CHAPTER1
The road to Silver Ridge twisted through dense forest, the trees pressing in close like silent watchers. Fog clung low to the forest floor, and Riley had to squint to make out the signpost as she drove by. The wood was old, the lettering faded, but it still bore the town’s name in curling script: Silver Ridge – Est. 1852. A chill ghosted across her skin despite the car heater’s low hum.
She tightened her grip on the steering wheel, jaw set, eyes fixed on the winding road ahead. Trees blurred past, tall and ancient, their limbs gnarled like old bones. There was something different about this forest—too quiet, too alive. It felt like the trees were holding their breath.
It wasn’t the first time she felt watched since crossing the town’s invisible border.
Her fingers itched to reach for her notebook in the passenger seat, already half-filled with observations and fragments of thought. But now wasn’t the time for poetic musings. She was here for one reason: to disappear.
Riley Winters had lived her entire life in the city—crowded streets, honking horns, the distant blur of sirens at midnight. She wasn’t used to silence so thick it rang in her ears. But after what happened back home… she didn’t have a choice.
Her aunt’s cabin at Hollow Creek had been a lifeline, and when the old woman passed, leaving it to her in a barely-legal scrawl of a will, Riley hadn’t hesitated. She packed what little she had, left behind the echoes of a life she didn’t want anymore, and came here.
A fresh start.
Or at least, a hiding place.
The cabin came into view at the bend of the road, nestled in a clearing of mossy stone and wildflower-choked grass. It looked untouched by time—weathered wood siding, crooked shutters, ivy clinging to the stone chimney. And somehow, it felt like it had been waiting for her.
Riley stepped out of the car, the crunch of gravel beneath her boots loud in the hush. The air here was different. Crisp. Wild. She inhaled, and it filled her lungs like a taste of freedom.
She didn’t notice the black SUV parked just out of view near the treeline until she was halfway to the door.
A man leaned against it, arms crossed, posture casual—but every line of his body buzzed with tension. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in the dark uniform of a sheriff. The badge on his chest glinted as the sun finally broke through the clouds.
“Riley Winters?” His voice was deep, calm, and unmistakably authoritative.
She stopped in her tracks, keys halfway to the door. “Yes?”
“I’m Sheriff Alec Blackthorn. I like to check in on new residents, especially those moving into Hollow Creek. Not exactly the safest part of Silver Ridge.”
Riley blinked, heart thudding. “Didn’t realize moving into my aunt’s cabin came with a welcoming committee.”
Alec didn’t smile. “There’ve been reports of unusual animal activity in the area. Missing pets. Scattered livestock. Some of the locals are superstitious.”
“And you’re not?” she asked, unable to help the edge in her voice.
His eyes were unreadable, dark as the forest behind him. “I’m cautious. There’s a difference.”
She crossed her arms, suddenly defensive. “I can take care of myself.”
His gaze lingered on her for a beat longer than necessary. “Still. I’d recommend locking your doors. Staying in after dark.”
“Noted.”
There was something about the way he looked at her—like he was trying to see beneath her skin. She shifted under the weight of it.
“Enjoy your stay, Miss Winters.” With that, he turned and walked back to his SUV. The engine purred to life, then faded as he disappeared down the road.
Riley stood frozen for a few moments before exhaling sharply. “Well. That was ominous.”
Inside the cabin, dust motes danced in golden shafts of light. The place smelled like pine and old paper, with a faint undertone of something more—her aunt’s rosewater soap, maybe. Or something deeper, something that tugged at the corners of memory.
She lit a fire in the stone hearth and unpacked slowly, methodically, trying to make the space hers. By nightfall, she was curled up in a faded armchair with her notebook open, candlelight flickering across the page.
But peace didn’t last long.
The wind outside howled through the trees, wild and insistent. A branch scraped against the window like a claw. Riley tried to ignore it, but her heartbeat wouldn’t slow.
Then—she heard it.
A low, mournful howl, echoing through the woods.
It didn’t sound like any dog or coyote she’d ever heard. It was… bigger. Deeper. It vibrated in her chest, stirring something ancient and instinctual.
She stood slowly, moved to the window, and looked out.
Nothing but trees and moonlight.
Yet the air felt charged, electric.
Later that night, she dreamed—vivid, consuming dreams she couldn’t wake from.
She was running barefoot through the woods, her skin slick with sweat, heart racing. Branches whipped past her, but she didn’t slow. Something was calling her. Something just ahead.
Golden eyes gleamed in the darkness.
She stopped in a clearing, the world spinning. A man stepped from the shadows.
Alec.
But not Alec.
His shirt was gone, muscles taut and powerful, his eyes glowing with something more than human. He stepped closer.
“You don’t know what you are yet,” he said, voice like thunder wrapped in velvet. “But you will.”
Then his hand brushed her cheek, and her skin flared with heat.
“You’re mine.”
Riley gasped awake, drenched in sweat. Her hands trembled as she shoved the covers aside.
The cabin was silent. But the window was open—she was sure she’d closed it.
Outside, the forest shimmered with moonlight.
And far in the distance… the howl came again.
Closer this time.
Too close.
