One - The Accident

Althea's P.O.V

The rain started just as I left the city limits, and I knew immediately this drive was going to be a disaster.

Not because of the weather though. That didn't help. Not even because I was driving alone at night on roads I didn't know. But because the tightness in my chest had been getting worse for the past hour, and I was running out of ways to pretend it wasn't happening.

My fingers tightened on the steering wheel as another wave of pressure spread across my ribs.

Not quite painful. Just this constant reminder that the heart beating inside my chest wasn't technically mine. That it had belonged to someone else first.

Someone who had died one year ago so that I could sit here in this car, ignoring warning signs my body was practically screaming at me.

I should have rescheduled this trip, should've listened to Mom when she had said it was too far to drive alone and should have listened to Dr. Morrison when he had raised his eyebrows at my travel plans and asked if I had considered the stress factors.

But I was stubborn. I always have been. Even when stubbornness was objectively stupid.

So here I was, two hours from home on a dark forest road, while my transplanted heart did its best impression of a car engine that was about to give out.

Great decisions all around, Althea.

The GPS on my phone showed another hour and forty minutes to my destination. A little cabin rental I had booked for the weekend in an attempt to clear my head and figure out what I was doing with my life.

Twenty-two years old and I still had no idea. College dropout because of medical complications. No career prospects because who wanted to hire someone who might need emergency surgery at any moment? Living with my parents because I couldn't afford my own place on the part-time retail salary I pulled in between doctor's appointments.

The transplant had saved my life. But sometimes I wondered what kind of life it had actually saved.

Stop it, I told myself firmly. That kind of thinking helped no one.

The least I could do was actually live. Make it mean something.

Even if right now, "living" meant driving through a rainstorm while my chest felt like it was slowly being crushed in a vise.

The headlights cut through sheets of rain revealing nothing but trees on either side of the road. Endless forest stretching into darkness. There were no houses and no other cars. Just me and the woods and this growing sense that I had made a terrible mistake.

My hand pressed against my chest, trying to ease the pressure.

"Come on!" I whispered to the heart that wasn't really mine. "Just get me there. Then you can freak out all you want."

Dr. Morrison had assured me during my last checkup that everything was stable. My body had accepted the transplant beautifully. The occasional discomfort was normal like stress, changes in barometric pressure and even just being tired could cause it.

"Your new heart is healthy." He told me with that calm certainty doctors always had. "You just need to listen to it. Rest when you need to rest. Don't push too hard."

Right. Don't push too hard.

Like driving two hours alone at night in a rainstorm.

I was really nailing this "listening to my body" thing.

The pressure intensified, spreading from my chest down my left arm in a way that made my stomach drop.

That wasn't normal. That was the kind of symptom you shouldn't ignore.

I needed to pull over.

Maybe turn around and head back.

But the road was narrow, with no shoulder to speak of. Trees pressed close on both sides, and I hadn't seen a turnoff or parking area in at least twenty minutes.

Just a little further. I had found somewhere safe to stop and assess whether I was actually having a medical emergency or just having a panic attack about having a medical emergency.

The rain got heavier, drumming against the roof in a steady rhythm that would've been soothing under different circumstances.

Now it just felt ominous.

This was fine. Everything was fine. I just needed to stay calm and focused and…

My heart skipped.

Not the uncomfortable pressure I had been dealing with but an actual skip. Like it forgot how to beat for a second and then remembered with a jolt.

My breath caught.

"No." I said out loud. "No, no, no. Not now."

It skipped again.

Then raced to compensate, beating so fast I could feel it in my throat.

Panic clawed up my spine. This was bad. This was really bad. I needed to stop the car and needed to call for help and needed to…

Something moved in front of the headlights.

A shape. Large and dark, appearing so suddenly I didn't have time to process what I was seeing.

A wolf.

At least I thought it was a wolf.

But wolves weren't supposed to be that big. This thing was massive like easily the size of a small horse with dark fur that glistened in the rain and a presence that filled the road like it owned it.

It stood directly in my path completely still, staring straight at my car.

At me.

The headlights caught its eyes and they reflected back at me in a way that made my already racing heart stutter again.

Silver.

Not the yellow-green you had expected from an animal's eyes reflecting light.

Actual metallic silver, bright and unnatural and impossible.

Time seemed to slow down.

I should brake. I should do something other than stare in frozen shock at the enormous wolf blocking the road.

But my body wasn't listening to my brain anymore.

The wolf didn't move. It didn't run or show any sign of fear. Just watched me with those impossible eyes, rain streaming off its dark fur.

Then my survival instincts finally kicked in.

I slammed on the brakes with both feet, my heart hammering so hard it hurt.

The tires screeched against wet pavement. The car lurched. And I realised with crystal clarity that I had made a terrible mistake.

You don't brake hard on a wet road.

Everyone knew that.

But panic made you stupid, and I had panicked.

The car started to spin.

Slowly at first, then faster. The steering wheel jerked out of my hands. Trees blurred past the windows. My stomach dropped as the world tilted sideways.

I was going to hit the wolf. Or a tree. Or both.

I was going to crash and die on a forest road because I had tried to avoid hitting what was probably a hallucination brought on by my failing heart.

This was it. One year after a transplant saved my life, I was going to die anyway.

Mom was going to be so mad at me.

The thought would've been funny if I wasn't absolutely terrified.

The car hit something with a sickening crunch of metal and breaking glass.

My head slammed against the window despite the seatbelt. Pain exploded across my skull. The airbag deployed, hitting me in the chest so hard it knocked the breath from my lungs.

Then everything stopped.

The car settled at an angle, half in the ditch beside the road. Rain poured through the shattered windshield.

I couldn't move and breathe.

My chest! God, my chest hurt so much.

Not just from the airbag. Something was wrong. Really wrong.

My heart was beating too fast and too hard and completely irregularly, like it couldn't remember its rhythm.

This was what Dr. Morrison had warned me about. What happened when you stressed a transplanted organ too much. When you pushed and pushed until something gave.

I tried to move my hand to my phone, to call for help, but my arm wouldn't cooperate.

Black spots danced across my vision.

I was going to pass out. Maybe die. Probably die.

This was how it ended.

Through the broken windshield, I saw movement.

The wolf.

It was still there. Still watching.

I could see just how massive it really was. Bigger than any wolf I had ever seen in pictures or documentaries. Its shoulders were level with my car window. Muscles rippled under dark fur as it approached, moving with a grace that seemed impossible for something so large.

I should've been terrified. Should've been screaming or trying to escape or doing anything other than staring at this creature that was definitely going to eat me now that I was helpless in a crashed car.

But I couldn't look away from its eyes.

Silver. Bright and intelligent and almost... human?

No. That was crazy. I had hit my head. I was probably concussed and hallucinating and…

My heart did that thing again. Not the painful irregular beating. Something else.

A pull.

Like recognition.

Like my heart knew this creature somehow, which was completely impossible because hearts didn't have memories.

It was still staring at me through the broken window.

And I stared back, unable to do anything else.

My vision was getting darker. The pain in my chest spread and intensified until it felt like my entire ribcage was being crushed.

This was it. I was dying while a giant supernatural wolf stood guard beside my wrecked car.

My life had officially become the weirdest and shortest fantasy novel ever written.

The thought almost made me laugh, but I couldn't get enough air for that.

Everything was fading. The rain, the pain, the fear, all of it slipping away into darkness that felt almost peaceful.

The last thing I saw before unconsciousness took me completely was those silver eyes through the mirror.

Still watching.

Still waiting.

And then nothing at all.