CHAPTER TWO
1089 Words
2: The Stranger
Elena woke with a start, her breath ragged. Her body was damp with sweat, her sheets tangled around her legs. She sat up, pressing a trembling hand to her chest as her heart pounded against her ribs.
The dream had been so vivid except it wasn’t a dream. It was a memory.
The black wolf. The silver wolf. The man who had shifted before her eyes.
She reached for the glass of water on her nightstand, her fingers unsteady as she took a sip. The cool liquid did little to calm her racing thoughts.
Three days. It had been three days since that night in the forest, and she still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching her. She had left the woods in a daze, barely remembering how she had gotten back to her cabin. Since then, an uneasy presence lingered in the air. Every rustling leaf, every shifting shadow, made her pulse spike.
She glanced at the clock: 4:17 a.m.
Too early to be awake, but sleep was out of the question. With a sigh, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and padded to the window. The glass was cold beneath her fingertips as she pulled back the curtain.
The Blackwood Forest stretched beyond her cabin, vast and endless under the moonlight.
She had come here for a photography assignment, hoping to capture the elusive wolf pack rumored to roam these woods. Instead, she had stumbled into something she couldn’t begin to explain.
She rubbed her arms, a shiver rolling through her.
Werewolves.
It sounded ridiculous even in her own head. But she had seen Kieran shift with her own eyes. There was no rational explanation for what had happened.
A sudden knock at the door jolted her from her thoughts.
She spun, her breath catching in her throat. Her heart pounded against her ribs.
Who would be here at this hour?
Her instincts screamed at her to ignore it, to pretend she wasn’t home. But the knock came again, firmer this time.
Slowly, she reached for the knife she kept by her bed. Fingers tight around the hilt, she crept toward the door and peered through the peephole.
A man stood on the other side.
Tall, broad-shouldered, his dark hair slightly disheveled as if he had run his hands through it. A leather jacket stretched over his muscular frame, and his stance was tense, restless.
But it was his eyes that made her breath catch.
Golden. Luminous. The same ones she had seen in the forest.
Kieran.
Her grip tightened on the knife.
She hesitated, her pulse hammering in her ears. What did he want? Why was he here?
“Elena,” he said. His voice was low, rough, carrying through the door like a quiet demand. “Open the door. We need to talk.”
Her mind screamed no. Every rational part of her knew better than to let a man—no, a wolf—into her home in the middle of the night.
But another part of her, the same part that had rooted her to the spot in the woods, told her she had to know.
With a deep breath, she unlocked the door.
Kieran stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his presence overwhelming in the small cabin.
She tightened her grip on the knife.
“You’re holding that wrong,” he said, his gaze flicking to her weapon.
She stiffened. “Excuse me?”
His lips twitched as if he were amused. “Your stance. If you’re planning to use that on me, you should at least hold it properly.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. Up close, she could see the exhaustion lining his face. His shoulders were tense, as if he were barely holding himself together.
“Why are you here?” she demanded.
Kieran met her gaze. “Because you’re in danger.”
A chill swept through her.
“I don’t even know you,” she said, folding her arms.
His golden eyes darkened. “That doesn’t change the fact that Marcus knows you saw him. And he won’t let that go.”
Marcus.
The black wolf.
Elena swallowed hard. “You mean the other one. The one you fought in the woods.”
Kieran gave a slow nod. “Marcus Graves. He’s dangerous, Elena. He won’t stop until he’s silenced you.”
She gripped the back of a chair to steady herself. “Why? I don’t even know what I saw.”
“You saw more than you should have.” His voice was firm but not unkind. “And Marcus doesn’t take risks.”
Her stomach churned. “Are you saying he’ll—”
“Yes,” Kieran said bluntly. “He’ll kill you if he gets the chance.”
A cold dread settled in her bones.
“This is insane,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t even be listening to this.”
Kieran stepped closer, his presence radiating warmth despite the tension in the air. “I know it’s a lot. But you have to trust me.”
She let out a sharp laugh. “Trust you? I don’t even know what you are.”
His jaw clenched, something flickering in his eyes.
“I told you,” he said quietly. “I’m a werewolf.”
The words hung between them.
Elena exhaled slowly. “And Marcus is one too.”
“Yes.”
She ran a hand through her hair, pacing. This was insane. Completely insane. Yet, deep down, she knew it was true.
She had seen it.
“Why are you telling me all of this?” she asked finally.
Kieran’s expression softened. “Because I need you to understand. And because—” He hesitated, as if weighing his words.
She raised an eyebrow. “Because what?”
His eyes met hers, something unreadable in them. “Because you’re not just some random human caught in the middle of this.”
Her breath hitched. “What the hell does that mean?”
He stepped closer, and for some reason, she didn’t move away.
“It means,” he murmured, “that you and I are connected.”
She swallowed hard. The air between them grew heavy, charged with something she couldn’t define.
Her instincts told her she should be afraid.
But she wasn’t.
Not of him.
Of what she was feeling? That was another story entirely.
- Writer
