Chapter 3 BETWEEN WOLVES

As Emilia slammed the door shut behind her, her breath came in ragged gasps. Her chest heaved, her heart pounding like a drum caught in a storm. Sweat clung to her skin. Her hands trembled as they hovered near the doorknob. She hadn't seen it, not clearly, but something about the wolf... the way it moved... something flickered just before her mind went blank.

She didn't know it had been Asher. She hadn't seen him shift. Fear had gripped her too tightly.

She slid to the floor, her back against the door. Her fingers curled into her cardigan as the images replayed in her head... claws, glowing eyes, snarls. Her body trembled as if still feeling the shockwaves. Her breath hitched, and she covered her mouth to stifle a sob.

From the couch, her grandfather bolted upright.

"Sweetie? What happened?"

Her grandmother stirred from the other room, voice heavy with sleep. "Is everything alright?"

"Wolves," Emilia managed, her voice a whisper as she struggled to steady it. "I saw wolves... fighting. Right outside."

Her grandfather's expression hardened. He moved fast, crossing the room in three strides. He crouched under a shelf and pulled out a shotgun.

"Stay here. Don't come out until I say so," he said, already checking the barrel.

Emilia nodded silently, hugging herself.

She watched from the window as her grandfather stepped out into the night. The moon cast long shadows across the field. He circled the area, his flashlight sweeping through the dark. A few minutes later, he returned, brow furrowed.

"There's nothing out there," he said, setting the gun aside. "No sign of wolves. No blood. Nothing."

Emilia's breath caught in her throat. Did I imagine it? But the fear still coiled tight in her chest, and she kept glancing at the door as if expecting something or someone to come bursting through it.

"Try to get some sleep, sweetie," her grandfather added gently. "It's late."

"Okay... goodnight," she said softly, turning toward her room, though her mind raced.

That night, sleep did not come easily.

Next day,

Morning light spilled through the blinds as Detective Nolan sipped his coffee, eyes locked on the file spread before him. The photos, reports, scribbled notes... he'd gone over them too many times.

Martha entered, setting her bag down.

"Morning," she greeted, settling across from him. "You look like you didn't sleep."

"Didn't," Nolan replied. "I think there's a link between this case and the others."

She raised a brow. "What kind of link?"

"The fur. It's strange. Unclassified. Still waiting on the lab results, but I've seen something like it before."

Martha pulled out her notebook. "You think it's from some kind of hybrid? Something exotic?"

"Could be. But then why attack a family on a highway? Why leave no trace?" His jaw tightened. "And how did Max's Rutherford's body end up ten meters from the wreck while Emilia was found unconscious outside the car?"

She leaned closer. "You think someone pulled them out?"

"Or something. I'm starting to see a pattern. The same gaps. The same lack of suspects. And wounds... identical across cases."

Martha tapped her pen. "You think it's the same entity?"

"I think we've been circling something for years," Nolan said. "And it's circling us back."

Meanwhile,

Emilia woke to the sound of birds outside her window. For a moment, everything felt normal. Then it all came rushing back.

She sat up slowly. The images from the night before still danced behind her eyes.. snarling jaws, slashing claws, that terrible moment of stillness before the wolf looked at her. She needed air. She needed to be sure.

Slipping on her shoes, she stepped outside. The morning air was cool and crisp. Dew clung to the grass as she walked toward the place where it had happened.

But when she arrived, there was nothing. No blood. No fur. Just patches of flattened grass.

She stood still, unsure whether to feel relieved or unnerved. As she turned to head back, movement near the crops caught her eye.

Asher.

He was tending to the garden, sleeves rolled up, hair tousled. The morning light caught in his dark curls. She watched the way his muscles flexed as he moved, the calm focus in his posture. There was a scratch on his forearm, thin and red, like a thorn or... something else.

Then he looked up.

Their eyes met.

He smiled.

"Hey," she called out, trying to sound casual. "Need some help?"

He shook his head. "I'm good. But thanks."

She crossed her arms, lingering a bit longer. "You're doing a great job. Green thumb, huh?"

He chuckled. "I guess. Working with plants helps me think."

Emilia smiled, more genuinely this time. "I get that. You're... good with your hands."

Asher paused, his expression flickering just slightly. Then he smiled again.

"Thanks. I do, try."

She hadn't planned to talk to him, but now she didn't want to leave.

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, the breeze rustling the leaves around them.

Then something shifted.

The wind stilled. Birds stopped singing. The air grew unnaturally quiet. Even the trees seemed to lean in.

Emilia turned her head.

A rustling sound, soft, steady, approached from the woods. Dry leaves crackled under slow footsteps.

Even the insects had gone still. The breeze stopped like it was holding its breath. Asher didn't speak. His jaw clenched, eyes fixed ahead. Emilia could feel it, something was wrong.

"Emilia," Asher said quietly. "You should go inside."

His eyes didn't leave the tree line.

A figure emerged, a tall, lean man with shoulder-length hair and a crooked smile. His presence seemed to pull the warmth out of the air.

"Who's that?" Emilia asked, her skin prickling.

Asher's jaw tightened. "Victor."

Victor stopped just beyond the field's edge. "Hello, Asher," he said, his voice gravelly and laced with amusement.

Two more figures stepped out behind him, mirroring his expressionless stare.

"Look what we have here," Victor added, eyes drifting to Emilia.

She froze.

His gaze sent a chill through her. There was something familiar about his eyes, something that made her stomach twist.

Asher stepped in front of her.

Victor didn't blink. "Funny. She looks... familiar."

The two men behind him began to shift. Their fingers contorted, stretching into clawed shapes. Their eyes began to glow, faint and unnatural. Victor's grin faded into a snarl.

Emilia's breath caught in her throat.

Whatever peace she'd found that morning shattered in an instant as Victor's companions took an offensive stance.