CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE GIRL

I shouldn’t have worn this.

It’s not even that special, just an off-shoulder top. A little snug old thing I threw on this morning with my favorite pair of jeans. But now, in the quietness of the library, it feels like maybe I did too much.

Especially since he didn’t show up today.

I check the clock for the third time in ten minutes. It’s not even seven yet, but the sky outside is already black. Colorado winter does that—steals the light early, leaving everything feeling lonelier.

My shift ends soon and Khylon hasn’t visited the library today. He wasn’t here before my shift either. Yes, I checked the logs before 2 p.m. It’s actually part of my job. No casual visit. No slow scroll through the aisles. Nothing.

Not that I was expecting anything.

Maybe I was.

Stupid.

Leaning against the front desk, I pretend to reorganize the pens and say goodnight to Mrs. Miller when my phone buzzes.

BRITTANY: I left you some soup, get bread on your way back. Don’t stay too late!

I type back a quick heart emoji, but my mind is still wandering.

Maybe I imagined the whole thing. The way he looked at me last night like I was the only person in the room. Maybe I made it all up, or I weirded him out, and that’s why he’s not here to work on his research.

I got a few compliments at school, finally, I’m wearing something other than sweatpants.

“You look good today,” I remember Liam saying. “Like really great.”

I thanked him and laughed at a joke about forgetting to wash all my sweats. But now, walking through the quiet streets toward home, the memory makes me cringe a little. Liam is hot and all. The girls clearly have a thing for him, but I didn’t dress up for Liam. I dressed up because somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought Khylon would show up again.

No. I dressed up because Brittany asked me to. Yes.

I hug my arms around myself as the cold picks up. I cross the intersection, just three blocks from the apartments now. I tell myself I’m fine: a big bowl of whatever delicious soup Brittany has made is waiting for me. I have some bread and orange soda to go with it. I will sleep well tonight.

But then I hear footsteps behind me.

Instinctively, I quicken my pace, but so do the steps. I glance over my shoulder and see a man in a dark jacket. He’s whispering something I can’t hear and staring at me.

I don’t think. I run as fast as I can.

But I barely make it three steps before a hand grabs my arm and yanks me into the alley.

“No. Please!” I scream, thrashing in his grip, slamming my fist into something hard. The man curses and tries to muffle me. The other one just laughs.

“Shut her up.”

I don’t stop fighting. My arm burns where he’s gripping me. Maybe if I twist hard enough, I can break free, even if it means bruising myself in the process.

“A little help here,” he barks. “She’s stronger than she looks. Grab her legs while I hold her down.”

My mind scatters into a million thoughts. I’ve never seen these men before. It doesn’t seem like they’re robbing me. So what do they want?

The second man joins us on the ground and holds my legs, pressing his weight on me while the other fishes something from his pocket.

A rope.

It’s no use trying to push him off, my limbs immediately go numb and my screams soften into a silent cry. Suddenly, I’m back in the plane, surrounded by smoke and burning flesh, and my dad’s body, unmoving and lifeless, is on top of me, shielding me. Suffocating me. I’m eighteen again, trying to breathe. Trying to move my broken arm.

A growl pierces the air, snapping me violently back to the present.

The grip on me loosens slightly as the man turns his head. The one holding my legs lets out a nervous laugh.

“Who the hell is that?”

Another growl. Closer now. And then I see it, something massive steps into the alley.

Eyes glowing faintly. Fur as dark as the night around it. A dog—no, a wolf. Huge. Muscled. Beautiful and terrifying all at once.

It doesn’t hesitate. It launches forward, jaws snapping. The man in front screams. I fall hard to the ground as my attacker lets go to defend himself. There’s a lot of grunting, snarling and groaning. I sit still, panting, heart in my throat. My body won’t move. My legs fail me. PTSD.

I watch as the men scramble into a car I didn’t even realize was there and speed off.

The wolf turns to me, blood staining its massive paws. But I just sit there in silence, back against the alley wall. It approaches slowly, its breath fogging in the cold night air.

I should be afraid, but I’m not.

The wolf lowers his head and snaps the rope with his teeth. He gently pulls at my jeans, urging me to stand up.

My hand reaches out without thinking. Slowly. Carefully. I touch his fur. It’s warm. Soft. Alive.

What are you doing Elowen ?

He lets me touch him and watches me with eyes I swear I’ve seen before. Not in real life, but somewhere. In a dream.

And then, just like that, he pulls away.

With a grunt, he disappears into the shadows, leaving behind only the echo of his footsteps and the scent of something wild and clean.

I sit there a moment longer, blinking back tears, trying to make sense of what just happened.