Eleanor P.O.V
(At Age Sixteen)
The night air was thick with exhaustion. I dragged myself out the back door of Mile's restaurant, every limb aching from hours of work. School had been brutal, followed by back-to-back shifts at two different restaurants. The constant stream of customers had drained me, and all I wanted was to collapse. But sleep never came easy, not in this damn city, not with the weight I carried.
New York was a never-ending struggle. A year ago, my father and I had left everything behind. Or rather, everything had been ripped away. When I woke up, I was in a small apartment in New York, my father watching over me with a hollow, distant expression.
I tried asking him, but his grief was like a wall . Losing my mother shattered us both, but while I clung to what remained of our family, my father shut down. The warmth, the love, it all disappeared. He withdrew, drowned his sorrows in alcohol, and stopped looking me in the eye. When I was fourteen, he abandoned even the responsibility of providing for me. Now, at sixteen, I had not seen him in six months.
But I never forgot the man who stole everything from me, who killed my mother in cold blood while my father and I stood there, helpless. The memory burned in my veins. No one could understand the agony of watching the most important person in your life die, knowing her killer was still out there, living his life without consequence.
I clenched the steering wheel as I pulled out of the parking lot, forcing the thoughts away. But I couldn't escape them. After my mother's death, I became obsessed with the truth. Werewolves. They were not just myths. My mother had been one of them. And today at my sixteenth birthday her blood inside me would awaken.
Except I was not just a wolf. I was something worse ,a hunter werewolf hybrid that makes everything complicate.
Werewolves and hunters had been enemies for centuries. If I had a mate, would he accept me? Or would he feel the hunter inside me and cast me aside? My parents had defied their laws to be together, but it had cost everything. If the wolves knew what I was, they'd kill me.
As I parked my car in the garage, unease settled in my chest. The air felt wrong, charged with something I could not name. I stepped into the elevator, heart pounding harder with every floor. By the time I reached my apartment, my skin tingles like unseen eyes were watching me.
I reached for my keys, but the moment I pushed them into the lock, I froze.
The door was already open.
A cold wave of anxiety raised inside me. My palms turned clammy. I had not left it unlocked when I left.
Swallowing hard, I kicked off my shoes outside the door and crept inside. The apartment was silent, but I was not alone.
I grabbed a ceramic vase from the shoe cabinet, my grip tight as I stepped toward the living room. My instincts flared when I caught a scent I had not smelled in six years with my father.
The vase slipped from my fingers, shattering against the floor. My eyes locked onto the man lounging on my couch, smug as ever. My father stood beside him, head bowed, silent.
I barely looked at my father. My focus was on Jonathan.
He hadn't changed. The same arrogance, the same cold smirk. His dark eyes studied me like I was nothing more than a piece on his chessboard. The sight of him was like tearing open an old wound, the one that never truly healed.
Hatred surged through me. I had imagined this moment for years. What I would say. What I would do. But standing here now, my body vibrated with fury so intense it nearly choked me. My nails bit into my palms as I fought the urge to lunge.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
His smirk widened. "Now, Eleanor. Is that any way to greet family?"
Rage burned in my throat. "You are no family to me. You're a murderer." My voice cracked. "You killed my mother. Why have you come here? What the hell do you want?"
He rose from the couch, stalking toward me.
"What do I want?" His eyes gleamed. "Your wolf."
My breath caught.
"Your father made a deal," he continued, voice smooth, mocking. "When you shift, we'll take you to the facility and remove the wolf inside you. Then, you'll become what you were truly meant to be, a hunter."
My chest tightened, I turned to my father, searching for denial. Anything.
But all I saw was guilt.
"Tell me it's not true." My voice barely came out. "Tell me you didn't betray us." An emotion passed through his eyes but his expression did not change .
All of a sudden I felt a sharp pain in my neck. My vision blurred. My body crumpled. Darkness swallowed me whole.
At The Faculty In New York
A dull, throbbing pain spread from my temples to the base of my skull as I drifted into consciousness. My body felt impossibly heavy, pinned to a cold, hard surface. A crushing weight pressed on my chest, making each breath a struggle. Every attempt to move sent pain jolting through me.
Blinking against the dim light, my blurred vision slowly adjusted. The sterile white walls were bare, the high ceiling looming above me. The air was thick with a sharp, antiseptic scent, suffocating and heavy. My fingers dug into the mattress as I fought the dizziness clouding my mind.
I turned my head, scanning the small, windowless room. The only exit was a heavy door on the far side. Unease curled in my stomach, crawling up my spine.
Where was I? Who had brought me here?
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to remember. My last clear memory was yelling at my father, anger burning hot in my chest. Then… nothing.
One name surfaced.Jonathan. He was there before everything went dark.
I tried to sit up, but my limbs ached, my head swam. Walking to the door felt like trudging through quicksand. My fingers trembled as I gripped the knob and twisted. It was locked.
A tightness curled around my chest. Swallowing hard, I turned back and sank onto the mattress, breath unsteady.
I did not know where I was. But one thing stood out. It had to be his doing.
I took a shaky breath as my headache worsened, pressure building at my temples. Pain shot through my limbs, my muscles spasming. Clenching my jaw, I swallowed a whimper.
A faint shuffle outside the door sent ice through my veins. I quickly lay back down, shutting my eyes just as the door creaked open.
Even with my eyes closed, I could sense them,looming near the foot of the mattress. I forced myself to breathe evenly, to remain still.
"Did you bring everything I asked for?"
The voice belonged to a woman.
I dared to crack my eyes open just enough to see them. Jonathan stood to the left, expression unreadable, his gaze fixed on me. Beside him was my father. My stomach clenched painfully at the sight of him, and then, there was a woman.
She was unlike anyone I had seen. Her pale skin revealed a web of blue-green veins. Frosted green eyes, a sharp nose, and thin lips gave her an eerie presence. Light brown hair, streaked with shimmering green, cascaded down her back. She was unnaturally thin, draped in a flowing black dress. A worn leather bag hung from her shoulder, and she clutched old tomes, as if pulled from a forbidden archive.
But my gaze was drawn to the mark on her hand, an infinity symbol burned into her pale skin. A witch.
Jonathan simply nodded at her words, and she placed the books and bag onto the floor before turning to face him fully.
"Bring the candles and a silver dagger," she instructed, her shrill voice sending a chill down my spine. "Take this collar and chains. Put the silver collar on her neck and chain her hands to the wall."
Jonathan turned to my father and spoke, his voice devoid of any emotion. "Bring everything she asked for."
I felt the air shift as he approached me. I wanted to fight. The moment the silver collar clasped around my neck, searing pain erupted along my skin. I clenched my teeth, trying to suppress a cry, but when he chained my wrists to the wall, the agony became unbearable. My body jerked forward, a strangled scream tearing from my throat. The pain was unbearable, every nerve in my body screaming in protest.
"Wake up."
I gasped for air, my chest heaving. My vision blurred with unshed tears as I saw them setting up candles around my bed. The witch muttered something under her breath, and suddenly, the candles ignited all at once. Flames flickered, casting eerie shadows in the room. She sat in front of me, opening one of her books, her fingers tracing over the inked symbols.
I yanked at the chains, desperate to free myself. But the more I pulled, the tighter they became.
"Ah! Let me go!" My voice cracked, desperation clawing at my throat. "What are you going to do to me? Dad, why are you with them? Are you really going to stand with the ones who killed Mom?"
I searched my father's face for something,remorse, regret, anything. But he only turned his gaze away, his silence a cruel confirmation.
That was the moment I knew.
I would never forgive him.
Then, he spoke, his voice void of emotion. "Then it's good that she's dead."
His words sliced through me like a blade, the betrayal cutting deeper than any wound. My fingers trembled as I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to block out the pain. But it only got worse.
The flames above me began to shift, intertwining in the air until they formed a fiery star symbol. The heat from it licked at my skin, a constant reminder of the horror unfolding before me.
I struggled harder, trying to twist my body away, but it was useless.
The witch continued chanting, her voice rising in an eerie melody of an unknown language. She reached for a small bowl filled with a thick, black liquid. Beside it, a silver dagger gleamed under the candlelight.
A wave of panic crashed over me.
"What are you going to do to me?" My voice was barely a whisper now. My body convulsed, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
Jonathan finally answered.
"We're going to kill your wolf.
No, no, no.
A choked sob escaped me. "Please… please don't do this. My wolf, it's the only thing I have left of my mother."
I turned to my father one last time, desperate for him to stop this.
"Dad, please… if Mom were here, she would never let this happen. Please, don't let him destroy what's left of us."
For a brief moment, I saw something flicker in his eyes . He took a step forward, his fists clenched. But then Jonathan looked at him.
And just like that, he turned away, his face blank. Without a word, he left.
Something in me broke.
Tears streamed down my cheeks, but I refused to let them hear me cry.
Suddenly, my body seized in agony. A scream tore from my throat as my bones cracked, twisting unnaturally. My skin crawled, shifting, stretching. My spine arched, forcing me onto all fours. Brown fur sprouted across
my arms and legs. My nails sharpened into claws, my teeth elongating into fangs.
Then, just as I gained my full wolf form, the silver chains snapped.