Rise of a Silenced Wolf

Monster

July

The hiking family stayed right by my side until the park rangers arrived.

The little boy, Timmy, hid behind his mother, peeking out with only half his face visible. His earlier bravery was entirely gone, replaced by terror as his tiny hand fiercely gripped the hem of his mother's jacket. His mom, Laura, held him close, while his father stood a few paces away, frantically calling for help.

I wanted to thank them so badly, but I couldn't make a sound. Laura must have noticed my lips twitching because she whispered gently, "It’s okay. You're safe now. The ambulance is on its way."

I lowered my eyelids. It was the only response I could manage.

Before the ambulance could make it, the park rangers rushed onto the scene. Two men in fluorescent vests pushed through the heavy brush, carrying a first-aid kit and a folding stretcher. Horror washed over their faces the moment they saw me.

One of them knelt beside me, lifting my eyelid to shine a flashlight into my pupil while checking my pulse. "Ma'am, can you hear me? Blink twice if you can hear me."

I blinked twice.

"Good. What's your name? What happened? Was anyone with you?"

He asked me questions, and I couldn't answer a single one. I opened my mouth, desperate to force even one syllable past my throat, but no matter how hard I tried, only a raspy, useless hiss of air escaped.

The ranger frowned, staring at my lips. Then, his expression cleared as if an idea had struck him. He leaned down, gently pressing his forehead against my temple.

It was the standard posture for werewolves to initiate a mind-link—a telepathic connection that required no words, no voice.

I felt his consciousness cautiously reaching out, trying to bridge the gap and connect with mine. But I was wolfless. Without a wolf spirit to anchor it, I didn't have a receiver for a mind-link. He waited and waited, but nothing happened. When he finally straightened up, a heavy layer of confusion and pity clouded his eyes.

"She can't establish a mind-link," he whispered to his colleague, lowering his voice. "I think she's wolfless."

"Wolfless? Then how on earth did she—" His colleague frowned in sheer disbelief.

He didn't finish the sentence, but I knew exactly what he wanted to say. How could a wolfless person survive a fall like this?

Right then, hurried footsteps crunched loudly outside the bushes, and a face I knew all too well appeared through the leaves.

Joseph.

The exact moment I saw him, he saw me and he froze dead in his tracks.

For a split second, I caught terror in his eyes—like a predator stumbling upon a prey that was supposed to be dead. His pupils dilated, his shoulders locked up, and his right foot shifted back a fraction of an inch.

He was calculating whether he should turn and run.

I stared at him, and the rangers turned around, noticing Joseph’s presence.

"Sir!" one ranger called out, waving him over. "Do you happen to know the victim?"

Snapping out of his shock, the terror on Joseph's face instantly morphed into frantical worry. He rushed forward, practically throwing himself onto his knees beside me.

"July! July! Thank the Moon Goddess... you're alive!"

Joseph sobbed, his palm pressing flat against my skin. Just an hour ago, those same hands had gently wrapped around my waist, pulling me into his chest against the cliffside wind. Those exact hands had brutally shoved me off the edge. Now, that hand was caressing my cheek, putting on a masterful display of deep affection right in front of everyone.

If I hadn't been the one he personally threw off that cliff, I would have believed he was a deeply devoted husband.

My body began to shake uncontrollably. My gaze locked onto his face. How I wish I could burn right through his mask and show everyone the monster underneath.

"What's wrong with her? Why is she shaking like that?" one of the rangers asked.

"It must be the pain," Joseph said, his voice cracking perfectly. "She must be hurting so badly. Did you give her any painkillers?"

"I'm sorry, sir," the ranger explained. "We can't administer medication without knowing her medical history."

Joseph cooed at me tenderly, "Hang in there, July. I know it hurts, but you're going to be okay. I'm right here with you."

It was so twisted.He was the sole reason for my agony. The last thing I wanted to see was his hideous face, yet here he was, kneeling beside me, pretending my suffering had nothing to do with him.

"What happened out there? How did she get hurt like this?" Laura asked from behind.

Joseph's Adam's apple bobbed as the lie slipped smoothly from his lips. "We were taking photos on the observation deck. My wife wanted a shot closer to the edge. I told her it was too dangerous, but she wouldn't listen to me... and then she slipped. It was too fast. Everything happened too fast."

He paused, burying his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking as if choked by overwhelming grief. "I couldn't catch her. I was so close... just an inch away from grabbing her..."

His voice shattered on the last word, dissolving into muffled sobs.

If I hadn't lived through it myself, I would have believed him. The story he spun was flawless. A reckless wife insisting on a dangerous photo, a helpless husband trying to stop her, a tragic accident. No witnesses. No evidence. And I was left mute, utterly unable to defend myself.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," Joseph said, looking up as he stepped protectively between me and the rangers. "What my wife needs right now is peace, not an interrogation. Can we please save the questions for when she's stable?"

The ranger nodded. "Of course. The ambulance will be here any minute. We'll do everything we can for your wife."

Joseph lowered his head, pressing his forehead against the back of my hand, his warm breath fanning across my fingertips. To anyone else, this was a devastated husband praying to the Moon Goddess, offering silent comfort to his dying wife.

But I was the only one who felt it. The slight, sickening upward curve of his lips against my skin.

Stop acting, I screamed internally. I strained to widen my eyes, glaring at him, desperate for anyone to look into my eyes and see the accusation. But no one did. Everyone’s gaze was fixed on Joseph—the perfect, frantic, heartbreaking husband.

"We can't wait for the ambulance," Joseph suddenly announced, standing up with urgent determination. "I'll carry her. Driving her myself will be faster. The nearest hospital is at least forty minutes away. If we wait for the ambulance to get here and head back, that's eighty minutes. I don’t want her to suffer so long."

He leaned down, reaching his hands toward me.

Every drop of blood in my veins turned to ice. A terrifying realization struck me. He wanted to get me alone. In his car. On some deserted stretch of road. All it would take was a tight squeeze around my windpipe around a quiet bend to finish the job, masking it as succumbing to injuries. No one would ever question a grief-stricken husband.

"Sir, you can't move her like that," a ranger interceded, blocking him. "Her spine might be damaged. Moving her incorrectly could cause secondary injuries—paralysis, or worse—"

"She's my wife!" Joseph's voice barked out, losing a bit of its composure. "I'd rather she be paralyzed than die right here! Get out of my way!"

His hands shoved under my armpits, his fingertips digging hard into my ribs.

"You need to calm down, sir," Laura spoke up, stepping in to push Joseph back. She wasn't tall. She was a good half-head shorter than Joseph, but she stood firm like a solid brick wall.

"I understand your panic," she continued. "If my husband were lying there, I'd be out of my mind trying to carry him to safety too. But sir, look at her—her legs, her arms, the wounds on her neck. Moving her right now isn't saving her. It's killing her."

She whispered the word “killing” softly, but Joseph’s expression faltered. It was only for a split second, but I saw it.

"You don't understand—"

"I don't know your situation," Laura cut him off, her tone gentle but completely unyielding. "But I do know basic first aid. The ambulance is on its way. Keeping her flat and still for is infinitely safer than a reckless move. Your wife needs calm right now. Any rash decisions would only hurt her."

Her husband stepped forward too. He didn't say a word, just stood silently behind his wife with his arms crossed over his chest, his calm gaze fixed heavily on Joseph. It wasn't an overt threat, but it was enough to make Joseph realize there were two capable adults here—two witnesses. This wasn't a place where he could just do whatever he wanted.

Joseph pulled his hands back. A flash of pure frustration darted across his face, but he quickly reined in his temper. He took a half-step back, letting his hands drop limply to his sides, melting right back into the role of the helpless, pitiful husband.

"I'm sorry," he rasped. "I just... I can't lose her."

Laura leaned over, her face reappearing in my line of sight. Her blonde hair fell around her like soft stalks of wheat. She gently tucked the emergency blanket around me, her movements so delicate as if terrified of breaking porcelain.

"It's over now," she cooed softly. "Your husband is here, and the ambulance is coming. You're going to be okay. "

I wanted to tell her the truth. I wanted to grab her wrist and trace words onto her palm, to tell her that the man standing right beside me, gazing down at me with such artificial devotion, was the monster who threw me off the cliff. But I couldn't lift my arm. My throat couldn't form a single sound. All I could do was scream inside my head, over and over again. I was like a moth trapped under a glass jar, battering itself until it bled, completely unheard.

Eventually, the ambulance arrived. Shadows in paramedic uniforms rushed over. On a count of three, they carefully lifted me onto a stretcher.

"One family member can ride along," a young nurse announced.

"I'm her husband," Joseph said immediately.

No one questioned him. He was guided into the back of the ambulance, taking a seat near the doors, and the nurse climbed in after him.

She wears a dark blue uniform beneath a neon vest, short auburn hair tucked behind her ears. Sitting down beside me, the nurse watched me with a deep furrow in her brow. Her eyes darted from my carotid artery to my mangled leg and down to my pupils, her movements swift and practiced. She attached the monitor leads to check my vitals and softly gasped.

"Multiple trauma, low blood pressure, suspected fracture of the right tibia and fibula, possible internal bleeding," she reported to the driver-doctor. Turning back to me, her eyes softened with professional empathy. "Ma'am, can you tell me your name?"

I blinked, my mouth opening and closing in vain.

The nurse's eyes drifted to the severe bruising on my throat, shredded by branches during my fall. "Oh... you can't speak," she noted, turning her attention to Joseph. "Sir, how did your wife get injured?"

"She slipped and fell off the cliff," Joseph said. "We were sightseeing at the top. She wanted to get closer for a photo, and I couldn't catch her in time."

"The cliff?" The nurse paused. She looked down at me, then her gaze shifted back to the erratic heart rate spiking on the monitor. "You mean Red Cliff?"

Joseph nodded.

"But that cliff is at least ninety meters high," she said.

The ambulance fell dead silent for two long seconds. No one spoke, only the steady, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor filling the void.

"Ninety meters," the nurse muttered, her voice laced with pure shock. "Surviving a fall like that is a miracle. I've never seen anything like it."

Joseph didn't reply.

Looking up from the angle of my stretcher, I could see his hands resting on his knees, slowly clenching into tight, white-knuckled fists.

Finally, he spoke. "It really is a miracle."

I knew exactly what he was thinking. He was thinking this miracle should never have happened. He was wondering why a ninety-meter drop hadn't crushed a wolfless she-wolf to death. He was plotting how to fix this damning mistake.

The nurse seemed to sense the heavy tension. She glanced down at me, her eyes cutting a brief path between Joseph and me, before she gently patted my shoulder. "Don't be scared," she whispered, her voice even softer than before. "We've got you now. We're going to take good care of you, okay?"

I stared at her. She was young, probably in her early twenties, with clear, pale green eyes beneath her auburn bangs. She still had a bit of baby fat on her cheeks, but her gaze carried the absolute certainty of a medical professional.

I blinked hard. It was the only way I could say thank you.

We arrived at the hospital in no time. The moment the back doors flew open, harsh fluorescent light flooded in, forcing me to squint. I caught sight of the glowing red emergency room sign as orderly staff rushed toward us pushing gurneys. The nurse jumped out first to coordinate with them.

For a fleeting moment, it was just me and Joseph left in the back of the vehicle.

His face emerged from the backlight, leaning closer and closer until he was inches away. He reached out, his fingertips grazing my neck, his hands loosely circling my throat like a gentle collar. His silhouette completely blocked the outside light, throwing his face into shadow, leaving only those cold eyes piercing through the dark.

"Are you really unable to speak, July?" he murmured, his voice so quiet it was meant for my ears alone. His warm breath fanned across my face, carrying the familiar scent of his cologne—the same scent I had breathed in against his collar on countless mornings.

With every ounce of strength I had left, I nodded.

"Really?" he pressed, his eyes narrowing with deep suspicion. His grip tightened just a fraction around my neck—not enough to kill me, but enough to compress my windpipe. "Are you truly mute, or are you just playing dumb?"

I couldn't react. Joseph locked eyes with me for what felt like an eternity before he finally let go. I couldn't tell if he believed me or if he had heard the nurse’s returning footsteps right outside the doors.

He straightened up, his sinister expression instantly wiping away into a mask of tender grief, transitioning as smoothly as flipping a page. The exact second the nurse pulled the door open, he leaned down to press a loving kiss to my forehead.

The nurse suspected nothing. She and the orderlies were busy rolling my stretcher out of the ambulance. As I passed Joseph, he leaned down slightly, pretending to help push. His lips brushed against the shell of my ear, his breath hot against my skin.

To anyone watching, it looked like a tender whisper shared between lovers. But what he actually whispered was a living nightmare.

"If I find out you've tried to tell anyone—anyone at all—I will pull out your IV tubes. I will unplug your ventilator. Then, I'll sit right by your bed, holding your hand, and watch you slowly die. Nobody will ever suspect a grief-stricken husband."

With that, he let go and stood straight, calling out in a voice loud enough for the entire ER to hear, “Hang in there, babe. You're going to be okay. I'm right here with you.”