The Change a Day Makes
1318 Words
ALLIE
Allie woke to the soft sting of snowflakes landing on her face.
For a moment, her brain stalled. She lay blinking at the gray-white sky, thinking, Huh. Either I fell asleep, or I died, and this is the world’s chilliest afterlife.
Then the ache in her back throbbed, her boots pinched, and she realized, unfortunately, that she was very much alive.
“Great,” she muttered. “Still breathing. Still freezing. Still wanted by psychos. Living the dream.”
She forced herself upright, muscles howling in protest. The forest was eerily silent. Whoever had chased her yesterday had either given up or lost her trail.
Lucky her.
Or unlucky them.
Honestly, she wasn’t sure.
Because apparently the universe liked to be almost painfully literal with her luck.
She shoved the map away and started walking.
The trek consumed the entire day, snow grabbing at her boots, branches smacking her in the face as if the forest personally disapproved of her existence. Her feet hurt. Her shoulders burned. Every part of her was cold. Not a normal cold, existential cold. The kind that made her wonder what frostbite felt like on toes.
By the time she reached the tiny town, more like a postcard someone dropped in the middle of nowhere, her legs felt like hollow twigs.
Wolves Haven was impossible to miss. The sole illuminated building seemed to whisper, 'Come in, we won’t kill you, probably.'
Inside, the bar was dim and warm, with only a handful of patrons. Everyone looked like they belonged to the same unsmiling family photo. No one stared at her. No one questioned her.
That alone put her on edge.
Strangers always stared. That was the rule. That was the world.
The fact they didn’t…
“Great,” she muttered. “They’re either friendly or they’ve already planned where to bury me.”
A blonde bartender approached, beautiful, confident, smiling like she knew secrets.
“Hi, hon. You look like you need a drink.”
“Oh, trust me,” Allie said, “if I start drinking right now, I will absolutely cry in public, and none of us wants that.”
The blonde snorted. “Fair. Need a phone instead?”
“Yes, please. Before the universe changes its mind about letting me live.”
Allie dialed the number. The moment she heard breathing on the other end, she whispered the code phrase and hung up before her voice cracked.
She slid the phone back across the counter, cleared her throat, and said, “Water, please. Before I pass out and ruin your aesthetic.”
The blonde chuckled, handed her the glass, and drifted off to tend to other patrons.
Allie wrapped her hands around the cold drink and stared into it, trying not to imagine her sister’s face.
Please be here. Please be okay. Please do not be dead. Please don’t let me be alone in this.
She tapped her straw against the glass, over and over, the rhythm barely keeping her panic from spilling out.
CAITH
Downstairs, Caith nearly tripped off the treadmill when he answered the ringing phone and heard the code phrase. The voice hung up, leaving him standing frozen.
He realized the sisters had made it.
Relief hit so sharply he had to sit down before it knocked him over. He didn’t understand why he cared this much, why he hadn’t slept in days, why something inside him twisted painfully every time he imagined them hurt.
But he knew one thing with certainty:
Whatever the Hunters were planning, it involved this family.
And he would protect his pack, blood or not.
He changed clothes quickly, his movements clipped and precise. If it was a trap, he’d deal with it. If the girls were in danger, he’d die before letting anyone touch them.
He texted the team, got into the truck, and drove.
The roads were empty. Too empty. He stopped twice to inspect the tree line, sniffing for Hunters.
Nothing.
Still… something tugged at him. A pull in his chest, snapping taut like a tether.
He pressed harder on the accelerator, the sensation in his chest growing tighter, as if warning him that something was about to happen.
ALLIE
Allie pushed open the bathroom door, still patting her cheeks dry, telling herself she just needed to breathe, just needed to hold it together long enough for Leigh to show up. Maybe get a drink. Maybe scream into a pillow. Something normal.
But the moment she stepped into the narrow hallway, a scent hit her so hard her knees nearly buckled.
Male.
Warm.
Earthy.
A little wild.
A little dangerous.
And holy hell—delicious.
Not food-delicious.
More like “my-body-has-been-starving-its-whole-life-and-this-is-the-first-meal-it’s-ever-seen” delicious.
Heat shot low in her stomach so sharply she gasped.
“Oh no,” she whispered to herself. “Nope. Absolutely not. Universe, I swear to God if this is hormones, I want a refund.”
She followed the scent around the corner. She didn’t even feel like she had a choice; instinct dragged her like she’d been leashed by something undeniable.
And everything inside her just… stopped.
He stood by the entrance, winter sunlight framing him in molten gold. Towering, broad shoulders stretched a dark Henley over a chest marked danger. Thick arms, powerful thighs, rough jaw shadowed with stubble, hair tousled as if he’d raked his fingers through it during the drive.
But that wasn’t all.
It was the feel of him.
Like gravity. Like heat. Like fate.
Something ancient and primal clenched inside her chest, like a wolf in her soul had just snapped awake, shoving her aside to claim: Mine.
Her heart pounded so hard she swore the blonde bartender could hear it.
He turned.
Slow. Deliberate. A predator hears a sound that only he notices.
And then his eyes locked onto hers.
They weren’t just beautiful, though they were, unfairly so, they were intense. Piercing. As if the universe pulled taut between them and dropped the rest of reality out of existence.
A hot, electric jolt slammed straight through her body, head to toe.
Her breath caught.
Her knees wobbled.
Heat pooled low in her belly, fierce and terrifying.
“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” she muttered under her breath. “Nope. My body is not allowed to malfunction like this in public.”
Her thighs pressed together on instinct, traitors.
Her pulse hammered.
Her skin tingled, sparking like static.
He took one step toward her.
One step.
And her entire world tilted.
Because she knew. In her bones. In her blood. In a place deeper than logic.
Mate.
Her mate.
Her freaking mate.
“Oh, perfect,” she whispered, panic layering over desire. “I haven’t showered in two days, I smell like wolf and stress sweat, and now I meet Mr. s*x-on-Legs? Great timing, universe. Really nailed it.”
His scent hit her again—stronger now—and something inside her actually whimpered.
She wanted to move toward him.
Her wolf-self wanted to run to him; her human side hesitated.
Her human wanted to hide behind the nearest barstool and die.
He kept staring at her like she was the only star in the damn sky. He recognized her just as she recognized him. His jaw clenched, chest rising with a sharp inhale, eyes burning with something raw.
Dangerous.
Hot.
Possessive.
Too much.
Way too much.
The intensity, the want, the connection, the overwhelming rightness made her dizzy.
She took a step back.
And her heel caught the leg of a chair.
“Oh shi—”
She went down in a tangle of limbs and humiliation, her hands flailing for anything—air, sanity, dignity. No luck. Her head smacked the floor, but her last coherent thought wasn’t about pain.
It was:
“This is a fantastic first impression. Truly iconic. I hope he appreciates slapstick.”
Then everything went dark.
- Writer
