Chapter 2

Zoey

The first growl should have been enough. The kind that rumbles in your chest and reminds you that no matter how many documentaries you’ve binge-watched about predators, you’re still basically a meat burrito wrapped in cotton.

But no, apparently my survival instincts had taken a personal day, because instead of fainting or playing dead, I ran.

Branches clawed at my hoodie. My lungs burned, each breath dragging like broken glass. The mist curled around my ankles, glowing faintly in the moonlight—because yes, apparently it was night now, which was fantastic since I’d only been out hiking in the early afternoon.

This place didn’t care about Earth’s clock; the light here shifted like moods—one blink of storm and suddenly the sky had decided it was moon o’clock.

Behind me, paws pounded the moss. Heavy. Coordinated. Too many. Snarls snapped through the mist, sharp and wet. My brain screamed, Pack. They’re hunting you like a deer.

“Great,” I wheezed between ragged breaths. “I skipped cardio for four years and now it’s finally going to kill me.”

I shoved myself harder, boots slipping on moss slick as soap. My glasses slid down my nose and I nearly flung them off in a panic before remembering that without them, I’d be as blind as a bat in a blackout. Death by wolf was bad enough, death by tree trunk because I couldn’t see it coming was just embarrassing.

The mist thickened, curling up past my knees, swallowing the forest in a pale glow. Every direction looked the same—dark trunks etched faintly with silver runes, luminous flowers drooping like chandelier bulbs, and those eyes. Always those eyes.

The wolves didn’t rush me all at once. No. That would’ve been merciful. Instead, they kept pace, circling, closing in like professionals. One snarled to my left. Another snapped branches on my right. My body screamed at me to keep running, but my brain whispered the truth—they weren’t chasing. They were herding.

When I darted right, a gray shadow flowed into my path and merely held the line—no lunge, no bite—just guiding pressure. When I faked left, another body blocked, patient as a sheepdog with a very stupid sheep.

I tripped on a root and went down hard, palms scraping on glowing moss. The world spun. Hot tears stung my eyes. I scrambled back to my feet, heart slamming like a jackhammer.

A low growl pulsed behind me. I spun—and froze.

Three wolves padded into view, eyes gleaming yellow. Massive. Muscles rippling beneath thick fur. Their heads hung low, lips peeled back to reveal teeth long and sharp enough to make steak knives jealous.

My body locked up. My brain, naturally, picked this moment to get snarky. So this is how I die. Sweaty, single, and undercaffeinated.

The lead wolf snarled, shoulders bunching, ready to spring.

“Nope,” I whispered. Then louder, “Nope nope nope!”

I bolted left, dodging between glowing mushrooms that pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat. My legs screamed. My lungs begged for mercy. My body wasn’t built for survival-of-the-fittest scenarios.

The mist swirled thicker. My vision tunneled. Behind me, the wolves closed in, silent now except for the occasional growl that sounded way too much like laughter.

I careened into a clearing, my chest on fire, and skidded to a stop so fast my knees nearly gave out.

Because standing on the far side, half hidden in the mist, was something bigger.

Much bigger.

Black as midnight, fur rippling like smoke and shadow, he filled the clearing with sheer presence. His body was longer, taller, broader. When he padded forward, the ground seemed to notice—runes along the trees flared faintly, like they were bowing.

My backpack, miracle of sternum straps, was still welded to me—two granola bars and one paperback riding into destiny.

And his eyes—dear God.

Blue. Not just blue like a summer sky or a cheap gemstone, but burning, electric blue, lit from within as though someone had bottled lightning and poured it into his gaze. They pinned me where I stood. Made my heart seize, made the world narrow down to two glowing points of inevitability.

I couldn’t move. My legs wouldn’t listen.

The pack behind me went still. Then, in eerie unison, they lowered their heads. Submission. To him.

The biggest of them—a wolf that had nearly lunged at me moments ago—flattened itself to the moss with a whimper.

The black wolf’s growl rolled through the clearing. Low. Deep. A sound that made every nerve in my body spark with primal terror.

This was their leader. Their king.

And I was prey.

My chest heaved, air ragged and hot. I stumbled back a step, boots slipping on the moss. My brain shouted at me to run, but where? The pack had melted into the mist, a ring of eyes keeping me in place. Behind me, ahead of me, everywhere—except where he stood.

I swallowed hard. My voice squeaked out before I could stop it. “O-okay. Hi. Big scary alpha wolf. Not looking for trouble. Just—uh—took the wrong trail? Totally my bad. I’ll just… retrace my steps. Pretend this never happened. You can go back to eating venison or… whatever it is you do for fun.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just looked at me, those blue eyes stripping me bare.

Heat crawled up my neck. My sarcasm was a paper shield against something that felt so much bigger, heavier. Like the air itself had shifted, bending toward him. Toward us.

His head tilted. Slowly. Deliberately.

The kind of motion predators make when they’re curious about how long you’ll last before you break.

I pressed a shaking hand against my chest, as if I could physically hold my heart in place. My legs threatened mutiny.

“Listen,” I whispered, because apparently I had lost all sense of self-preservation and thought talking to the massive wolf was a solid plan. “You don’t want me. I’m stringy. Chewy. Zero fat content. Honestly, I’m the kale of humans. Go for something juicier.”

Nothing. Just that gaze.

And then—

He moved.

One step forward, and the forest seemed to hold its breath. Mist curled tighter around his paws. My lungs forgot how to function.

Another step. My back hit a tree. Bark dug into my shoulder blades. My fingers scrabbled at it, searching for something—anything—that might keep me upright.

The pack watched in silence. Not a single growl. Not a single pawstep. Just deference.

And still, those blue eyes locked on me.

Something snapped in the air—audible, like a crack of static. I flinched. My skin prickled. Heat swept through me, sudden and alien, as though I’d walked into the middle of a storm and it had decided to live under my skin.

My knees wobbled. I gasped, clutching the tree harder. “What the hell—”

The wolf’s ears flicked back. His lips peeled, not in threat but in something closer to… restraint. His chest heaved once, twice, and then—

He shifted.

I blinked. No, not blinked—stared, gaping, as the impossible happened.

The black wolf’s body shimmered, edges blurring. Bones cracked—not grotesque, but powerful, like stone breaking into a new shape. Fur rippled, shrinking, melting into skin. Muscles reshaped, sinew twisting, reforming.

And then he wasn’t a wolf anymore.

He was a man.

My jaw dropped. My brain short-circuited.

Naked from the waist up, tall enough to make the world look small, he stood where the beast had been. His body was all hard planes and carved muscle, the kind you only saw on Greek statues or I*******m fitness models who spent twelve hours a day in the gym. His skin gleamed faintly with sweat, catching the glow of the runes.

Dark hair, black as ink, fell in damp strands across his forehead. His jaw was sharp enough to cut glass, cheekbones high and unforgiving. And his eyes—still that electric, searing blue—burned with an intensity that made my stomach flip inside out.

Beautiful. Terrifying. Both at once.

I clutched the tree harder, fingers numb. My brain flailed for words. Any words. Preferably ones that didn’t sound like I was actively drooling.

Instead, what came out was, “Oh, hell no. Of course you’re hot. Because my life clearly wasn’t confusing enough already.”

His lips curved—just faintly. Not a smile. More like the ghost of one. The kind that said he knew exactly how he looked and exactly what it did to people like me.

He took a step closer.

And something inside me—some instinct older than logic, older than sarcasm—snapped taut. Heat surged under my skin, not just fear but something stranger. Alien. It was like being yanked forward by invisible thread, like the universe had reached in and started rearranging the furniture in my chest without asking permission.

My breath hitched.

He stopped in front of me, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. Close enough that the scent of him—earth, pine, smoke, something wild and dangerous—wrapped around me like a net.

His gaze dropped to my mouth. Rose back to my eyes.

And when he spoke, his voice was low, rough, resonant. The kind of voice that wasn’t meant to be heard so much as felt in your bones.

“Mate.”

The word detonated inside me. Heat. Shock. Denial. Something magnetic that made my pulse stumble.

My brain screamed NO.

No way.

That word means one thing. He’s a werewolf. And when someone calls you mate… it means you’re theirs.

I shook my head hard, back plastered to the tree. “No. Wrong girl. Try again. I’m not—”

But his eyes told me the truth.

And deep inside, traitorous as hell, something in me answered.