CHAPTER TWO

I don’t scream.

That’s the weirdest part, I dIdn’t scream when I saw the claw marks.

I just sit there, staring at the gashes in the wood like they’re not real. Like maybe if I blink enough times, they’ll vanish and I’ll go back to worrying about boring things like Wi-Fi and how many days I can live on instant noodles.

But they’re still there.

Four long, deep grooves. Like something with claws reached out and tried to grab me.

I run a shaking hand over the marks. They’re real. Splintered wood. Still fresh.

“What the hell…”

I check the door. Still locked. Windows? Sealed. No signs of a break-in. Which means…

Nope. Not going there. I probably sleepwalked or something. Or I had a knife in my hand while dreaming like a lunatic. Happens to people… right?

Still, I don’t sleep the rest of the night. I sit curled up on the couch, hoodie over my head, eyes fixed on that wall like it might grow teeth.

Morning comes with a headache and zero answers.

I throw on ripped jeans, a black crop top, and my best fake confidence. If I’m going to die in this cursed town, I might as well look cute doing it. My eyeliner’s sharp enough to take down a man, possibly the only weapon I trust right now.

Campus is quieter than usual. Or maybe I’m just noticing things more. The way people whisper when I pass. The side glances. The subtle shifts in posture, like they’re not sure what to make of me.

And then there’s him.

Kael.

Standing by the fountain, arms crossed over his chest, like he’s guarding something. Or waiting. For me.

I consider ignoring him. Walking the other way. But I’m not stupid. I want answers. And if anyone here knows why the hell my dreams are bleeding into reality, it’s him.

So I march over, chin up, heart pounding.

“We need to talk,” I say.

He looks at me like I’ve surprised him. Like I’m a rabbit stomping up to a wolf with a grudge and a death wish.

“You’re not ready,” he replies coolly.

“Ready for what?” I snap. “To wake up with claw marks on my wall? To dream about giant wolves chasing me through the forest? To have you sniff me and say cryptic crap like ‘you smell different’ like this is Twilight: Psychotic Edition?”

He blinks. Once. Then steps closer.

“You scratched the wall,” he says, low enough that I have to lean in to hear.

“What?”

His eyes lock with mine. “You. Did. That.”

I laugh. Like, ugly-laugh. Because surely he’s joking.

“You’re saying I clawed my own wall? Do I look like Wolverine to you?”

“You’re changing,” he says instead. “Faster than expected. Too fast.”

A breeze cuts between us. I catch a hint of smoke and pine. Him.

“What do you mean changing?” I ask, voice sharper now.

Kael studies me for a second, like he’s weighing the truth. Then he says, “There’s a part of you that’s waking up. One you didn’t know existed. It’s… wild. Primal. Dangerous.”

I cross my arms. “Yeah? Well, so is PMS.”

That earns a smirk.

But the humor fades quickly, replaced by something darker.

“You shouldn’t be here, Lyra.”

I pause.

“You know my name?”

He doesn’t answer. Just walks away.

The library becomes my safe haven. Not because it’s cozy, but because it’s one of the few places Kael doesn’t hover around like a sexy apocalypse. I spend the next hour researching the Moonbound Clans, flipping through dusty folklore books that feel older than sin.

Wolves. Curses. Bloodlines. Something about a “Marked One.” It’s all vague and annoyingly poetic.

But one page catches my eye.

“The Marked are born in human skin, but the wolf never sleeps. When the blood awakens, the change is irreversible. It begins with the dreams. Then the hunger. Then the hunt.”

I slam the book shut.

Nope. I’m not doing this. I didn’t sign up for some puberty-on-steroids werewolf drama.

I just wanted peace.

A fresh start.

A quiet town.

Instead, I get cryptic boys, nightmares with fangs, and a forest that howls back.

That evening, I try to distract myself with a walk. Dumb idea.

The sky is bleeding orange as the sun dips behind the trees. Shadows stretch long across the road, and the air turns colder by the second. I’m ten minutes from my cottage when I hear it.

Footsteps.

Not mine.

I stop.

So do they.

My heart thuds. I glance back.

No one.

I pick up the pace. Fast. Almost jogging.

The footsteps follow.

I break into a full sprint.

Branches snap behind me. Something growls. Low. Guttural.

I whip around, fists clenched. Ready to scream. Or punch.

But it’s not a person.

It’s a wolf.

Huge. Black as night. Eyes glowing gold.

My breath catches.

It steps forward. Slow. Deliberate. Like it knows I won’t run.

And I don’t.

Because I know those eyes.

“Kael?” I whisper.

The wolf freezes.

Then, before I can say more, it turns and vanishes into the woods, silent as smoke.

Back home, I don’t eat. I don’t shower. I just sit at the edge of my bed and try to convince myself I’m sane.

A knock on the door snaps me out of my spiral.

I peek through the window.

It’s not Kael.

It’s a girl.

Tall, blonde, dressed like a P*******t witch. Black boots. Leather skirt. A silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon.

She looks up at me, and for some reason, I open the door.

“You’re Lyra,” she says. Not a question.

“Who wants to know?”

She smiles, sharp and elegant. “Name’s Astrid. I’m like… the unofficial welcome committee for the weird people in Red Hollow.”

“Oh. So, like, cults and werewolves?”

She doesn’t flinch.

She just walks in like she owns the place and plops down on my couch.

“I heard about the claw marks,” she says casually, brushing imaginary dust off her skirt.

I stiffen. “How?”

“Kael told me.”

Of course.

I narrow my eyes. “You one of his fangirls?”

She snort. “God, no. He’s got too much baggage and a savior complex the size of Canada.”

I kind of like her already.

“So what do you want?”

She meets my gaze, suddenly serious.

“I’m here to give you a warning.”

I wait.

“There are two kinds of people in Red Hollow,” she says slowly. “Those who know what walks in the dark… and those who get eaten by it.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Which one am I?”

“Neither. Yet. But Kael’s not the only one watching you. And not all of them want you alive.”

She stands.

“Wait, what am I? What’s happening to me?”

Astrid looks at me with something like sympathy. Or regret.

“You’re the Marked One, Lyra. The last bloodline of the Thornbane clan. Which means… you’re a threat.”

“To who?”

She leans in.

“To everyone.”