Chapter 3:The Forest Cells

Selene didn't sleep.

She lay in her narrow bed above the bakery, staring at the ceiling, listening to the wind scrape branches against her window. Every creak of the old building made her flinch. Every shadow moving across her wall made her hold her breath.

The word was still burned behind her eyes.

RUN.

She'd checked the window a dozen times before coming upstairs. Nothing. Just clean glass and her own reflection looking back at her: pale, shaken, eyes too wide.

But the claw marks had been real. She'd felt them under her fingertips. Five faint lines etched into the frost, gone now, but real.

And the howl.

That sound. Low and mournful and somehow familiar, like a voice she'd known in a dream. It had crawled inside her chest and wrapped around her ribs and stayed.

Selene pressed her hand to her heart. It was still racing. Had been racing since the moment his eyes turned gold.

His eyes.

She sat up in bed, pulling the thin blanket tighter. Who was he? What was he? Men didn't have gold eyes. Men didn't make windows frost over with a single word. Men didn't vanish into snow without footprints…

She stopped.

She hadn't checked for footprints.

Selene threw off the blanket and crossed to the window in her bare feet, not caring about the cold. The street below was empty. Lamps flickered at corners. Snow covered everything in a fresh, clean layer.

And there, directly beneath her window, were prints.

Not human.

Larger. Deeper. The shape of paws, but bigger than any dog she'd ever seen. They led from the tavern door straight to the tree line and disappeared into darkness.

Selene's breath fogged the glass.

He was here. He was right here.

She pressed her palm to the cold window, right where the word had been. Her skin tingled. Just like when he'd touched her wrist in the tavern. Just like when his eyes had found hers.

“Who are you?”

The question echoed in her mind with no answer.

Morning came gray and cold.

Selene dragged herself downstairs to the bakery before sunrise, because bread didn't wait and neither did Marta's temper. The warm smell of yeast and cinnamon wrapped around her like a blanket, but it didn't stop the shaking in her hands.

"You look like something the cat dragged in." Marta was already elbow-deep in dough, flour dusting her apron. She took one look at Selene's face and frowned. "Didn't sleep?"

"No."

"Nightmares?"

Selene thought about the word on the window. The claw marks. The howl. The prints in the snow.

"Something like that."

Marta studied her for a long moment, then jerked her head toward the back room. "Sit. Eat. There's stew left from last night. You're no good to me half-dead."

Selene wanted to argue. She didn't have the energy. She slumped onto a crate in the back room and stared at the bowl Marta shoved at her without seeing it.

Voices drifted from the front of the bakery. Customers. The morning rush. Selene usually helped, but today she couldn't move.

"Did you hear it?" a woman was saying. "Last night. That howling."

Selene's hands stilled on the bowl.

"Aye." A man's voice, low and rough. "Wolves. Close, too. Closer than they've been in months."

"Something's got them stirred up. Old Thomas says he saw tracks at the forest edge this morning. Big ones. Bigger than any wolf he's ever seen."

"Could be the Alpha."

The word hit Selene like a slap.

Alpha.

"What's that mean?" the woman asked.

"It means the pack leader's nearby. Means we stay out of the forest and keep our doors locked at night." A pause. "And we remember why we don't ask questions in Blackthorn."

The woman murmured something Selene couldn't hear. Footsteps. The door closing.

She sat frozen, bowl forgotten.

Alpha. Pack leader. Wolves.

Marta appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a towel. Her face was unreadable.

"You heard that?"

Selene nodded.

"Then you know what I'm going to say."

"Don't go into the forest."

"Don't even look at the forest." Marta crossed to her, crouched down so they were eye level. "I've been here thirty years, girl. I've seen what happens to people who get curious about those woods. They go in. They don't come out. Or they come out... changed."

"Changed how?"

Marta's eyes flickered. For just a moment, Selene saw something ancient and sad in them. Fear. Memory.

"Doesn't matter. What matters is you stay away. That man in the tavern, the one you've been staring at all week? He's not a man. Not fully. And if he's taken an interest in you..."

She didn't finish. Didn't need to.

Selene's heart hammered again.

He's not a man. Not fully.

She'd known. Some part of her had known since the moment she saw gold where gray should be.

"I need to show you something," Selene said.

She pulled Marta to the window, pointed at the snow below. The prints were still there. Larger than life. Leading from the tavern to the trees.

Marta's face went pale. "Those are from last night?"

"Yes."

"He was right here. Outside your window." Marta grabbed her arm, grip iron-tight. "Selene, listen to me. Whatever he wants with you, run from it. Run far. Run fast. That's not a path you want to walk."

Run.

There was that word again.

But something in Selene rebelled. Some deep, stubborn part of her that had survived amnesia and loneliness and six months of not knowing who she was.

"What if I don't want to run?"

Marta stared at her like she'd grown a second head.

"Did you hear nothing I said? He's dangerous. His kind are killers."

"His kind saved me last night."

Marta blinked. "What?"

Selene hadn't known she was going to say it until the words left her mouth. But once they were out, they felt true. Felt right.

"That word on my window. 'RUN.' It wasn't a threat. It was a warning." She looked at the tree line, at the shadows beneath the pines. "Something was out there. Something bad. And he warned me."

"You don't know that."

"No." Selene's voice was quiet. "But I feel it."

Marta released her arm, stepped back. Her face was a war of emotions: fear, frustration, and something that looked almost like recognition.

"You're not going to stay away, are you?"

Selene thought about the dreams. Running on four legs. Dirt under her nails. The howl that had wrapped around her heart like it belonged there.

"I don't think I can."

Marta closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were wet.

"Then at least be smart about it." She reached into her pocket, pulled out a small leather pouch on a string. "Wear this. Old magic. From before my time. It won't stop them, but it might... remind them you're not prey."

Selene took it. The pouch was warm in her palm, heavier than it looked.

"What is it?"

"Wolf's bane. And other things. Just wear it."

Selene tied it around her neck. It settled against her chest, warm and strange.

"Thank you."

Marta shook her head. "Don't thank me. Thank me if you come back."

She turned and walked away, leaving Selene alone with the prints in the snow and the forest waiting in the distance and a question burning in her chest.

Who are you?

The forest didn't answer.

But something moved at the tree line. Just a shadow. Just for a moment.

Then it was gone.

Selene's hand went to the pouch at her neck.

Tonight, she decided. Tonight I go to the edge. Just to look. Just to see.

She didn't know if she was brave or stupid.

Maybe both.

The day passed slowly.

Selene worked. Served customers. Smiled when required. But her eyes kept drifting to the window, to the forest, to the place where shadow had moved.

By evening, she'd made her choice.

She told Marta she was tired, went to her room, and waited. Watched the sun set. Watched darkness claim the village. Watched the moon rise, not full yet, but close. Bright enough to paint the snow silver.

She put on her warmest coat. Laced her boots tight. Opened her window.

The cold hit her like a wall. She ignored it.

She climbed onto the roof, lowered herself to the ground, and stood in the snow where the prints had been.

They were gone now. Fresh snow had covered them.

But the forest was still there. Dark. Waiting.

Selene walked toward it.

One step. Two. Ten.

At the tree line, she stopped. Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. The pouch at her neck was almost hot now.

Just look, she told herself. Just see if he's there.

"Hello?" Her voice was barely a whisper. "I know you're out here. I know you... I know you warned me."

Silence.

Then… a shape. Between the trees. Large. Dark. Eyes that caught the moonlight and glowed gold.

Selene's breath stopped.

He stepped forward. Just enough for her to see his face. The man from the tavern. Dian. He was in human form, but barely something wild still lived in his eyes, in the set of his shoulders, in the way he moved like he might pounce or flee.

"You shouldn't be here." His voice was rough. Torn. Like he hadn't spoken in hours.

"I know."

"Go back."

"No."

His eyes flickered. Something like pain crossed his features.

"You don't understand what you're asking."

"Then explain it to me."

For a long moment, he just looked at her. Then he took a step closer. Then another. Until he was close enough to touch, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body, see the way his chest rose and fell too fast.

"I am the Alpha of the largest pack in this territory," he said quietly. "I have killed more times than I can count. I have buried a mate and a child. I have not felt anything in thirteen years." His voice cracked on the last word. "Until you."

Selene's heart stuttered.

"And that terrifies me," he continued. "Because my wolf, the beast inside me, he doesn't just want you. He needs you. And if I lose control..."

He looked away.

Selene reached out. Before she could think, before she could stop herself, her fingers touched his cheek.

He flinched like she'd burned him.

"Don't."

"Why?"

"Because if you're kind to me, I won't be able to let you go."

She left her hand where it was. His skin was warm. Human. Real.

"Then don't."

His eyes met hers. The gold in them blazed.

And

somewhere in the forest, something howled, not him, something else. Something closer. Something hungry.

Dian's face changed. All the softness vanished, replaced by something primal and furious.

"Run," he said.

And this time, it wasn't a warning.

It was a command.