Chapter 4: Blood Never Lies
750 Words
Raine couldn’t hear her own breathing anymore. "Everything was too loud, Elijah’s heartbeat pounding behind her, claws scraping the dirt, her own blood rushing in her ears."
The wolf stepped into the moonlight, its yellow eyes sharp. It was bigger than any she'd ever seen, even in her dreams." Taller than Elijah. Broader than the man who had once dragged her mother’s body from the wreckage.
Her muscles tensed, instincts kicking in. Her body knew before her mind could catch up. This thing was Alpha-born.
“Elijah,” she said, keeping her voice even, “if I tell you to run, you run.”
“No,” he said quickly, standing beside her. “I’m not leaving you.”
“I can handle it.”
“You don’t even know what it is.”
She didn’t answer. Because part of her did know. And the part that didn’t was too scary to guess.
The wolf growled again, deep and slow, and it shifted forward one step.
Raine could feel something moving under her skin, the itch, the pull, the ache in her jaw and hands. Her wolf was surfacing. Not by choice.
And then it plunged.
Raine moved faster than she thought possible. She shoved Elijah backward and met the beast head-on, her shoulder slamming into its chest. The two of them tumbled through the underbrush, claws scraping, snarls echoing through the trees.
Elijah shouted her name somewhere behind them, but she couldn’t focus on him.
The wolf was strong. Not just big but trained. Experienced. Every move it made was meant to kill.
Raine kicked off the ground and twisted, knocking it back long enough to scramble upright. Her hands were b****y, and her hoodie was torn, but she didn’t feel the pain. Not yet.
She bared her teeth.
Something shifted in the wolf’s gaze recognition? Hesitation? Before it lunged again.
This time, she didn’t dodge.
She let the shift take her.
Bones cracked. Vision blurred. The cold vanished as her skin burned hot, fur breaking through, limbs stretching, mouth widening into a snarl.
She met the wolf mid-leap, and the two of them crashed to the ground in a fury of teeth and blood.
When she came, it was quiet.
The clearing was torn apart, branches snapped, dirt clawed up in deep lines. Blood soaked the ground. Her blood? Its blood? She didn’t know.
She was half-shifted, half-n***d, curled in the wet grass. Her hands were raw. Her jaw ached.
And Elijah was gone.
She sat up too fast, dizzy. “Elijah?”
Nothing.
Panic gripped her chest.
She stood, staggered, and followed the trail of broken foliage leading deeper into the woods. Her nose picked up his scent of blood, sweat, and fear. And something else. Something older.
Then she found it.
A piece of his shirt. Torn and hanging from a low branch.
Next to it, carved into the bark in deep, fresh claw marks three letters.
B.A.R.
Her stomach turned. She recognized the name. Barrow Pack.
They were the ones whispering about the feral remnants of a bloodline that rejected the council. They believed in power over honor, in dominance through fear. Exiled. Dangerous.
And the worst part?
They didn’t take prisoners. Not unless they needed leverage.
Her head spun. Her knees buckled. She dropped to the forest floor and let the sob rip through her.
She had lost him again.
But this time, it was her fault.
Back in town, a figure watched the forest line from the shadows of an abandoned barn. His cloak was damp. His eyes are silver.
He had seen it all: the shift, the fight, the girl.
“She doesn’t know what she is yet,” he muttered.
Another voice behind him is a woman's soft and mocking voice.
“She will. And when she d
oes… every pack will come running.”
The man turned slightly. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
- Writer
