The moon hung heavy over the darkened forest, casting long, twisted shadows that danced with every whisper of the wind. Lena’s breath fogged in the cold air as she ran, her heart a frantic drumbeat in her chest. Every step she took sent twigs snapping beneath her feet, but she didn’t care. The voice in her head—his voice—was back, threading through her thoughts like a poisonous vine.
You can run, little wolf, but you cannot hide.
The sound wasn’t real. She knew it wasn’t real. And yet, every syllable felt like warm breath against her ear.
Her lungs burned by the time she reached the clearing. The old ruins stood silent before her, their broken stones lit silver by the moonlight. A place of history, of stories her mother once told her as bedtime warnings. But tonight, it felt different—a
