Ghosts in the Dark

The motel room stank of old liquor, mildew, and something rotting beneath the floorboards—just enough to remind James of every place he’d crawled through to survive. A single bare bulb buzzed overhead, flickering like it was tired of existing. The television muttered static into the heavy silence, ignored.

James paced in slow, deliberate circles, the cracked floor creaking beneath his boots. His fingers twitched at his sides, and his wolf stirred beneath his skin—restless, eager. The beast was always quiet until something worth hunting came close.

The burner phone on the nightstand vibrated once.

He snatched it up like a lifeline. “Talk.”

“She’s back,” came Damien’s voice—low, calm, and cold as ice.

James stopped mid-step. “Say that again.”

“Aria. I saw her yesterday. Grocery store in Black Hollow. She was with her mother.”

He squeezed the phone tighter, plastic creaking under his grip. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. I know her scent anywhere. She looked... good. Better than I expected.”

James’s jaw clenched. His wolf growled low, a deep rumble of recognition and rage. He turned toward the window, pushing aside the stained curtain. The sun stung his eyes, but he didn’t blink.

“She went back to them,” he hissed. “After everything I did for her. Everything I gave.”

“Looks like she’s laying low at her parents’ house. Hasn’t rejoined the pack formally yet, but she’s not hiding.”

“She doesn’t have to. Her father’s the Beta. She’s protected just by being under their roof.” His voice dropped into something colder. “She ran from me... and they welcomed her back.”

Damien didn’t answer.

James began pacing again, blood surging hot beneath his skin. “She was mine. She belonged to me. I protected her. I taught her everything she knows.”

“She also left you,” Damien muttered, more to himself than to James.

James stopped walking. “Because they poisoned her against me. They lied. Twisted everything. Told her I was dangerous.”

“You tried to use rogues to attack the pack, James.”

“I had a vision!” James barked. “They don’t understand power. The pack was weak, crumbling under tradition and fear. I would’ve made it stronger. I would’ve made her stronger.”

Damien paused before speaking again. “What do you want to do?”

James stared at the duffel bag on the foot of the bed—inside, folders, names, maps, plans. Years of work. Of preparation.

“We isolate her,” he said darkly. “Make her feel hunted again. Alone. Like before.”

“You think you can break her again?” Damien asked, uncertain.

James’s voice was barely above a whisper. “She’s already broken. She just forgot.”

“She didn’t look broken to me.”

James laughed softly—an ugly, humorless sound. “She thinks being back there means safety. That they’ll protect her. But she has no idea how deep my roots still go.”

He dropped onto the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, eyes sharp and distant. “Reach out to the old network. Quietly. The ones who still believe in strength over weakness. Start planting doubt. About her. About her loyalty. Let the pack wonder why she really came back.”

Damien sighed. “You’re playing with fire.”

James’s expression didn’t waver. “Then I’ll burn the whole forest down.”

A pause.

“I’ll start tonight,” Damien said. “But if this goes sideways—”

“It won’t,” James cut in. “Because this time, I won’t let her leave. Not until she remembers what we are.”

He ended the call and tossed the phone aside.

Silence fell.

The wolf inside him stirred again, ears twitching, tail swaying like it sensed a hunt coming. James rose and crouched beside the duffel bag. He unzipped it slowly, reverently. Inside, manila folders labeled in thick black marker: Patrol Schedules, Weak Links, Hollow Strategy.

He pulled one out and flipped it open, fingers brushing over a weathered photo of the pack’s training grounds. His lip curled in disgust.

“She’s forgotten who she is,” he whispered to himself. “Forgotten who made her strong.”

But he hadn’t forgotten. Not the way she looked when she was obedient. When she listened. When she believed in him.

“She’ll come back,” he said, louder this time. “One way or another.”

He crossed the room to the desk and picked up the burner again. There were still people who owed him. Wolves too cowardly to stand up before—but they would be useful now.

He dialed the first number on his list.

As it rang, he stared out the window, eyes locked on the horizon.

Let them think she was safe. Let her believe she had escaped.

The truth was already moving.

And he was coming.