MasukThe Sheriff is officially onto something. Trouble could be on the horizon... 🤐
NARRATIVE POV. Sheriff McKenna stood in front of his to-do list taped to the fridge, carefully ticking through the items. “Make chicken soup for Maria. Check.” He drew a straight line over the task, canceling it. “Mow the backyard and take out the trash. Check.” Another line. He paused at the next item. Join Maria at the hospital for her antenatal program. In a few seconds, he'd cancel that as well before leaving the house. The man watched the coffee maker gurgle softly, filling the kitchen with the scent of freshly brewed coffee. One mug, and he'd be ready to head out. A box filled with fruits, baked treats and a bunch of his wife’s favorite novels rested on the counter. He couldn't tell what particular book Maria was constantly reading at night, and so he'd just tossed all of them in. The thought of his wife's reaction to her collection of books drew a grin on the man's face. For what it was worth, Jamie relished being the best husband he could be. It was the one part of hi
HAYLEY“I can't believe they're still making us come to school with Christmas only two days away,” Corey moans just across from me. For what it's worth, I share her sentiment. From redecorating the house with my parents, to going Christmas shopping with Corey, I can think of a multitude of things I'd rather be doing than sitting at our lunch table this afternoon. The soggy chicken nuggets on the right side of my food tray has me wondering if the grumpy kitchen lady feels the same way about showing up to work today. “Can't we all, like, stay away from school for now?” Corey continues through a mouthful of burger. “You know, especially with the news of Mrs Jenkins's...” “Mrs Jenkins’s death,” I finish. Corey nods tensely and adjusts her glasses. I know how uneasy talk of death has made since her father's passing, so I quickly steer the conversation elsewhere. “It doesn't even look like Christmas around here.” I glance at the edge of the cafeteria, where a small, shriveled tree is m
HAYLEYRun, Hayley. Run! Fear takes root in my bones, quickening my strides as I bound through the night. Blades of grass whip past my face and my sight is a blurry mess, but I can't stop. I will not stop. The moon is faint at first, its light hidden behind a giant rock far ahead of me. But the closer I get to the boulder, the more visible the great ball of white becomes. My eyes have barely adjusted to the light filtering from above, when I hear it—them. Paws pound relentlessly behind me, the sound like an incoming earthquake. Howls emanate from the darkness beyond, and a shudder ripples across my skin. My feet skid to a halt as I approach a wide creek just ahead. Moonlight streaks down onto the water, making the river a cascade of enchanting beauty. Or death, in my case. With no other escape route in sight, I will myself to turn around in spite of my racing heart. A multitude of green eyes stare at me from the shadows, and an eerie sense of deja vu climbs up my spine. I've be
AXELWind billows past me as I sit at the porch of Shane's cabin, cold seeping through my skin. The old woman was right afterall—a storm did come. As I watch flakes of snow rain down, I can't help but wonder if she’s right about everything else. My family warred against Dreadborn. Greystone is named after us. The Lycan's sickly human form. Shane steps out onto the porch, still wearing the pensive look he's had all evening. After a few seconds of silent contemplation, he joins me where I'm seated. We sit in silence for what feels like hours, watching snow settle onto the outstretched branch of a huge mahogany tree just in front of the cabin. “Pissed that I didn't tell you all of this earlier, or just shocked,” Shane says with his gaze still fixed on the tree. “Which one are you right now?” I drag out an exhale. “Both,” I admit. “But seeing as you're an asshole, I'm kinda used to the angry bit.” That draws a small grin on his lips. Another stretch of silence settles between us, and
HAYLEYA thick curtain of snow forms on the windshield of my Dad's car as we drive home. The wipers work furiously, sweeping mounds of ice away from the glass—only for more snow to take its place. My Dad though, doesn't seem to care any bit for the snow as he belts out the lyrics to an old song playing on the stereo. “When our love was new, and each kiss an inspiration—” “Oh, God. Dad, please stop singing,” I chortle. A grin splits his face. “What's the matter? Can't stand the fact that your old man has got a melodious voice?” I roll my eyes, laughing. “Your voice is anything but melodious, Dad.” “Ouch.” My Dad clutches his chest dramatically, feigning hurt. “That's brutal.” “It's not like that,” I chuckle as we take a turn to our right, where the traffic lights at the intersection turn bright red. Slowly, our car grinds to a halt. “Let's just say, if you went for a musical competition, I wouldn't bet on you winning first place.” “So second place then?” “Err, probably not as w
AXELFuck. The image of Miles, pinned to the ground and gasping for life as an ethereal blue energy is drawn out of him, burns through my thoughts. Slowly, fear rises in my chest. “But how? Should such power even be… possible?”“It shouldn't be,” the old woman admits. “Power like that is impossible to wolves like you and I. But Dreadborn is not like you and I. One of the last living Primordials, his natural strength surpasses that of an average wolf. Now, he's found a way to harness the corruption in him as a form of otherworldly energy.” “Reverse engineering,” Shane explains. “Basically, he's infusing the corruption in his body to other wolves, and draining their life in return.” Beads of sweat streak down my skin as I fold my palms tightly. Whatever hope I held for defeating the Lycan dwindles drastically with every passing second. Shane was right from the jump: We don't stand a chance. We never did.With every answered question though, the fog of ignorance at everything I didn't
NARRATIVE POV. Sheriff McKenna stood in front of the house listed on the card in his hand, checking the number to be sure he had the right place. 1388 Moonstone Drive, Greystone, CA 09101. He looked up at the burgundy cobblestone cottage, sitting alone in the middle of what felt like no man’s
NARRATIVE POV. Sheriff McKenna knew something was wrong the moment the police office landline rang more than once that night. Their small town rarely saw enough trouble to trigger multiple calls—at least not until recently. Not until the damned murder in the woods over a month ago. And now, h
AXEL. I swallow hard as a rush of panic burns through my veins. Dreadborn is here. And if Shane's words at the cliff meant anything, I'm the reason it’s been drawn here. Hayley stops her narration and arches a brow, noting the shift in my demeanor. “Ax, are you all right?” But I hardly he
AXEL I’d already suspected it, but hearing Shane confirm it in a hushed voice sends a shiver racing through me. There’s another werewolf on the field. And I know who it is. I glance at brown-haired Conor, huddled with the rest of the Ridgeclaw boys as their coach gives instructions, then I tur







