Chapter Five – Between Two Wolves
1001 Words
Vee did not sleep. Not after the woods. Not after the way Rio’s eyes had burned through her as though he saw every secret she had ever tried to bury.
Each time her lids grew heavy, his face appeared in the darkness, half boy, half wolf, a dangerous contradiction that had no place in reality. His voice haunted her too, deep and certain, whispering across her memory like a curse. You are marked.
By the time dawn painted the horizon, her arm throbbed with a relentless heat. Beneath her sleeve, the skin felt raw, as though flames licked just beneath the surface. She pressed her arm against her ribs, willing the sensation to fade. Nothing helped.
Downstairs, Mrs. Carter clattered pans in the kitchen, her disapproval as heavy as the smell of burnt toast. When Vee passed through, the woman’s scowl was sharp enough to slice through her thin defenses. She ignored it. She always ignored it. Words with Mrs. Carter never ended well.
The school hallways were worse. Voices carried like insects buzzing in her ears, snippets of gossip darting from one student to the next.
“They found another body.”
“Half-eaten, they said.”
“Not an animal. Not anything normal.”
The whispers clung to her no matter how fast she walked, chasing her down the corridor until she reached her locker. She twisted her combination with shaking fingers, silently begging for the world to shut up, for one moment of quiet.
“Vee.”
The sound froze her mid-motion. A low voice, controlled yet edged with urgency.
She turned.
Ted leaned against the lockers, tall and steady, but his calmness was only a mask. His eyes carried storms. Even in human form, his Beta presence pressed against her like static, heavy and undeniable.
“We need to talk,” he said, his tone not asking but demanding.
She faced her locker again, making an effort to look indifferent. “About what?”
“You went into the woods.”
Her chest constricted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.” He pushed off the locker and closed the space between them. His voice dropped low enough that only she could hear. “Don’t lie to me. You don’t understand what you’ve walked into. That mark”
She cut him off quickly, her pulse jumping. “You mean the scratches?”
His gaze flickered to her sleeve, sharp and knowing. “It is not just scratches. It is a claim.”
The word rooted itself in her bones, heavy and cold. Claim.
Before she could demand an explanation, footsteps echoed down the hall. A deliberate rhythm.
Melissa.
She strutted toward them, her sneer already in place. “Of course,” she said with mock sweetness, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Caught in a corner with another boy. You really do not waste time, do you?”
Vee’s throat tightened, her body going rigid.
Melissa smirked wider, her voice rising enough for passing students to hear. “Do you know what my mom says? That your real dad wasn’t the saint everyone pretends he was. He was in trouble. The kind that destroys families. Guess you are just like him.”
Laughter rippled from those nearby, cruel and quick, and it burned worse than any claws could.
Vee slammed her locker shut with a metallic crack and shouldered past them both before the tears could fall. Her vision blurred, but she refused to give Melissa the satisfaction of seeing her break.
By evening, the house felt like a prison. Mrs. Carter’s sharp glances cut across the dinner table. Melissa’s fake giggles floated down the hallway, sticky with triumph. Ethan’s worried eyes followed Vee silently, but even his quiet concern became another weight pressing against her ribs.
She retreated to her room and locked the door. The thin wood was her only shield.
Collapsing onto the bed, she dragged her sleeve up, finally daring to look.
Her breath caught.
The marks were no longer red and raw. Instead, they shimmered faintly, a silver light that seemed to pulse with a rhythm not her own. Like moonlight etched into her flesh.
“What is happening to me?” she whispered, voice trembling.
The room answered with a sound she did not want to hear.
A slow creak.
Her head snapped toward the window.
It was not the wind. She knew the sound of the wind. This was deliberate, the groan of metal straining as the latch shifted little by little.
Her pulse surged.
The window inched open.
“Ethan?” she whispered, though every part of her already knew it was not him.
No reply.
The curtains stirred, though the air felt wrong, too cold, too still. Then a voice slid through, softer than breath, weaving into her bones like smoke.
Run.
Her body locked. The word echoed inside her skull, not spoken aloud but seared into her being.
The window slammed shut with a force that rattled the glass.
Vee stumbled backward and hit the dresser, sending a cascade of books to the floor. Pages fanned out across the carpet, but she hardly noticed. Her eyes never left the dark pane of the window. She half expected glowing eyes to appear in the reflection, some beast waiting to drag her into the night.
Nothing came.
Only her own reflection stared back, pale and terrified.
She slid down the dresser until she was sitting on the floor, her knees hugged tight against her chest. Her lungs dragged in shallow, broken breaths as though the air itself resisted entering her body.
One thought remained, beating louder than her pulse, echoing against the walls of her skull.
She was not safe here. Not in this house. Not with Melissa’s taunts or Mrs. Carter’s glares or Ethan’s worried silences. Not with windows that opened on their own and voices that spoke without sound.
Something had marked her. Something had claimed her. And it was coming.
- Writer
