POV: Olivia
The storm came without warning.
One minute, the house was breathing its evening rhythm—bathwater running, pyjama drawers sticking, Daisy scolding the pink toothbrush like it had betrayed her. Next, the wind shouldered the eaves hard enough to rattle the frames. Rain blurred the treeline into a black smear. Thunder rolled up through the ground and shook the walls. Somewhere far off a transformer blew; the lights dipped, then steadied with a strained hum.
Storms never used to scare me. In Red Moon, storms meant strength—wolves running under a sky that bared its teeth. After I ran, storms became omens. The old instinct in me always lifted its head and listened.
“Do we have to sleep?” Hyden asked, toes sneaking toward the racetrack rug.
“It’s raining,” Harvey added, as if that
