THE WOLF WHO WASN'T MEANT TO EXIST

THE WARNING

Mara barely slept that night. The message from the unknown number remained on her phone long after Adrian arrived home. You should have stayed hidden. She had read it so many times that the words had begun to lose their meaning, yet somehow they still frightened her every time. Adrian noticed the change in her immediately. "You're quiet." Mara looked up from the couch. "I'm just thinking." "About the call?" She nodded. Adrian sat beside her, studying her face. "You don't have to handle this alone." "I know." "Then tell me what you're thinking." Mara hesitated. "What if whoever called me knows something about my past?" Adrian's expression became serious. "Then we'll find out who it is." "We?" "Yes, we." Something about the certainty in his voice made her chest tighten. Mara leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to be looking for." "Then we start with what you do know." "My name?" "Your name. The orphanage. The people who raised you. Anything you remember from before that." Mara stared at the floor. "There isn't much." "Try." She closed her eyes. For a few seconds, nothing came. Then, strangely, a memory surfaced. A room. Dark curtains. Rain against a window. Someone holding her when she was very small. Mara opened her eyes. "What?" Adrian turned toward her. "I remembered something." "What did you remember?" "I don't know who it was, but..." She swallowed. "Someone used to hold me when I was little." "A man?" "I think so." "Do you remember his face?" Mara shook her head. "No. Just his voice." "What did he say?" She frowned, trying to reach deeper into the memory. Then a faint sentence came back to her. "You have to be brave, little one." Mara's breathing slowed. Adrian watched her carefully. "Anything else?" "No." She rubbed her forehead. "It's strange. I haven't thought about that in years." "Maybe the call brought the memory back." "Maybe." Adrian reached for her hand. "Whatever happened before the orphanage, it doesn't change who you are now." Mara smiled faintly. "I wish I believed that." "You should." She looked at him. For a moment, everything felt normal again. Then her phone vibrated. Mara froze. Another message. She picked it up slowly. There was no text this time. Only a photograph. Her fingers went cold. It was an old picture of a little girl. A little girl with long dark hair and the same unmistakable eyes Mara saw every morning in the mirror. Her. Mara stared at the screen. Adrian leaned closer. "Is that you?" "I think so." "Where did they get this?" "I don't know." Mara zoomed in. The photograph appeared to have been taken indoors, years ago. Beside the little girl stood a woman Mara didn't recognize. The woman had dark hair and an unusually pale complexion. Her hand rested gently on the child's shoulder. Mara's heart began pounding. "Who is she?" Adrian asked. "I don't know." Another message appeared. This time, only four words. She knew who you were. Mara stared at it. "Who?" Adrian asked. But another message arrived before she could answer. Ask yourself why. The screen went silent. Adrian took the phone gently from her hand. "We're not responding." Mara nodded. He looked at the photograph again. "This person wants you scared." "Maybe." "Then don't give them that." Mara looked at him. "I'm trying." Adrian pulled her closer. She rested against his chest, but her mind remained on the photograph. The little girl in it looked happy, safe, loved. Nothing about the picture looked frightening. And somehow, that made it worse. Because if this was really her, then someone had known her before the orphanage. Someone had cared enough to take her picture. Someone had been there, and Mara had absolutely no memory of them. Across town, a man sat alone in a dark room. The same photograph lay on the table in front of him. He ran his fingers over the image of the little girl. For years, he had believed she was gone. He had searched when it was safe, and he had stopped when it became dangerous. But now she had appeared in photographs beside Adrian Mauriceson, alive, grown, unaware. A second photograph sat beside the first. It showed Mara as she looked now. The resemblance was undeniable. The man leaned back slowly. "She doesn't remember," he whispered. A shadow moved near the doorway. "Then we still have time." The man looked toward the darkness. "Not much." "What are you going to do?" His eyes returned to the photograph. "Nothing yet." "Why?" "Because if they discover she's alive before we're ready, they'll come for her." He carefully placed the childhood photograph inside a drawer and locked it. "She has to remain unaware." Back at Adrian's apartment, Mara was still awake. Adrian had fallen asleep beside her, one arm loosely around her waist. She stared into the darkness. The photograph wouldn't leave her mind. Neither would the woman's face. For the first time in her life, Mara wondered whether the orphanage had truly been the beginning of her story. Maybe it had only been the beginning of the part she remembered. She reached for her phone. The unknown number was still there. She stared at it for several seconds. Then another notification appeared. Mara's heart stopped. A new message. You're not as hidden as you think. Her fingers tightened around the phone. She slowly looked toward Adrian. He was still asleep. Mara looked back at the message. For the first time, she wondered just how many people knew her name. And how long they had been waiting for her to be found.