Chapter 3

My blood froze.

They were going to kill me.

They truly meant to kill me.

A chill crawled up my spine as my heartbeat pounded against my skull. I couldn't die here. I couldn't let them decide my fate.

I had to escape.

My thoughts spun wildly, clawing for any plan—any chance.

Leah stretched lazily, almost bored. "I'm tired."

As if she were announcing she needed sleep—not ordering my execution.

Henry never looked at me. Not once. He didn't offer a reason, an excuse, nothing.

His voice was ice.

"Kill her."

Two words. Final and absolute.

Then—

He and Leah turned and walked away side by side.

Their footsteps faded into the dark.

At the same time, the darkness exploded with footsteps.

A few werewolf warriors surrounded me in an instant.

And the next second—

They lunged.

I stumbled backward, the impact slamming me hard against the thick trunk of a pine tree.

I barely had time to think—instinct took over.

Crack!

The first warrior's claws sliced toward me, fast as a shadow. I twisted aside, my fingers scraping bark as I rolled left, dodging the strike by a breath.

ROAR—!

His claws ripped into the tree where my head had been, splintering the trunk with brutal force.

Before I could catch a breath, another werewolf launched himself over the tree, descending on me from above.

Without thinking, I snatched up a broken branch from the ground and drove it straight toward his face.

Snap!

The branch cracked clean in my hands—

and the rest of it smashed into his nose.

He jerked back with a pained snarl, rolling across the dirt.

"Seems that you've got some fight in you," someone sneered.

"Stop struggling." Another werewolf barreled through a dead tree, sending its branches crashing down with a thunderous crack.

He stepped around the wreckage to block my only escape route.

I was surrounded.

Moonlight filtered through the leaves, twisting their shadows into demon shapes across the forest floor.

"Henry warned us," one warrior hissed, licking his fangs. "You need to die."

My heart tightened.

Rage and fear surged together, burning hot in my chest.

"Sorry," I growled, jaw tight, "but I'm not letting you take me."

The warriors roared and lunged all at once.

Thud!

I dropped flat to the ground. The earth was cold and wet beneath me, leaves scraping my cheeks—but all three werewolves crashed into each other instead of me.

Their furious howls shot into the night, sending birds exploding from the treetops.

I felt their breath behind me, hot and heavy—like death counting down.

I couldn't hold out anymore.

I had to escape.

Before any of them recovered, I dove into the thicket on my left, branches whipping my face with sharp stings.

"She's escaping!"

"Catch her!"

Run.

Run.

Run.

The air sliced across my cheeks like knives. Every breath stabbed at my ribs. I had no idea how long I kept going—only that the forest behind me felt like a living beast, snapping at my heels, ripping at my shadow.

My lungs burned. My legs felt carved from solid lead. But I forced them to move.

And just when my body was about to give out—

A burst of neon light flared through the darkness.

A bar.

The weathered wooden walls of the building loomed over me, a flickering red sign hanging above the doorway—Silver Night. Out here in the middle of nowhere, it looked violently out of place, almost threatening. But right now, I couldn't afford to care.

I sprinted forward and all but crashed through the entrance.

Bang—the door slammed shut behind me. The bar's usual clatter of music and drunken chatter cut off for a split second, as if someone had pressed pause. Dozens of eyes snapped in my direction. My heart nearly shot out of my throat.

Shit.

Before I could even inhale, a strong hand clamped around my arm.

"You finally showed up!" a voice hissed—annoyed, but kept dangerously low, like he didn't want anyone else hearing.

Before I could even see his face, I was yanked toward a shadowy corner.

"Wait, wait—you've got the wrong person—" I protested weakly, but my strength was already gone. I could only stumble along, dragged like some small animal caught by the scruff.

"Mary, this is not the time for tantrums." The man threw me an exasperated look over his shoulder. "You're twenty minutes late. Do you have any idea how miserable I was waiting here?"

Me: "..."

He didn't give me a second to breathe.

Still gripping my arm, he hauled me toward the back of the bar. We passed a cluster of werewolves—some sniffing the air, others half-squinting at me like they were a hair away from leaping and tearing something apart. My stomach dropped. Instinctively, I hunched my shoulders.

"Put your mask well." The man halted abruptly and looked at my mask. "The person you're meeting is a big deal. People beg for an audience and never get one—don't screw this up."

I blinked. "My mask? I—"

"Hurry up." His voice dropped to a growl—commanding, absolute. "No one can know who you are. Understand?"

My fingers trembled. It took a moment, but I finally steadied myself and adjusted the mask that was slipping from my face.

He definitely had the wrong person, but the suffocating pressure of the moment pinned the words in my throat.

Sensing my hesitation, he stepped closer. His breath carried that unmistakable wolf-Pack scent as he whispered urgently:

"Whatever happens, keep your mouth shut. You cannot let anyone know you were here tonight."

My heart hammered. "But I—"

He grabbed my shoulder, squeezing hard, his voice sharp and low:

"Listen to me, Mary. Silence. If you slip up, it won't just be you. We're all dead."

I froze.

I didn't even know—

—who this so-called "big shot" was;

—what that flicker of fear in his eyes meant;

—or why any of this had suddenly landed on me.

But one thing became painfully clear—

He had mistaken me for someone named Mary.

And the mask… was the reason.

Heavy footsteps echoed from deeper inside the bar, pressing down on the air like a weight.

The man gave me a shove. "Go. He's been waiting."

I stumbled forward. Instinct made me glance back toward the door. Outside, the night wind kicked dust across the empty street, but the threat I'd felt earlier still crawled across the back of my neck.

Those werewolves… hadn't followed me inside.

Because someone important was here?

No one would dare make trouble on this territory—everyone knew that. The hierarchy in the werewolf world was brutally strict; those at the top didn't just follow the rules—they were the rules.

If that was true—

Tonight, I might actually get a chance to save my own skin.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry, forcing myself to sound calm—quiet, almost mysterious.

"...Got it," I murmured.

The man finally stopped and pushed open a door leading to the back room.

I was shoved inside without warning, stumbling and nearly eating the floor. The door slammed shut behind me with a heavy, final thud.

The room was dim—too dim. Strange noises curled out from the corners, as if something in the shadows was growling… or dragging its claws across the ground.

Then, from the far end of the room, came a deep, resonant sound.

Not quite a beast, but wild enough to make my heart stutter. Not human, either—something straining against its own restraint. Every vibration crawled up my spine, cold and electric. And yet… somewhere deep inside me, something pulled back, an invisible thread hooking into my chest and tugging, urging me closer.

My feet moved before I even realized it.

One step.

Two steps.

The floor was icy. The air was thick and heavy. None of it mattered—I was hypnotized by that sound.

Just as my hand reached toward a shape hidden in the darkness—

"Get out."