

Slowing down means being caught.

I leap over a fallen log, nearly tripping. My breath comes in ragged gasps. The woods blur around me.

Finally, I duck behind a massive tree, pressing against the rough bark. My whole body shakes.

A yelp escapes me when suddenly, a hand grabs the back of what’s left of my dress, yanking me so hard I gasp. I twist, elbowing blindly, fighting like a wild thing. Someone curses. Another hand snatches my wrist. I jerk away, stumbling, slipping—

“Stop! You can’t run from this!”

I don’t stop. I won’t.

And then the ground disappears beneath me.

I fall.

I’m rolling, tumbling, dirt and grass and air spinning too fast to understand. My shoulder slams into something hard. Pain shoots up my arm. I try to grab onto roots, rocks—anything—but the hill is too steep. I keep rolling until, finally, my body slams to a stop at the bottom.

For a moment, I lie there, winded.

Then I hear them.

“s**t—”

“Did she—”

“Get her out of there!”

I push myself up on shaking arms, groaning. When my vision clears, I see their faces at the top of the hill. Three of them. The same people chasing me. But the anger is gone.

Now there is only fear.

Real, pure, stomach-twisting fear.

Before I can ask anything, before I can even catch my breath, they turn. All three of them. Running back the way they came. Not after me—away from me.

I straighten slowly—and freeze.

I don’t recognize anything. The trees, the air, the silence… everything feels wrong. Too dark. Too still.

Then I spot it.

A faded wooden post sticking out of the ground. Cracked. Weather-worn. Barely readable in the moonlight.

DO NOT CROSS

LYCAN TERRITORY

My blood turns to ice.

I’ve crossed the border.

The one no human returns from.

Rumored to belong to the ancient Lycan warlord—Caspian Thorne.

A Lycan with a wolf he can’t control.

Everything I’ve heard about him is terrifying. The oldest Lycan in history, living with a beast that sees every outsider as prey.

“Okay,” I whisper shakily. “Okay, just turn around. Just go back—”

A low, animalistic growl cuts through the silence.

Close.

Too close.

I freeze, every muscle locking. My breath hitches as a shadow in front of me shifts, slowly, like something huge is unfolding from the darkness itself.

Then I see it.

A massive beast steps into the moonlight. Jet black fur. Muscles rippling beneath it. Blue eyes, ice cold and unflinching.

Not a man.

A Lycan.

The Lycan.

My lungs stop working.

Its gaze drags over me, and its upper lip curls, not in hunger, but in something fiercer. Something impossible.

Possessive.

The air trembles as it lowers its head, nostrils flaring as it inhales my scent. A shiver races down my spine. Every instinct screams at me to run, to hide, to disappear—

Then its mouth parts.

Before I can think—before I can scream—his blue eyes flicker. For half a second, they shift into something almost human.

Then they snap back to glowing ice.

He takes one step toward me.

The earth trembles.

And then he speaks. Not in a growl—but in a voice that’s devastatingly human. Deep.

Rough. Broken.

“Serapha.”

The word is barely a whisper, but it slices through the night like a blade.

I shake my head frantically. “No—no, I’m not—my name is Farah—”

His massive form shudders. The beast’s lips pull back, revealing teeth that could tear me apart in seconds. But it isn’t rage I see in those glowing eyes.

It’s anguish.

“You are back,” he says, his voice cracking, shifting between human and animal.