Chapter Two
CHAPTER TWO
I woke up to the sound of howling.
It wasn't the distant, lonely cry of a wolf on some faraway ridge. It was close, deep, guttural, and wrong. The sound echoed through the trees, slipping through the cracks of my cabin like a whispered warning. It didn’t sound like it belonged to any normal creature. It sounded… aware.
I bolted upright in bed, heart hammering against my ribcage. The thin blanket tangled around my legs as I scrambled for the edge of the mattress. Moonlight poured through the window, casting silver patterns across the floor. The forest outside shimmered, the branches swaying as if whispering secrets to one another.
Then, a flicker of movement.
A shadow shifted between the trees, too fast, too smooth. My breath caught.
The howling stopped.
But the silence that followed was worse. It was heavy, unnatural. The kind of silence that presses in around you, as if holding its breath.
I sat frozen, every muscle in my body tight with dread. My skin prickled with that same eerie feeling from earlier, like something was watching me. Judging me. Choosing me.
I squeezed my eyes shut. It’s just the wilderness. Just wolves.
But deep down, something inside me whispered back, No, it’s not.
By morning, the strange heaviness hadn’t lifted. I hadn’t really slept. My head throbbed and my eyes felt raw, but staying in the cabin was worse. I needed noise. People. Anything that would pull me back to normal.
Duskwood was small, small enough that the entire town felt like one long, winding street. The air was brisk as I walked, the scent of pine and damp earth clinging to the breeze. The quiet wasn’t peaceful; it was watchful.
As I neared the town square, something felt off.
People stared at me. Not in a curious, newcomer kind of way. Their eyes were wary now, distant. A few whispered. One man across the street tugged his child closer to him as I passed.
My heart dropped. What had changed overnight?
Trying to shake off the creeping unease, I ducked into the bookstore I’d seen yesterday. A worn wooden sign hung above the door, swaying slightly. Help Wanted. Perfect.
A bell jingled as I stepped inside. The scent of old pages and cedar hit me instantly.
Then I froze.
It was her again, the woman from the grocery store.
She was behind the counter, a thick book spread open in front of her. Her eyes lifted to mine and she gave a small smile, like she’d been expecting me.
“Did you sleep?” she asked casually.
I frowned, thrown off. “Not really.”
She nodded and snapped the book shut. “Figured.”
“You work here too, or…?” I asked, trying not to sound suspicious.
“My dad owned it. I'm running it now.” She gestured around the room. “Best place to be if you're curious about Duskwood. This place has been in my family for generations.”
“Nice,” I replied flatly, not exactly interested in her family history.
She didn’t seem offended. “I know you’re here because of the sign outside.”
“Yeah.”
“We’ve never hired strangers,” she said, tilting her head. “But you don’t seem like a stranger.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Thanks, I think?”
She smiled and handed me a set of old keys. “Closing time’s 6 p.m. sharp. We do not stay out late in Duskwood.”
Her tone made it clear that wasn’t just a preference. It was a rule.
I hesitated. “What’s that?” I asked, glancing at the book she had closed earlier. Just before it shut, I thought I saw something on the page, a sketch that made my stomach twist.
She turned it around slowly.
A wolf with golden eyes stared up from the page. It was just an illustration, but something about it made my blood run cold.
“Do you believe in legends, Lia?” she asked, voice low.
I scoffed, trying to shake off the chill. “What kind of legends?”
She didn’t answer at first. Instead, she leaned closer, eyes studying mine. “Duskwood isn’t like other towns,” she said carefully.
I crossed my arms. “I figured that out already.”
She nodded. “The Nolan family runs things here. People don’t cross them.”
“Like a Mafia thing?”
“No,” she said. “It’s more than that. They’re different.”
I tilted my head. “Why is everyone acting like they’re gods?”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Because Edgar’s family has a pack.”
“A pack of what?”
She didn’t blink. “Werewolves.”
I stared at her, stunned. “Excuse me?”
She shook her head and stood abruptly. “Forget I said anything. Just be careful. Don’t come out at night. No matter what you hear.”
I tried to press her for more, but she turned away, clearly done with the conversation.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. Again.
I sat on the bed wrapped in a blanket, the book of local legends open on my lap. My eyes kept drifting to the wolf illustration, the same golden-eyed beast from earlier.
The wind whispered through the trees outside, brushing against the walls of the cabin like fingers. I turned off the lamp, trying to focus, to breathe.
Then I heard it.
A low, guttural growl.
Not far. Close.
Too close.
My breath hitched. I turned slowly toward the window, heart in my throat.
And there they were.
Golden eyes, glowing faintly in the dark.
Watching me from just beyond the treeline.
My whole body froze. My breath caught. The blanket slipped from my shoulders.
Then gone.
Just like that, the eyes disappeared into the night. A rustle. A snapped twig. Something, or someone, was walking away.
My mother’s voice echoed in my head like a scream from the past.
“Never go into the woods.”
My heart pounded like a drum.
I wasn’t just being watched anymore.
I was being hunted.