The Red Wolf

Insanity

The nightmare gripped me like a vice. Daniel’s screams echoed through a forest shrouded in shadow, his figure barely visible as he stumbled backward—bloodied, afraid, calling for help. And then the wolves came. Not the ones I’d seen before. These were monstrous, eyes glowing, teeth bared. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t scream. Just watched, paralyzed, as he was swallowed by snarling jaws and crimson splashes.

“Daniel—!”

I sat up with a gasp, heart slamming against my ribs. My skin was damp with sweat, breath shallow and quick. Ronan was there instantly, his hand at the small of my back, the other brushing hair from my face.

“Hey, hey. You’re okay. Just a dream.”

I didn’t remember moving toward him, but the next thing I knew, I was curled into his chest, knees drawn up. He didn’t hesitate, just shifted so we were both lying down again, his body warm and solid beneath me. I was facing him, his presence anchoring me like a lifeline. He kept murmuring soft things—nothing specific, just noise and comfort.

Eventually, my heartbeat slowed. The terror faded into something dull and distant. His arm around me felt secure. Safe. I closed my eyes and, almost against my will, drifted back to sleep.

When I woke again, soft light filtered through the trees and into the clearing where we’d camped. I was still close to Ronan, but now he wasn’t touching me—just lying a few inches away, his face turned toward mine. He was asleep, but not peacefully. His brows were slightly drawn, like whatever he was dreaming about wasn’t kind.

I watched him. His features were sharper like this. Not just in shape but in expression—unguarded. He looked younger. I didn’t realize I was still staring until his eyes opened, drowsy but focused. We both froze for a second, just… looking.

He didn’t smile, but his eyes softened. “Morning.”

I nodded. “Morning.”

We didn’t say anything else for a while. It didn’t feel necessary.

—

The hike back to Gran’s house was long and slow. Damien led us, flanked by the two others who’d shown up in the night. Ronan walked beside me, close but not overbearing. I noticed, faintly, how my senses weren’t as overwhelming as before. Still heightened, but more… manageable. I murmured something about it, mostly to myself.

“You’re adapting,” Ronan said quietly. “It gets easier.”

That made me stop walking. “What do you mean ‘adapting’? What exactly am I adapting to?”

He glanced at Damien, who looked back once and kept walking.

“Later,” Ronan said. “Once we’re somewhere safer.”

Which did not help the nerves flaring up in my stomach.

When we finally reached the house, Gran was outside on the porch, arms crossed, gaze tight with worry. The second she saw me, she exhaled and opened her arms. “Oh, thank God. I knew Damien was out there, but still—Maya.”

I let her hug me, though my brain was still whirling.

Inside, she made tea I didn’t touch and started babbling about how things turned out okay, how Damien and the others were always nearby, how this kind of thing never happens—whatever this even was.

“Enough,” I said. “No more vague reassurances. I want the truth.”

Her lips thinned. “Maya—”

“If you don’t tell me, I’m leaving. Today.”

The room went still.

Ronan looked toward her, and she looked toward Damien, who had followed us inside and stood leaning against the wall with arms crossed.

“You wouldn’t believe us,” Gran said finally.

“Try me.”

Damien rubbed the back of his neck, then stepped forward. “What do you think happened out there?”

I blinked. “I think wolves tried to eat me. And then more wolves saved me. But somehow those wolves weren’t normal, and neither are any of you, and somehow Ronan could smell me in the woods like a bloodhound and—and I don’t know!”

Ronan sighed beside me. “It’s complicated.”

“Then simplify it.”

They exchanged glances again. And then Damien nodded at Ronan.

Without a word, Ronan walked into the middle of the room. He paused, looked at me, and his expression softened just slightly. “Just don’t scream.”

“What—?”

His body shimmered.

There’s no other word for it. One second, he was standing there, tall and human. The next, the air rippled like heat on pavement, and his shape bent and twisted—and then there was a wolf. Huge. Sleek. Silver-gray with streaks of dark ash across his back and eyes so familiar it made my heart stutter.

I stumbled back into the couch.

“Oh my god.”

He took a step forward—slow, careful. His massive head tilted, ears twitching. I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t blink.

“Ronan?” I whispered.

The wolf blinked.

After a moment, the air shimmered again and Ronan began shifting back. Before he fully changed, Damien quickly stepped forward with a heavy blanket, draping it carefully over Ronan’s wolfed form. The blanket sagged and stretched as Ronan’s body shifted back into his human shape beneath it.

When the transformation finished, Ronan crouched there wrapped in the blanket, cheeks flushed faintly. I could see skin where his shirt once was where the blanket didn't completely cross.

“That’s what we are,” he said. “That’s what you are.”

I stared at him. “No. No, I’m not—what?”

“You’re changing,” he said gently. “You’ve started to. That’s why your senses are all over the place. Why you’re faster. Why you feel like the world’s pressing in. It’s part of it.”

I stood up. “No. This is—I need—I need to pack.”

I turned and stormed toward my room. I wasn’t sure what I was packing for. I just needed to move.

I was yanking clothes out of drawers when Ronan appeared in the doorway, clothed.

“You don’t believe it.”

“Would you?” I shot back.

He leaned against the frame. “No. Probably not.”

I dropped a shirt and sat down hard on the bed, head in my hands.

“I don’t know what to do,” I said.

“You don’t have to know right now.”

Silence.

Then I looked up at him. “That thing you did—do you look like that every time?”

He nodded. “More or less. We all have our own markings. But yeah. That’s me.”

“You’re beautiful,” I muttered.

His brow arched slightly, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Thanks.”

We sat in silence again.

And then I heard the front door swing open.

“MAYA?!”

It was Stella. She came crashing into the room a second later, nearly tackling me in a hug.

“You’re okay—oh my god, I was so scared—you’re okay.”

Bailey was behind her, quieter, gaze flicking to Ronan and back to me. His jaw clenched.

“Glad you’re safe,” he said.

And I felt the shift then—like something between us had changed.

Something I didn’t have the energy to face.

Not yet.