Chapter Four – The Pack’s Warning
687 Words
The ride was quiet.
Aiden’s truck rumbled down the old backroads just outside the city, windows cracked slightly to let the damp morning air swirl in. Celeste sat in the passenger seat, the pendant cold in her hand now, her mind full of questions she couldn’t voice just yet.
She glanced sideways.
Aiden drove like a man trained for silence. Focused. Unnervingly calm. His hands on the wheel were large, scarred. Dangerous, she thought—and strangely gentle at the same time.
“So,” she finally said, breaking the silence, “where exactly are we going?”
“To meet the others,” Aiden said without looking at her. “If someone marked you, they’ll need to know. You’re part of this now, whether you like it or not.”
She frowned. “You keep saying marked. What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means you’ve been chosen,” he said, his voice low. “Either for death or something worse. Rogues don’t attack randomly. They follow scent, blood, magic.”
“Magic?” she echoed.
He glanced at her. “That pendant—it’s not just old. It’s enchanted. Wards like that are rare. And dangerous in the wrong hands.”
Celeste looked down at the silver disc again. Her mother’s voice echoed from a long-forgotten memory: “Never take it off, ma chérie. It will protect you from the teeth in the dark.”
She thought it had been metaphor. A bedtime warning.
She was very, very wrong.
After nearly thirty minutes, Aiden turned down a gravel road that disappeared into a curtain of cypress trees. Moss hung from the branches like the city’s own version of ghosts. Then, beyond a rusted gate, a clearing opened.
At the center stood a sprawling wooden house, weathered by time but pulsing with life. Men and women stood on the porch or moved through the trees—strong, alert, watching her with narrowed eyes.
Celeste felt the shift instantly. The air was thicker. Wilder.
They were all wolves.
Aiden parked, and the tension in the cab spiked.
“You’ll be safe here,” he said. “No one will harm you. But they will ask questions.”
“Right,” she said. “I’m good at awkward questions. I grew up in Catholic school.”
A flicker of something—almost a smile—touched Aiden’s lips. He got out and circled to open her door, an oddly old-fashioned gesture. She stepped down, suddenly aware of how out of place she looked.
A woman approached from the porch. Tall, graceful, and cool-eyed, with sleek black braids and a long gray coat.
“This her?” the woman asked.
“She’s the one who was attacked,” Aiden replied. “The rogue marked her. She has a moonforged pendant.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “You should’ve told us before you brought her here.”
“She didn’t know what she was carrying,” Aiden said calmly. “I won’t let her face this alone.”
Celeste bristled. “I’m standing right here, you know.”
The woman turned to her. “Then listen well, cher. You’ve stepped into a world with rules far older than this city. A world where names carry weight, and magic has teeth. If you stay, you’ll need to learn fast. Or you’ll die slow.”
“Nice to meet you too,” Celeste said dryly.
Aiden spoke again. “Celeste, this is Elise. She’s the pack’s seer.”
Elise’s eyes lingered on Celeste’s face. “You have your mother’s fire. That scares people. That’s good. Fear keeps fools honest.”
Something cold twisted in Celeste’s stomach. “You knew my mother?”
Elise didn’t answer. Just looked at Aiden. “You need to take her to the grave.”
Aiden’s expression darkened. “It’s not safe.”
“She needs answers. She won’t find them here.”
Celeste stepped between them. “What grave?”
Elise finally looked at her. “Your mother’s. She didn’t just die, Celeste. She was taken. And the night she vanished... the moon bled red.”
- Writer
