SCRATCHES IN THE DARK

CHAPTER 4: SCRATCHES

2:14 AM. ST. MARY’S HOSPITAL.

Fluorescent lights. Smell of antiseptic.

Mom was sitting up. Pale. But alive.

Shaken. Dehydrated. But alive.

A nurse was explaining: “An intruder tried to disconnect the IV. Security stopped him. We’re reviewing footage.”

Security. Right.

Cade’s security was already in the hallway. Two men in black, earpieces, not blinking.

I sat by Mom’s bed for 3 hours.

Held her hand. Lied and said it was just a “break-in at work.”

She bought it because she was tired.

Cade stood in the corner the entire time.

Like a statue. Like a guard dog.

Every time a nurse walked in, his whole body went still. Counting exits. Counting threats.

He didn’t sit. Didn’t drink the coffee I offered him.

“Who is he?” Mom whispered when she woke up the second time.

Her eyes were on him.

“My boss,” I lied.

“Big donor to the hospital.”

She squeezed my hand. Her skin was cold.

“He has good eyes, baby. Sad eyes. Like he’s been carrying something heavy for a long time.”

From the corner, Cade’s shoulders dropped half an inch.

He heard that.

By sunrise, the doctors discharged her to “home care.”

Which meant she was coming with us.

To his penthouse.

Because “home” wasn’t safe anymore.

The ride back was silent.

Mom slept in the back. Sedated.

Cade drove.

I watched him.

The blood was gone from his suit now. But I could still see it.

On his hands. Under his nails.

“You don’t have to do this,” I said quietly.

“Be my bodyguard.”

“I do,” he said. “You signed a contract.”

“That’s not why you’re doing it.”

He didn’t answer.

BLACKWOOD PENTHOUSE. 60TH FLOOR.

No windows. All black and steel and silence.

It felt like a bunker. Like a cage.

“You’ll stay here,” Cade said the second we got inside.

“Where I can see you. Where I can protect you.”

“I have an apartment.”

“You have a target on your back.”

I was too tired to argue.

Mom was asleep in the guest room within 10 minutes.

Cade showed me to another room.

Massive bed. Black sheets. Blackout curtains.

It smelled like him. Winter. Pine. Something dangerous.

He stopped at the door.

Didn’t look at me.

“Don’t leave this floor. Don’t open the door for anyone. Not even me.”

A pause.

“Goodnight, Lyra.”

He left.

No goodnight back.

I showered until the water ran cold.

It didn’t help.

I could still smell him on my skin. On my clothes.

Blood and wolf and that winter scent that made my chest tight.

I fell asleep the second my head hit the pillow.

I DREAMED OF RUNNING.

Snow under my paws.

Pine in my nose.

Heart pounding.

I wasn’t human.

I was fast. I was strong.

Something was chasing me.

And I wasn’t scared.

I could feel him.

Ahead of me. Behind me.

Running with me.

And then teeth.

Not biting.

Just grazing.

On my shoulder.

I woke up gasping.

The room was pitch black.

My skin was on fire.

I fumbled for the lamp.

And screamed.

Three long red marks ran down my left shoulder.

Deep. Raised. Fresh.

Like claws.

Like something had tried to drag me in my sleep.

But I was alone.

Door locked. Windows locked.

Alone.

I touched them. They were real. Hot.

My blood was on my fingers.

The door slammed open so hard it hit the wall.

Cade.

Shirtless. Sweat running down his chest.

Hair wild. Eyes glowing gold in the dark.

“Did he touch you?” He was already crossing the room.

His eyes locked on my shoulder.

“Lyra. Did he touch you?”

“No. I woke up like this.” My voice shook.

He was in front of me in two steps.

Grabbed my wrist. Not rough. Desperate.

Turned me. Sniffed the marks.

His breath was hot against my skin.

And then his whole body sagged.

Like he’d been holding up the building.

“Not him,” he breathed. “Me.”

My blood went cold. “What?”

He let go like I burned him. Stepped back.

Dragged both hands through his hair.

“The bond,” he said. The word sounded like a curse.

“It’s starting.”

“The bond.”

“When I dream of you, I run,” he said. Low. Ashamed.

“And sometimes I catch you. And I... I don’t have control there. Not fully.”

“You scratched me. In a dream.”

“I didn’t mean to.” He looked sick.

“The closer we get to the Blood Moon, the worse it gets. 26 days out and it’s already like this. We’ll start feeling each other. Seeing flashes. Hurting each other.”

I looked down at my shoulder again.

Three marks. His.

On me.

“This is insane,” I whispered. “This isn’t real.”

“I know.”

He stepped closer. Too close.

“I can smell your fear. And I can smell... something else.”

His eyes dropped to my mouth. Back up.

“Lyra, we need to put distance between us before”

His phone buzzed on the nightstand.

The sound was too loud in the quiet.

He picked it up.

My face went blank.

VIDEO ATTACHED.

CLICK TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS IN 24 HOURS IF YOU DON’T HAND HER OVER.

Cade’s thumb hovered.

Then he hit play.

It was me.

From an hour ago.

Asleep in this bed.

Black sheets. Hair on the pillow.

Camera angle: from the corner. High.

Zoomed in on my shoulder.

Someone had been in this room.

While I slept.

While he was down the hall.

The video ended.

Text underneath:

WE’RE WATCHING. 24 HOURS.

Cade didn’t breathe.

He looked at the door.

Then the window.

Then at me.

At the scratches on my shoulder.

And whispered:

“We’re not alone in this building.”