The Moonlit Heiress

Chapter 3: Secret beneath the surface

The howl tore through the night, and Clara felt a shiver run down her spine. It was far, yet something in it sounded hauntingly close. She heard her heart beating faster as she looked up at Alex, who became even more unreachable with the deep lines across his face.

"What is going on with you, Alex?" her voice shook.

He remained still for a moment, his gaze riveted to the dark line of trees beyond the cliffs. Another faint howl was borne nearer by the wind.

"Clara," he finally whispered low and urgently, "we must go. Now."

"But-"

"Now," he repeated, stepping closer and catching her arm lightly but firmly. "Trust me."

Something in his tone stilled the protests. It wasn't fear-at least, it wasn't of himself. Deeper, it was almost primeval.

Her heart ran wild for reasons not quite explained in her brain as she nodded and followed him down the path to the diner.

The only sound on the way back was that of the soft crunching of gravel beneath their feet, with waves crashing loudly somewhere in the neighborhood. And within Clara, a storm indeed continued–a proper maelstrom of doubts and terrors–nourishing these new questions: who or what could Alex be afraid of?

They pulled into the diner just as the wind started to pick up, slapping against the rattling windows. Jennie was gone, her lights off but the glow on the counter still on. Clara pulled out her keys and fumbled in the dark. Her hands shook while she unlocked the door, the weight of the night weighing in.

Indoors, the warmth of the diner did little for her unsettlement. Alex had briskly locked the door behind them before she began checking the windows, her bright eyes rummaging down the street outside.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Clara asked, crossing her arms over her chest to hide the shaking of her hands.

Alex said nothing, her jaw shut tight enough for her to suspect, in this at least, she'd been long-warned. In a flash it would become dark. The other way became him turning to her, the fading bright light on his face showing eyes aglow in pale green.

"It is not safe out there. Not tonight."

"It is not an answer. What is out there? Why act all the time as though it'll come into your door?"

He blew a hard breath and ran a hand through his dark hair. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

Alex studied her for a long, silent moment. Then he seemed to make a decision. He took a half-step closer.

"There are things in this world, Clara," he said, his voice low and deliberate, "things most people don't know about. Things that stay hidden-for good reason."

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest.

"Like what?

"Like wolves," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not the kind you're thinking of. These wolves. They walk among us. They look like us. But they're not human."

Clara stared at him, her mind struggling to process his words.

"You're joking," she said finally, though there was no humor in her tone.

"I wish I were." His eyes didn't flinch, didn't leave hers. "There's a reason I'm here, Clara. A reason I found you."

She felt her stomach twist. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you're in danger," Alex said, voice low. "And it's my job to protect you."

Clara shook her head and stepped back. "This is crazy," she murmured. "You don't even know me."

"I know enough," he said closely. "And so do they."

"Who are they?" she pressed, her voice rising. "What do they want?"

Alex held back and for the first time she saw something like regret in his expression. "They want you," he said finally. "Or more specifically, what you are."

"What I am?" Her voice cracked. "What does that mean?"

"It means you're not just Clara James," Alex said, his voice hard. "You're Isabella Hayes. And your bloodline is the key to a legacy that people would kill for."

Clara's legs threatened to buckle out from under her.

"No," she whispered. "This can't be happening."

"It's happening," Alex said, softening a tone. "And the sooner you accept it, the better I can keep you safe."

She let herself sink onto the nearest booth, dropping her head into her hands. "Why me?" she mumbled. "Why now?"

Alex dropped to a crouch in front of her, his hand laid lightly on the table.

"Because you're special, Clara," he said, his tone soft. "More special than you know. And though it may be hard for you to see right now, I'm here to help. You gotta trust me, though."

It felt like an anchor, heavy and crushing, each word piercing into her heart. She wanted to scream and run, trying to convince herself it wasn't real. Yet deep inside, a small voice was sure he was speaking the truth. The birthmark, his words, and these howls-the night proved something beyond the law of reason existed.

But before she could do so, the silence was sliced by a sharp crash. Clara jerked her head, and her heart seemed to leap right into her throat as Alex sprang to his feet.

"What was that?" she breathed.

"Stay here," he said firmly.

"Alex!"

"Stay here, Clara," he again ordered, leaving room for no pleadings.

In one smooth motion, he was at the door. Brighter, his eyes started to glow; Clara watched her breath catch. For one brief moment, his hands seemed to fist, the fingers curling as if he was clamping down on something inside him.

Louder this time, the crashing sounded again, immediately followed by a deep rumbling growl that made the skin crawl off her back.

"Alex?" she called, shaking.

"Lock the door," he growled. "And don't open it. Whatever you hear."

In a second, Alex disappeared in the night, and the door slammed shut after him. Clara came to the window, shivering, peering out. There was no one in the street but the trees, whose branches were tossing in the wind.

And then she saw it, peering from behind a pair of glowing eyes within the darkness; her breath hitched in the back of her throat as one shadow shifted-too large to be human, too quick to be any ordinary thing.

And Alex was walking right into it.