Chapter Two: Teeth Beneath the Skin
1081 Words
The moment Isaac Hale left, the room felt colder.
Sabrina Cuevas stood still, staring at the door he’d just disappeared through. Her heart was pounding hard enough to echo in her ears. Not just from fear—no. From something else.
Recognition.
It made no sense. She’d never seen him before. At least… not that she remembered.
But something about his voice, the way he looked at her, the way her instincts screamed and her skin itched beneath the surface—it wasn’t just adrenaline.
It was something older.
Something buried.
She clenched her jaw and turned back to the wall of notes. Her sister’s smiling photo stared at her like a warning. Sabrina closed her eyes.
“Don’t get attached,” he had said.
But he already knew her name. He knew about her father. He knew too much.
And worst of all—he’d touched on something no one knew.
The warehouse.
The last place her sister was seen alive.
The place Sabrina had only discovered through instinct—when she stopped trusting the police and started listening to the part of herself that didn't belong in this world.
---
She packed her things quickly. Candle out. Bag slung over shoulder. Knives in place. Just in case he came back.
But he didn’t.
Only silence followed her out into the storm.
---
Isaac stood on the rooftop across the street, cloaked in shadow. He didn’t breathe, didn’t blink, didn’t move. Watching her. He didn’t need to follow her—he could feel her.
Wolf-blood.
He’d known the moment she stepped through that warehouse window days ago. The quiet way she moved. The sharpness in her eyes. The tension beneath her skin, as if something inside her wanted to rip through her bones and take over.
She didn’t know it yet.
Or maybe she did—and just refused to believe it.
Either way, it explained why the Black Chapel Syndicate had been watching her. Why she was suddenly important.
And why he was breaking all the rules just by being here.
Vampires were forbidden from interfering with wolves.
And Sabrina Cuevas?
She was the daughter of one.
---
Sabrina’s phone buzzed in her pocket. A private number.
She hesitated, then answered. “Hello?”
Silence.
Then static.
Then a voice—raspy, broken, familiar.
“Do you remember what you did to her?”
Sabrina’s breath caught.
“Who is this?”
But the line went dead.
She stared at the screen.
Then at her reflection in a cracked store window.
For a second—
Just one awful second—
Her reflection wasn’t hers.
Golden eyes. Sharp teeth. Blood on her cheek.
Then it was gone.
---
Back in her apartment, Sabrina locked the door and threw the bolt three times. Her small room was barely furnished—just a mattress, a desk, and a corkboard full of research. No photos. No mirrors. She had taken them all down months ago.
Because sometimes her reflection looked wrong.
And sometimes… she didn’t remember what she did at night.
She threw her coat off, shaking, and went to the bathroom. Turned the faucet on. Washed her face.
Her fingers trembled.
There had been moments—only flashes—where she woke up in the woods. Mud on her skin. Scratches on her arms. Blood that wasn’t hers.
At first, she thought it was trauma.
Now?
She wasn’t so sure.
---
Meanwhile, Isaac Hale walked calmly into the hidden underground of the city.
Through an iron gate in the back of a meat locker, past guards who nodded in fear. The air grew colder. Thicker. Reeking of death and perfume. A velvet curtain led to a room lined with chandeliers made of bones and glass. Pale figures moved inside, their eyes glowing faintly.
This was The Hollow Court.
The vampire syndicate’s oldest seat of power.
And he wasn’t supposed to be here.
“You’re late,” a woman with silver eyes said, seated on a throne of knives.
Isaac bowed stiffly. “I was delayed.”
“By the girl?” she said, standing. “Sabrina Cuevas? We warned you.”
“She’s not what we thought.”
“No,” she hissed. “She’s worse.”
Isaac didn’t flinch.
“She’s changing,” he said quietly. “She doesn’t know what she is.”
The woman laughed. “Neither do you. She’s not just a wolf. Not just a girl. She’s something that shouldn’t exist.”
Isaac’s voice turned sharp. “She’s innocent.”
“No one with blood on their claws is innocent.”
He stiffened.
But said nothing.
Because deep down, he knew it might be true.
---
That night, Sabrina dreamt again.
A hallway. Blood on the floor. Her sister’s voice screaming in the dark.
And then—
A door.
She opened it.
And saw herself.
Covered in fur. Eyes glowing yellow. Snarling. Holding something red and beating in her claws.
She woke with a gasp.
Breathless. Heart racing.
Something inside her whispered: You weren’t just chasing the killer.
You were trying to forget what you did.
---
Morning came like a lie.
Sabrina didn’t sleep. She stared at the ceiling for hours, piecing memories together, trying to make sense of things that didn’t add up. Her sister’s murder. Her father’s silence. The strange scars on her own arms.
And now… Isaac.
Who was he really?
Why had he looked at her like she was the one in danger—when clearly, he was?
---
That afternoon, she got her answer.
There was a knock at her door.
She didn’t answer.
The knocking turned to pounding.
Then—silence.
She grabbed a knife and crept toward the door.
Suddenly, it exploded inward.
Sabrina flew back, landing hard.
Three men in black stormed in—armed. Fast. Military-trained.
One grabbed her.
Then he screamed.
Because Sabrina’s eyes had turned gold.
Her veins darkened.
Her nails grew sharp.
And for the first time in weeks—
She let go.
---
When Isaac arrived minutes later, the room was soaked in blood.
Bodies lay broken.
Sabrina stood in the middle, panting. Eyes wild. Hands trembling.
She turned to him.
Tears fell from her face—but she didn’t look weak.
She looked powerful.
“Tell me what I am,” she whispered.
Isaac stepped forward.
And finally said the truth:
“You’re not just a wolf.”
“You’re the weapon they tried to bury.”
- Writer
