CHAPTER 8 — THE VISITOR AT THE DOOR
834 Words
The voice on the other side of the door was soft… too soft.
It drifted through the wood like smoke, curling around Annabelle’s spine.
“Annabelle…”
Her breath hitched.
She had never heard that voice before — but something in it felt wrong. Cold. Ancient.
Lucien snapped his head toward her.
“Do not answer,” he growled.
Annabelle swallowed hard, pressing herself behind him, her fingers trembling against the back of his arm.
The voice came again.
“Let me in. We need to talk.”
Lucien’s entire body went rigid.
He reached for the door handle — not to open it, but to make sure nothing pushed its way in.
His claws extended fully, curling around the metal.
“Speak,” Lucien demanded.
His voice was dark as thunder.
“Who are you?”
A faint laugh drifted through.
“You don’t remember my scent, Alpha?”
Lucien stiffened.
Annabelle felt it instantly — a shift in the air.
Recognition.
Anger.
Something colder.
Lucien lowered his voice.
“Annabelle… stay behind me. No matter what happens.”
She nodded, though her body shook uncontrollably.
The voice grew closer, as if leaning against the door.
“Open it, Lucien. I came alone.”
Lucien’s eyes flashed.
“Lies,” he snarled.
“I can hear the heartbeat behind you.”
Annabelle’s chest tightened.
There was someone else?
Two strangers at their door?
Silence stretched for a long moment.
Then the voice whispered:
“That heartbeat?
It’s hers.”
Annabelle froze.
Lucien whipped around, grabbing her shoulders.
“What did you do?” she gasped.
Lucien pressed his forehead to hers for one sharp, grounding second.
“Your heart is doubled,” he whispered.
“Your blood is reacting. It’s waking.”
Her body went cold.
Waking?
Now?
Why?
The voice chuckled again, softer, almost fond.
“So it’s true,” the stranger murmured.
“The Descendant’s blood stirs near her mate.”
Lucien lost control.
He ripped the door open.
The force of it cracked the frame.
Annabelle gasped as the cold night air rushed in — and a tall figure stood in the hallway, cloaked in shadow, hood covering his face.
But the moment the door opened—
Annabelle felt something like a pull inside her chest.
A string tightening.
A recognition she did not want.
Lucien moved instantly, stepping in front of her with a snarl so violent the walls shook.
“State your name,” Lucien demanded.
The hooded figure lifted his head slowly… and two pale, glowing eyes stared back.
“I go by many names,” he said softly, “but you knew me once, Alpha.”
Lucien growled.
“I’ve never seen you before.”
“Oh, but you have,” the figure murmured.
“You saw me the night she was born.”
Annabelle’s breath caught.
Lucien actually faltered — a rare moment of confusion.
“What?” Lucien hissed.
The hooded man stepped forward just an inch.
“I marked her,” he whispered.
“So that I could find her… years later.”
Annabelle felt the world tilt.
‘Marked.’
Her hand flew to her neck instinctively.
Lucien stepped closer, blocking her again, ready to lunge.
“You summoned the shade,” Lucien said.
“Why?”
The figure smiled beneath the hood.
“To warn her.”
Annabelle’s heart stuttered.
Lucien snarled.
“By trying to kill her?”
The figure shook his head slowly.
“Not to kill.”
His voice softened, almost mournful.
“To force her blood to awaken — because something worse is coming.”
Annabelle felt her throat tighten.
“Worse?” she whispered.
The stranger finally looked at her directly.
And she felt it — a spark of familiarity.
A whisper of memory.
A shadow she didn’t know she had.
His voice was gentle.
“The power in your veins is stirring, Annabelle. And once it fully wakes…”
He lowered his hood.
Silver hair.
Pale skin.
Eyes like cold moonlight.
“…every rogue, every witch, every dead creature in the forest will come for you.”
Lucien growled, stepping fully into wolf form for a fraction of a second — bones cracking, eyes blazing — before shifting back.
“You threaten her again,” he said through clenched teeth, “and I will tear out your throat.”
The stranger met his fury with calm.
“I’m not here to harm her.”
A pause.
“I’m here because I made a promise.”
Annabelle’s voice shook.
“A promise… to who?”
The man’s expression softened in a way that made her chest ache with a feeling she didn’t understand.
“To your mother,” he whispered.
Annabelle’s breath died in her lungs.
“My… mother?”
Lucien inhaled sharply, eyes widening.
But the stranger’s next words shattered the room into silence.
“She died protecting you,” he said softly.
“And now… the ones who killed her have found you again.”
- Writer
