CHAPTER 5

Rain blurred the trees into streaks of black and silver as they ran. Ava’s legs felt like lead, each step heavier than the last. The power she’d unleashed back at the cabin had left her hollow, as if she’d burned through all the air in her lungs.

“Slow down,” she gasped. “I can’t—”

Silas stopped abruptly, scanning the forest with eyes that glowed faintly even in the darkness. “We’re almost there. Just a little farther.”

Rowan caught up, breath ragged. He looked at Ava with a mixture of shock and worry. “What the hell was that back there? That wasn’t normal, Ava. That wasn’t—” He broke off, shaking his head. “We need to get you out of here, away from him.”

Silas spun on him. “She saved your life, and you still think I’m the problem?”

“You kidnapped her,” Rowan snapped. “You dragged her into your war—”

“I dragged her out of a trap,” Silas shot back.

“Enough,” Ava said, louder than she meant to. Both men fell silent. She bent over, hands on her knees, rain plastering her hair to her face. “I don’t care which one of you is right. Just…stop fighting for five minutes.”

Silas’s jaw worked. Rowan looked away. For the first time since the creek, Ava felt something like control slip into her hands. She straightened slowly, shivering. “Where are you taking us?”

“Safe place,” Silas said after a moment. “Off the grid. No one but me knows it.”

“Then let’s go,” she said. “Before they find us again.”

He nodded once and started forward. Rowan hesitated, then followed. The three of them moved deeper into the forest, the howls fading behind them.

They climbed a steep rise slick with moss, rain whispering through the trees. Ava’s lungs burned. The crimson edge of the moon was sinking lower, but it felt closer somehow, like an eye following her.

At the top of the ridge Silas stopped beside a boulder half-hidden by ferns. He knelt, pressed his palm to a carved mark in the stone, and muttered something under his breath. The earth gave a faint shudder. With a grinding sound, the boulder shifted, revealing a narrow opening.

Rowan stiffened. “What is this?”

“Old hunter’s lodge,” Silas said. “Built before the pack even had a name. My people used it when we were still human.”

Ava peered into the dark passage. “And now?”

“Now it’s a place for those who don’t belong anywhere else.” He motioned them inside.

The passage sloped down into cool, dry air. Flickers of torchlight glowed ahead. As her eyes adjusted, Ava saw carvings on the walls — spirals, eyes, and wolves running side by side with human figures. The tunnel opened into a chamber lined with old pews and a cracked stone altar. It looked like a church and a cave had merged.

Two figures rose from the benches when they entered. One was a tall, broad-shouldered woman with close-cropped hair and a scar across her cheek. The other was a wiry man with glasses and a satchel slung over one shoulder. Both had the wary look of people who’d learned not to trust first.

“Silas,” the woman said. “You’re late.”

“Ran into trouble,” he replied. “This is Ava. And this is Rowan. They’re with me.”

The woman’s gaze flicked over Ava. “She’s the Cross girl.”

Ava bristled. “You say that like I’m a weapon.”

The man with glasses gave a nervous smile. “Around here, names carry a lot of history. I’m Caleb. That’s Mara.” He gestured to the scarred woman. “We’ve been trying to figure out a way to stop Elias for years.”

Rowan’s hand hovered near his gun. “Convenient,” he muttered. “A whole nest of rogues.”

“Call us whatever you want,” Mara said. “We’re the only reason Silas is still alive.”

Ava moved deeper into the chamber, the prophecy book still clutched to her chest. Something about the old carvings made her skin tingle — as if the walls remembered every oath ever sworn here. “Does Elias know about this place?”

“No,” Silas said. “And we need to keep it that way.”

He turned to Mara and Caleb. “How long until the Blood Moon rises fully?”

Caleb opened his satchel and pulled out a weathered chart, spreading it across a bench. “We thought three nights. But…” He glanced at Ava, then back at Silas. “It’s moving faster. The omens changed when she arrived. We might have only one.”

Silas’s jaw clenched. “Damn.”

Ava felt the blood drain from her face. “One night?”

Caleb nodded. “If Elias completes the ritual under an early Blood Moon, it’ll lock for a century. Nothing will break it.”

Rowan exhaled sharply. “So what do we do?”

Silas’s eyes met Ava’s. “We get you ready.”

Mara shoved a wooden staff into Ava’s hands. “First lesson,” she said, “don’t let anyone else tell you what you can do. Second, never fight on their terms.”

“I’m not a fighter,” Ava murmured, gripping the staff awkwardly. Her palms were slick with sweat. Her body still felt hollow from the power she’d unleashed, but some stubborn part of her refused to sit down.

“You weren’t a fighter,” Mara corrected. “You’re becoming one.”

They were in a side chamber off the main hall. Torchlight flickered on stone walls etched with faded runes. Silas leaned against the doorway, arms folded, watching. Rowan sat on one of the benches, his eyes darting between Ava and Silas as if he still hadn’t decided whether to bolt or stay.

Mara stepped back. “Hit me.”

Ava blinked. “What?”

“Hit me. Hard.”

“I don’t want to—”

“Then you’ll never survive the Blood Moon.” Mara’s tone was flat, not unkind. “Hit me.”

Ava swallowed, lifted the staff, and swung. Mara deflected it easily with her forearm and sent it spinning out of Ava’s grip. “Again.”

For the next twenty minutes they repeated the motion. Strike, deflect, strike, deflect. Each time Mara gave a little more pushback. Ava’s muscles burned. Her breath came ragged. But with each swing something inside her loosened — a rhythm, a pulse, as if the same current that had burst out of her at the cabin was stirring, curious.

“Good,” Mara said at last. “You’re learning to feel it.”

Ava wiped sweat from her brow. “Feel what?”

“Yourself,” Silas said quietly. “The part they tried to bury.”

A faint warmth curled in Ava’s chest at his voice. She glanced at Rowan, who looked away quickly, jaw tight.

Caleb entered, carrying a bundle of papers and a steaming mug. “I think you’ll want to see this.” He spread the papers on a low table: maps of Ash Pines and symbols scrawled in red ink. “Elias’s people are moving. Two more disappearances tonight. He’s gathering bodies for the ritual.”

Ava’s stomach turned. “Bodies?”

“Every binding needs blood,” Caleb said grimly. “He’s been careful so far, hiding it under animal attacks. But now that you’re here, he’s accelerating.”

Silas’s hands clenched into fists. “Then we’re out of time.”

Rowan rose, tension in his shoulders. “We can still go back. Get help. If we bring what we know to the council—”

“There is no council anymore,” Mara cut him off. “Elias bought or broke them all.”

Rowan opened his mouth, then shut it. For a moment he looked younger, lost. Ava’s anger softened. “Rowan,” she said gently. “You don’t have to keep protecting Elias. You can choose, too.”

He met her eyes. Something flickered there — shame, maybe, or relief — but he didn’t answer.

Caleb cleared his throat. “There’s more.” He held up a torn scrap of paper. “A warning was left at one of the attack sites. It’s in Cross’s handwriting.”

Ava took it, heart pounding. The writing was unmistakable—her father’s. Trust the hunter, not the wolf. Beneath it, a symbol she’d never seen: two interlocking crescents.

“What does it mean?” she whispered.

Silas leaned over her shoulder. His face was unreadable. “It means your father didn’t just hide you. He was planning something.”

A chill ran through her. “Planning what?”

Before anyone could answer, a low tremor ran through the floor, rattling the torches. Mara’s head snapped up. “They’ve found one of the entrances.”

Caleb swore softly. “Too soon.”

Silas straightened. “Mara, seal the north tunnel. Caleb, pack everything you can carry.” He turned to Ava. “We’re leaving.”

Ava’s pulse jumped. “We can’t keep running forever.”

“No,” Silas agreed. “We can’t. But we can choose where to stand.”

Rowan moved to Ava’s side. “If we’re doing this, we need a plan.”

Mara returned, wiping dirt from her hands. “They’re close. Maybe an hour.”

Silas grabbed a lantern and slung a pack over his shoulder. “We head for the ruins at Gray Hollow. Old wardings there might hold long enough for us to finish what your father started.”

Ava clutched the scrap of paper tighter. The ink smeared against her skin like blood. She felt the pull of the power inside her, restless, waiting. She met Silas’s gaze. “Then let’s go.”

For the first time since she’d come home, she felt a flicker of certainty. She didn’t know if Silas was right, or if Rowan could be trusted, or if she’d survive the Blood Moon. But she knew this: she was done being a pawn.

As they moved out of the chamber, Mara handed Ava a small dagger etched with the same interlocking crescents. “Your father left this here,” she said. “I think he meant it for you.”

Ava turned the blade in her hand. It felt oddly familiar, as if it had been waiting for her. The carvings along the hilt pulsed faintly, echoing the rhythm in her chest.

They climbed the passage back to the surface. Rain had stopped; the forest steamed under the heavy moon. Somewhere in the distance a horn sounded, low and mournful. The pack was on the move.

Silas touched her arm. “Stay close to me. When we get to Gray Hollow, everything changes.”

Ava looked at Rowan, at Mara and Caleb, then up at the bleeding edge of the moon. She tightened her grip on the dagger. “Everything’s already changing.”

They slipped into the trees, shadows among shadows, the prophecy’s words whispering in Ava’s mind. Sever or seal.

Behind them, deep in the tunnel they had left, a single wolf’s howl echoed—long, rising, and strangely human. A warning. Or a promise.