Chapter Six
1133 Words
Then, from the dark woods ahead, a hulking grey wolf emerged.
Its eyes glowed with a sinister red light, inhuman and wrong. They pulsed like coals—burning, empty, soulless. A breath caught in my throat. Every instinct screamed that this creature didn’t belong to the natural world. It was something else. Something darker. Something made.
Tristan’s body shifted, stiffening beside me. A snarl began low in his throat, deepening into a rumble that vibrated the forest floor. His golden eyes locked onto the beast, and I could almost feel the tension bleed from his muscles, coiling into something feral.
The grey wolf stepped forward.
Tristan growled louder, lips curling back to bare sharp, ivory fangs. His entire form radiated power and protectiveness, but this wolf—this thing—didn’t even flinch.
It snarled back, mirroring him.
It was a challenge.
The kind that couldn’t be walked away from.
The tension snapped.
They collided mid-air.
The sound of it made me flinch—a bone-jarring crash of teeth and fury. Fur tangled, claws slashed, jaws snapped. They rolled across the clearing, snarling and biting, a whirlwind of blood and violence.
I stumbled back, hand flying to my mouth as I watched helplessly.
They weren’t just fighting. They were trying to kill each other.
The grey wolf was terrifying—fast and controlled, moving like a trained assassin. Every strike had purpose. Every movement, precision.
This wasn’t random.
It was planned.
And then—like shadows peeled from darkness—more wolves emerged.
Five. Six. Seven. Red eyes glowing. Their fur black as pitch, like ink pulled from a nightmare. They moved in sync, bodies low, stalking. Controlled. Tactical.
Unnatural.
I couldn’t breathe.
We were surrounded.
Tristan’s snarl turned to a long, thunderous howl—one that split the air like lightning. It vibrated through my bones and rattled the leaves above us. It was a call. A command.
And one by one, howls answered.
Faint at first, then closer.
Closer.
Then, like a crashing wave through the trees, a large brown wolf broke through the underbrush. Muscles rippled under its thick fur, teeth already bared. Behind him, a pack of wolves followed—Tristan’s warriors.
And then—
The forest erupted into war.
Fangs tore through flesh. Screams—both animal and human—filled the night. The ground shook beneath the chaos. Blood splattered the trees, turning bark slick and crimson. The air was thick with violence and fear.
I stood frozen, paralyzed by the c*****e.
Then Tristan turned to me—his wolf form slick with blood, golden eyes fierce.
He pushed his snout against my shoulder.
“Run.”
I gasped, the word vibrating through his chest.
“My Gamma will take you. Go.”
“No—!” My voice cracked, too sharp, too panicked. “Tristan, I can’t leave you!”
But his growl was sharp now. Angry. Protective.
He nipped at my arm—not to hurt, but to force me to listen.
Before I could argue again, another wolf—a lean one with dark fur and glowing amber eyes—slammed into my side.
It gripped my sleeve with its teeth and yanked me away from the battle.
I screamed, flailing, trying to fight back—but it wouldn’t let go. Another wolf flanked us, snarling as if warning me not to resist.
Together, they dragged me into the woods.
Branches whipped against my skin. Thorns bit into my arms. My feet barely touched the ground as they ran. I kept twisting, trying to see behind me, trying to catch one more glimpse of Tristan.
But the battlefield had vanished into the trees.
Tears burned down my cheeks. I wasn’t crying because I was afraid for myself.
I was afraid for him.
We ran for what felt like forever—through trees, across streams, over sharp rocks and uneven earth. My lungs burned. My legs trembled. But they didn’t stop.
They couldn’t stop.
Then, finally, the forest broke.
We stood at the edge of a clearing. In the center stood a house—if you could even call it that.
Tall and cold, the building loomed with sharp edges and dark wood paneling. Massive windows reflected the moonlight like eyes. It felt wrong, like it was built not for comfort, but for power.
Not home.
The wolves didn’t pause. They pushed open the door with their snouts and herded me inside.
Dark wood floors. Dim lights. The air smelled like leather, steel, and something faintly metallic.
Blood.
I was ushered down a long hallway and into a large office.
There was a desk—dark oak. A tall-backed leather chair. Bookshelves. A low-burning fireplace. But nothing about it felt warm.
It felt like a throne room for something terrible.
One of the wolves nudged me toward the chair.
I collapsed into it, my knees giving out beneath me. I wrapped my arms around myself, shaking, my breath hitching in my chest.
“Is he okay?” I choked out.
The wolf’s glowing eyes met mine. For a moment, there was a flicker of something soft there. Reassurance.
It nodded once.
Then it began to shift.
I heard the cracks—bones breaking and rejoining, limbs reshaping. Fur retracted. Skin shimmered.
And then she stood before me.
A woman. Wild hair cascading down her back. Skin a glowing bronze. Sharp cheekbones and calm eyes that didn’t belong in this world.
She knelt beside me.
“The Alpha will come soon,” she said gently.
I stared at her. “Come… back?” My voice was barely a whisper.
She nodded. “He’ll be fine.” She reached out and squeezed my trembling hand. “You need to rest now.”
Rest?
How could I rest when the man I loved was still out there, bleeding in the dark?
But my body didn’t care what I wanted.
I paced. I cried. I sat. I stood again. I walked to the window, peered into the forest.
Nothing.
I waited.
And waited.
Minutes stretched into hours.
The weight of fear settled on me like a chain. Every creak of the floor. Every rustle of leaves outside made my heart leap.
Still, no one came.
Eventually, I collapsed back into the chair. My arms folded on the desk, my head resting on them.
The scent of leather. The cold bite of fear. The emptiness of the room.
The last thing I remembered was Tristan’s snarl—his voice in my head, telling me to run.
And the dart.
That damn dart buried in the tree. The one meant for me.
Then—
Just as sleep began to claw at the edges of my mind—
A voice.
Deep.
Cold.
Wrong.
Right behind me.
“She’s finally here.”
- Writer
