Chapter 1

Zoey

The thing about graduation is everyone acts like you’re supposed to know what you’re doing next. Get the diploma, throw the cap, take the pictures with forced smiles and sunburned cheeks—and then, boom, you’re supposed to be a fully functioning adult with a five-year plan and matching cookware.

Yeah, no.

Me? I had a degree in English Literature, a part-time job at a coffee shop, and a student loan balance that could feed a small wolf pack for life. My mother’s exact words at the ceremony were, “Sweetheart, we’re so proud. Now please, for the love of God, don’t move back into the basement.”

So naturally, three weeks later, I was in the woods—alone—with questionable cell service and a pair of hiking boots that still had the price tag fuzz stuck to them. Because when the pressure of what’s next? feels like a two-ton gorilla doing pushups on your chest, you either sign up for grad school or you go find a trail.

I picked the trail.

Not because I liked nature. I’m allergic to half of it. Flowers, grass, pollen—you name it, my sinuses throw a tantrum. Not because I was athletic. The only marathons I’d done involved N*****x and takeout. But because being outside was better than watching my older brother post about his engagement ring budget on I*******m while I stress-ate Pop-Tarts.

So here I was. Zoey Mitchell, twenty-two, five foot five on a good day, light brown hair cropped short with bangs I regretted every time humidity existed, glasses perpetually sliding down my nose, and an optimism streak my friends swore was going to get me killed one day. Nerdy? Yes. Witty? Absolutely. Sarcastic when cornered? Like it was my major.

The trailhead had promised “a scenic loop, easy difficulty.” Whoever rated it had clearly been part mountain goat.

I tripped for the third time in ten minutes, caught myself on a tree, and muttered, “Sure, Zoey. Great idea. Go for a hike to clear your head. What could possibly go wrong? Except death by root.”

I adjusted my backpack, which contained two granola bars, a water bottle, and one emergency paperback novel—because priorities—and forced myself forward. The canopy above was thick, filtering the sunlight into shifting gold. Pretty. Almost peaceful.

Until the wind shifted.

At first it was subtle, like someone opening a door in another room. A cool draft rolled down my neck, carrying a scent that didn’t belong—ozone and rain, even though the sky I could glimpse through the branches was perfectly blue.

I frowned. “Weird.”

The forest went still. No birds. No buzzing. No rustling. Just silence, heavy and absolute.

Somewhere above the canopy, the light went wrong—too green, too bruised, like a storm had put its thumb on the sun. The change wasn’t weather, it was a decision the sky made.

My stomach dropped. I pulled out my phone, thumbed the screen. No service. Classic horror-movie setup.

Then the world tilted.

Wind roared through the trees, violent and sudden. Branches bent like they were bowing to something I couldn’t see. Leaves whipped past in a frenzy, and my hair stood on end. The air turned green, bruise-colored.

Not a storm so much as a door pretending to be one.

I spun, heart hammering. The trail behind me was gone—or maybe it was still there, but the wind had twisted the forest into something unrecognizable. My boots sank into mud that hadn’t been there a second ago.

“This is fine,” I said out loud. “Totally fine. Just a freak weather event. Happens all the time.”

But the storm didn’t behave like a storm.

The wind didn’t push me—it lifted me. My feet left the ground, weightless. Lightning forked sideways across the clearing, white-hot veins stitching the air. The roar grew deafening, like an engine made of thunder.

I screamed, clutching at nothing, spinning helplessly. My glasses nearly flew off, and I grabbed them like they were the last thing tethering me to sanity.

The storm wasn’t above me. It was around me. A wall of spinning gray and light, circling tight, swallowing everything.

And then—

Blackness.

When I came to, it wasn’t with the gentle grogginess of a nap or the panic of an alarm I’d snoozed too many times. It was like being rebooted. Hard reset. My lungs dragged in air that smelled too clean—like fresh rain, wildflowers, and something faintly electric. My body lay sprawled on… moss? Soft, glowing moss, actually.

I blinked. And blinked again.

Nope, not a fever dream. The moss under my palms pulsed faintly with silver light, like it was lit from within. My head tilted back, and I froze.

The trees weren’t ordinary trees. Their trunks shimmered faintly as though someone had traced runes into their bark and set them aglow. Branches arched overhead like stained glass windows, catching stray beams of moonlight even though it had to be midday.

“Okay,” I croaked, pushing myself up onto my elbows. “So, I’m either concussed, dead, or finally experiencing the effects of my diet consisting mostly of caffeine and instant ramen.”

My backpack was still strapped to me, bless the hiking gods, and my glasses clung to my nose like the loyal little plastic champions they were. I pushed them up with a shaking finger.

The forest hummed. Not with bugs or birds—this was something else. A vibration under my skin. A… presence. Like the air itself was watching me.

“Nope. Nope, nope, nope.” I scrambled to my feet, brushing moss off my jeans. My hoodie was torn at the elbow, and mud streaked my boots, but otherwise I was intact. “Okay, Zoey. You’re fine. You’ve seen weirder. You binge-read fantasy novels for fun. This is just… one of those. Live-action. Without the popcorn.”

I turned in a slow circle. The trail I’d been on was gone. Replaced with a glowing river in the distance, its water rippling silver instead of blue. Flowers the size of dinner plates leaned toward me, their petals faintly bioluminescent. Off to my left, a cluster of mushrooms pulsed like nightclub strobes, faintly pink, faintly… laughing?

“Cool. Love that. I’m in Avatar. Somebody get me a blue boyfriend and a tail.”

I sighed, the humor barely keeping my pulse from launching into orbit. My mind scrambled for logic. Storm. Knocked out. Hallucination? Except hallucinations don’t make the hair on your arms rise with static, and they don’t let you feel the grit of glowing moss under your nails.

I took one tentative step forward. Then another.

The forest deepened, shadows curling between luminous plants. I tried to listen for something normal—crickets, a bird, even the buzz of a mosquito. Nothing. Just that hum.

And then—

A sound. Low. A rumble that started in the ground and worked its way up into my bones.

I froze. “Earthquake?”

No. Worse.

A growl.

I whipped my head to the right. Between two glowing trunks, a pair of eyes gleamed yellow. Too high off the ground to be anything small.

My chest tightened.

Another pair blinked to life to the left. Then another.

I swallowed hard, breath fogging in the unnaturally cool air.

“Dogs,” I whispered, like maybe calling them something familiar would help. Except no dog’s eyes glowed like headlights on full beam, and no dog’s growl vibrated with that much hunger.

They stepped forward, one by one, until the shadows gave them shape. Wolves. Massive. Muscular. Their shoulders came nearly to my chest, their teeth catching the glow of the forest like knives dipped in light.

The biggest one sniffed the air and let out a growl that sounded disturbingly like mine.

My heart jumped into my throat.

“Nope. Absolutely not. I am not on the menu.” My voice shook, but sarcasm was all I had left. “I’ve got like… two granola bars and a sarcastic attitude. Zero nutritional value.”

They didn’t laugh. Obviously. Wolves aren’t known for their sense of humor.

The circle tightened, paws silent on glowing moss. My hands curled around the straps of my backpack like that would save me.

I did the only logical thing.

I ran.

My boots slapped against the ground, breath tearing out of me in panicked gasps. Branches clawed at my arms, snagging my hoodie. Behind me, snarls erupted, pounding paws closing in.

I didn’t dare look back. I just ran.

The forest blurred—silver light, glowing petals, runed trunks streaking past. My chest burned. My glasses slid down my nose, and I shoved them up with a frantic hand, refusing to let the universe rob me of eyesight before I died.

I stumbled into a clearing, lungs screaming, and skidded to a stop.

Because standing at the far edge, half hidden in the mist, was another wolf.

Bigger.

Black as midnight, fur rippling with power. Eyes an unnatural, piercing blue, glowing like twin stars in the shadows. His presence hit me like a punch—cold, commanding, ancient.

I froze, my body trembling.

The smaller wolves hesitated behind me, as if even they were wary of him.

He growled, deep and sharp. The others lowered their heads. Submitted.

I should’ve felt relief. Instead, my pulse went nuclear.

Because when his eyes locked on mine, every inch of me knew—

This wasn’t rescue. This was fate.