The fog draped Silver Hollow like a shroud, choking the
forest in a cold, gray haze. Lira Kane tugged her leather jacket tight, her
boots crunching on the muddy path. At twenty-five, she was a half-witch, her
blood cursed with magic that flickered like a dying match. Five years ago, that
magic had exploded, killing a werewolf from Zane Blackwood's pack. Now, Silver
Hollow called her a killer, and she was done fighting the label. But running
wasn't an option—not when her curse tied her to this cursed town.
Her breath puffed white in the chilly air as she hurried
toward her shack on the town's edge. The forest was too quiet tonight, the kind
of silence that screamed danger. Her fingers twitched, magic humming under her
skin, ready to spark. Zane's pack forbade her from using it, their claws
backing his orders, but Lira had never been big on rules. Not since they'd
branded her an outcast.
A growl ripped through the fog. Four pairs of yellow eyes
glowed, circling closer. Rogue werewolves, their matted fur reeking of blood
and rot. Lira's heart slammed against her ribs, but she flashed a smirk,
masking her fear. "Wrong night to mess with me, mutts."
The biggest rogue charged, claws slashing for her throat.
Lira dove left, rolling through wet leaves. Her magic surged, hot and wild in
her veins. She thrust her hand out, and a blast of blue fire roared from her
palm, smashing the rogue into a pine. It crashed with a yelp, fur charred, but
the other three pounced. Lira scrambled up, snatching a jagged branch as a
club. She swung hard, cracking one rogue's jaw with a sickening crunch. Another
lunged, its fangs snapping inches from her face. She ducked, but its claws tore
her arm, blood soaking her sleeve.
"Back off!" Lira shouted, magic flaring again. A second
fireburst blasted two rogues back, their howls echoing as they hit the dirt.
But the leader was up, shaking off her attack, and the fourth rogue circled,
eyes glinting with hunger. Lira's arm burned, her magic sputtering like a
drained battery. She gripped the branch tighter, legs shaking. She couldn't
take them all.
A thunderous roar split the night. A massive black wolf
leaped from the fog, tackling the lead rogue. Claws and fangs tore through fur,
blood spraying as the wolf ripped its throat out. The other rogues snarled,
lunging at the newcomer, but it was too fast. It spun, slashing one rogue's
flank, then crushed the other's skull with a snap of its jaws. The last rogue
bolted, tail low, vanishing into the trees.
Lira's chest heaved, blood dripping from her arm, the branch
still raised. The black wolf turned, golden eyes piercing her. She knew those
eyes—Zane Blackwood's eyes, haunting her nightmares for years. The wolf
shimmered, fur melting into skin, until the pack alpha stood before her,
six-foot-three, shirtless, and radiating fury. His dark hair fell over a
scarred brow, his jaw clenched as he glared.
"You're bleeding, Kane," Zane growled, his voice rough as
gravel. "And using magic. My rules mean nothing to you, do they?"
Lira tightened her grip on the branch, sarcasm her only
shield. "You're welcome for the fireworks, Alpha. I was handling it."
Zane stepped closer, his scent—pine and leather—hitting her
like a slap. Her stomach twisted, and she hated it. Hated him. He'd banished
her, called her a murderer, turned Silver Hollow into her cage. But his heat,
so close, made her skin buzz, and that made her blood boil.
"You don't belong here," he said, eyes narrowing to slits.
"Your curse killed my brother. You're a walking disaster."
Guilt clawed her gut, sharp and raw. She hadn't meant to kill
anyone—her magic had just erupted, unstoppable. But Zane didn't care about
apologies. "If I'm so dangerous, why'd you save me?" Lira snapped, stepping
into his space, chin high. "Feeling soft, Blackwood?"
His jaw ticked, something flickering in his eyes—not hate,
but close. "I protect my land. Even from trash like you."
Her laugh was sharp, cutting. "Trash? You're the one snarling
like a rabid dog."
Zane's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. Not rough, but firm
enough to stop her breath. Her pulse raced, magic sparking at his touch, a blue
glow flaring between them. Zane's eyes widened, just a flash, before he dropped
her wrist like it burned. "Stay out of my woods," he said, voice ice-cold.
"Next time, the rogues can have you."
Lira yanked her arm back, ignoring the ache in her chest.
"Fine. I don't need your pack—or you."
She turned, blood dripping, ready to limp home. But a rustle
in the fog stopped her cold. The trees shook, branches snapping like bones.
Zane tensed, his growl low. "Kane, move!"
Too late. A pack of rogues—six this time—burst from the mist,
bigger than the first, their eyes wild with bloodlust. Lira cursed, magic
flaring as she swung her branch. One rogue lunged, and she blasted it with
fire, but another tackled her, pinning her to the ground. Its claws dug into
her shoulder, pain blinding. She screamed, magic surging, and a wild burst
threw the rogue off, singeing its fur.
Zane shifted mid-leap, his wolf form tearing into the pack.
He ripped one rogue's throat out, blood soaking the dirt, but two more piled on
him, claws slashing his flank. Lira staggered up, arm useless, and hurled a
firebolt at one, giving Zane a chance to break free. He roared, crushing
another rogue's spine, but the remaining three circled, snarling.
"Run, witch!" Zane barked, human again, blood streaming from
his side.
Lira's legs shook, but she wasn't leaving him to die. "Not my
style, Alpha." She raised her good hand, magic sputtering, and blasted a
rogue's face. It howled, blinded, but the last two charged her. Zane tackled
one, but the other's claws swiped her leg, dropping her to her knees.
A human scream pierced the fog, sharp and desperate, from the
town's edge. Lira's heart stopped—Mira, her best friend, was at the bar
tonight, not far from her shack. Fear hit harder than the claws. She pushed up,
blood pooling, magic barely a flicker.
Zane's head snapped toward the scream, his body coiled.
"That's my border," he growled, wiping blood from his lip. He shot Lira a hard
look. "Stay here, Kane. You're done causing trouble."
Lira's jaw clenched. Mira was in danger, and no alpha was
sidelining her. "Screw you, Zane. That's my friend." She staggered after him,
ignoring his snarl, pain screaming in her arm and leg.
The fog thickened, swallowing the path, but another scream
echoed, closer. Lira's magic pulsed, weak but stubborn, as she broke through
the trees. The bar's neon sign flickered, half-smashed, glass littering the
ground. Mira's voice choked off, replaced by a low, guttural laugh.
Zane stopped dead, his growl rumbling like thunder. Lira
caught up, breath ragged, and saw it—a shadow in the fog, taller than any wolf,
with glowing red eyes. Not a rogue. Not even a werewolf. Its claws gleamed,
long as knives, and its laugh froze her blood.
Lira's magic flared, lighting the night, but the creature
turned, its gaze locking on her. Zane's roar shook the air, but the thing
moved—fast, too fast—slashing toward them. Lira raised her hand, magic fading,
and Zane's claws flashed, but the creature's laugh echoed, cold and inhuman, as
it vanished into the fog.