The Mysterious Black Wolf

The arrangements

Arrangements were made quickly—too quickly for Elara’s liking, but the family was eager to “get things settled.” Granny would be laid to rest on a small plot of land overlooking the house, the place she’d loved most in the world.

Most of the family left, checking into a motel in the town twenty minutes away. “No offense, Elara,” Aunt Vivian had said, “but this house doesn’t have enough bathrooms for all of us, and the wifi is atrocious.”

Elara stayed, of course. Her brother Liam, his wife Jennifer, and their toddler took one of the upstairs bedrooms. Chloe claimed another, complaining about the “rustic charm” the entire time.

That night, Elara couldn’t sleep. She stood at her bedroom window, looking out at the darkened woods, feeling the weight of grief and responsibility pressing down on her chest. Somewhere out there, in all that wilderness, was the land Granny had protected. The land she’d now inherited.

The land she had no idea what to do with.

In the woods

The black wolf moved through the darkness like a shadow, silent and purposeful. He’d waited until full dark until he was sure he could control himself before allowing himself this one small thing.

Just a glimpse. Just to see that she was safe.

He settled at the tree line, golden eyes fixed on the house, searching the lit windows until—there. Second floor, corner room.

Elara stood at the window, silhouetted against the warm light, and even from this distance, even in wolf form, Trent could feel the weight of her sadness. It pressed against the bond like a physical ache.

Beautiful, his wolf whispered. Mate. Ours.

He wanted to howl, to call to her, to make her look at him and see—

A larger wolf appeared beside him, silent as smoke. His father’s presence in his mind was gentle but firm.

Are you okay?

Trent didn’t look away from the window. Yes, Dad. I just wanted to see her before the funeral.

You’re torturing yourself.

I know.

They stood together in silence, watching the lit window, when headlights swept up the long driveway.

Both wolves tensed.

A car pulled up to the house—something sleek and expensive, out of place in the rustic setting. The driver’s side door opened, and a young man stepped out. Tall, well-dressed, handsome in that polished city way that immediately set Trent’s hackles rising.

The front door swung open before the man could knock.

“I didn’t think you could make it!” Elara’s voice carried across the quiet night, bright with surprised happiness.

And then she was in his arms, hugging him, and—

Kissing him.

The howl tore out of Trent before he could stop it, long and anguished and utterly primal. A sound of pure, devastating heartbreak that echoed through the woods and across the fields.

At the house

Elara and the man both turned toward the sound, her body still close to his.

“What was that?” he asked, his arm still around her waist.

Elara smiled, though something in her chest had tightened at the sound—a response she didn’t understand. “Just a wolf. Come inside, Daniel.”

She pulled him into the house, but not before glancing once more at the dark tree line. For just a moment, she could have sworn she saw two pairs of eyes gleaming in the darkness.

Then they were gone.