CHAPTER ONE-

If someone had told me six months ago that I’d be packing up my dead mother’s vintage Camaro and driving to a town called Red Hollow—a name that sounds like it was yanked straight out of a horror movie, I probably would’ve laughed in their face.

Okay, maybe not laughed. More like snorted and flipped them off.

But here I am. Windows down. Hair tangled in the wind. Sunglasses on despite the overcast sky. And a playlist full of angry indie girl anthems blasting through blown-out speakers. It’s giving "main character with trauma and a tragic backstory," I know.

I didn’t choose this town. My aunt did. She claims it’s peaceful, quiet, a good place for “healing.” But so far all I’ve seen are miles of pine trees, gas stations that look like serial killer hubs, and a general store where the cashier stared at me like I was the Antichrist wearing eyeliner.

So yeah. Healing. Sure.

I pull up to the cottage my aunt left for me. It's cute in a “cozy murder scene” kind of way. Ivy climbs up the faded brick walls, and the wooden porch creaks like it hasn’t seen a soul in years. I park the Camaro, take a deep breath, and step out, instantly regretting my decision to wear Converse instead of boots. The ground squelches. Great. Mud. Just what I needed to complete my sad-girl aesthetic.

The air smells like wet leaves and something else, metallic. Like rust. Or blood. Probably rust. Hopefully.

Inside, the cottage is dusty but livable. There's a fireplace, old furniture, and a massive antique mirror that I immediately throw a bedsheet over because I've watched enough horror movies to know how that ends.

By sundown, I’ve unpacked most of my clothes, eaten half a pack of gummy bears, and officially confirmed that the Wi-Fi is nonexistent. As in, I’m stuck with books and my own thoughts.

Kill me now.

I light a few candles, not because I’m romantic but because the electricity’s flickering like I summoned a demon just by existing. I’m halfway through reading the first page of some book titled Folklore of the Moonbound Clans (a.k.a. “Who Left This Cursed Shit In My Living Room?”) when I hear it.

A howl.

Long, low, and so close I drop the book and freeze.

“Okay,” I whisper to no one, “it’s just a dog. A weirdly emotional dog. Who probably needs therapy. Like me.”

But then another howl follows it. And another. A chorus. Closer.

I walk to the window and peer out. The forest is right at my backyard. Literally, trees start where the grass ends. And just beyond them, I see movement. Fast. Dark. Shifting.

I blink. Nothing.

I slam the curtains shut and lock the front door. Twice.

The next morning, I convince myself it was just nerves. Moving into a strange place with no human interaction and too many squirrels could mess with anyone’s brain. I decide to explore the town and check out the local college I’ve enrolled in, Red Hollow Community College. Again, the horror movie vibes are immaculate.

The campus is small. Like, blink-and-you-miss-it small. Old buildings, creepy statues of wolves, and staff who look like they’ve seen things. I’m in line at the admissions office when I feel it, eyes on me.

I glance back, and that’s when I see him.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in all black like he’s in a biker gang that only recruits people with absurd bone structure. His hair is messy, dark brown, and his jawline could slice bread. But it's his eyes that make me pause.

They’re gold.

Not brown. Not hazel. Gold. Like molten metal catching sunlight that doesn’t exist.

Our eyes lock. He doesn’t look away. Neither do I.

"You're staring," I say aloud before I can stop myself.

His lips twitch. Not quite a smile. More like he’s amused. Or annoyed.

"You're new," he replies, voice deep, low, like a warning wrapped in velvet.

"And you’re dramatic."

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything else. Just turns and walks away.

I stare after him, heart inexplicably pounding. What the hell was that?

The lady at the desk clears her throat, pulling me back to reality. “That’s Kael Thorn,” she mutters, like she’s letting me in on a deadly secret. “You’d do well to stay away from him.”

“Because...?”

She leans in. “Because he’s dangerous.”

I nod slowly. “Cool. Adding him to my ‘probably a vampire’ list.”

She doesn’t laugh.

By noon, I’ve run into Kael three more times. Once at the library. Once near the parking lot. And once outside my English Lit class where he leaned against the wall like a damn Calvin Klein ad, arms crossed, watching me.

“Are you stalking me, or do you just have bad timing?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Maybe I’m making sure you survive your first week.”

“By lurking like a hot Grim Reaper?”

That almost earns a smile.

He steps closer, and suddenly I forget how to breathe. I can feel the heat coming off him. The energy. Like his presence shifts the air itself. My skin tingles.

“You smell different,” he murmurs.

I step back. “Okay, creepy much?”

He blinks slowly, and for a moment—just a moment—his eyes flash brighter. Like gold fire.

Before I can respond with more sarcasm, he turns and walks off again, leaving me standing there like an idiot who just got sniffed by a model with anger issues.

Later that night, I dream.

Not the kind of dream you forget when you wake up. This one is... vivid.

I’m in the woods, barefoot, running. The moon is full—huge. My lungs burn. My heart pounds. I’m not scared. I’m hungry.

A shadow runs beside me. A wolf. Massive. Black fur. Golden eyes.

Kael.

Except it’s not him. It’s more than him. It’s like his rage and darkness took form and grew fangs.

I wake up drenched in sweat, heart racing, nails digging into the bedsheet.

My hands hurt.

When I turn on the light, I freeze.

There are four deep scratches on the wall beside my bed.

Like claws.