The Pinehaven Secrets

My phone buzzed on the counter like a threat.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Welcome to Pinehaven. We should talk.

My stomach clenched. No one was supposed to know I was here yet.

Another message flashed up.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Don’t be scared. I’m a friend. Or I could be. But this town has rules, and you need to know them before you break any.

I typed back fast, my wolf already bristling under my skin.

ME: Who the hell is this?

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Someone who knows exactly who you are and what you are. Meet me tomorrow at the Morning Moon Café, 9 AM. Come alone.

ME: How do I know you’re not a threat?

UNKNOWN NUMBER: If I wanted to hurt you, I already would have. You’ve been in town four hours. Apartment 47 Maple Street, unit 3C. Your son is asleep in the room with the glow-in-the-dark stars. You’re wearing that blue sweater right now.

I spun toward the window and yanked the curtain shut. The sweater—my mother’s last gift before she died—hung over the back of the chair exactly where I’d left it. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: 9 AM. Corner booth. And Sera—whatever you do, don’t go into the woods north of town after dark. Not until we talk.

The messages stopped.

I spent the next thirty minutes checking every lock twice, pulling curtains tight, and trying not to panic. Someone was watching us. Someone who knew way too much.

Part of me wanted to throw our bags back in the car and run again. But I was bone-tired of running.

I finally crawled into bed around two, but sleep kept slipping away. Every creak in the hallway, every car that passed outside jerked me awake. My wolf stayed wired, pacing inside me, refusing to settle since that silver-eyed monster on the highway.

At 3 AM I gave up, padded barefoot to the kitchen, and stared out the window over the sink. The Northwood Forest lay black and silent in the distance.

A flicker of movement caught my eye.

Silver eyes stared straight back at me from the tree line.

The massive black wolf stood completely still, watching my window like he’d been waiting for me to look. Power rolled off him—thick, electric, pressing against my skin like static right before a storm. It made my teeth ache and my pulse thunder. Nothing about him felt natural. He carried centuries in those shoulders, and something darker.

My wolf exploded forward, snarling, but not with fear. With raw, painful hunger. *Follow him,* she growled. *He’s different. Stronger. Ours.*

The feeling slammed into me harder than anything I’d ever felt with Damien. Wilder. Wrong in all the right ways. Like the fraying bond with my old mate was suddenly a weak string trying to hold me back from something I was never meant to resist.

“Absolutely not,” I hissed out loud. “We are not following some creepy forest wolf. That’s how people die.”

But the hook in my chest stayed there, tugging.

I forced myself back to bed and lay rigid under the blankets until morning, pretending I didn’t feel any of it.

---

By eight-thirty I’d fed Ezra, dressed him, and dropped him off with Mrs. Ravenna in 2B. The old lady melted the second she saw his gap-toothed smile. Good enough for now.

The Morning Moon Café smelled like fresh coffee and warm pastries—normal, safe, human. I spotted her immediately: corner booth, silver-streaked dark hair, flannel shirt. Her eyes flicked up and flashed gold for half a second.

Alpha energy. Strong.

I walked over and stood tall, shoulders back, letting my own wolf rise just enough to push back. I might be running, but I used to be a Luna. I wasn’t about to cower.

“Sera Thorne,” she said, not a question. “Sit. Coffee?”

I slid into the booth across from her. “You’re the one who texted.”

“I am.” She poured from the French press without asking. “Margaret Ashwood. I look after things around here for everyone who isn’t fully human.”

“And you know what I am… how?”

“Your scent hit town five seconds after you crossed the line. Small community. We notice new wolves.” She slid the mug toward me. “Especially ones that smell like fresh heartbreak and barely-leashed rage. You’re running from something. Or someone.”

I wrapped my hands around the warm mug but didn’t drink. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”

“Never said you were.” Margaret leaned back and studied me. “But trouble follows our kind. So here’s how it works in Pinehaven. Neutral territory for seventy years. No pack owns it. No Alpha rules it. We’ve got humans, a few wolves, a witch coven on the east side, and even a vampire who runs the bookstore—polite guy, only drinks bagged blood.”

I raised an eyebrow. “A vampire.”

“Rule one: no hunting humans. Rule two: no outing yourself to the normals. Rule three: no pack wars or territory fights inside town limits. Take your drama outside the borders.”

“I just want to raise my son in peace.”

“Good.” Her face got serious. “Then you won’t have a problem with rule four. Stay the hell out of Northwood Forest. Especially after dark.”

There it was again.

“Why?” I asked, meeting her eyes. “What’s in those woods?”