Chapter 5: Into the Woods

(Chloe’s POV)

Mornings in Blackthorn Ridge had a distinct mood—bleak and gray, with a side of get out while you still can. The mist hadn’t lifted when I woke up, and the oppressive quiet that had settled over the town yesterday still hung in the air, like a bad hangover that just wouldn’t quit.

I rolled out of bed, rubbing my eyes as I stared at the dusty beams of light sneaking through the edges of the heavy curtains. A half-decent night’s sleep hadn’t done much to calm the buzzing in my mind. Between Lucian’s ominous warnings and the strange sense of being watched, I felt like I was slowly unraveling a mystery where the prize was... my own doom.

Fun times.

I glanced at my phone—no signal, as expected—and then at the clock on the nightstand. It was still early, and the town probably wasn’t exactly brimming with activity yet, but I had work to do. And I wasn’t going to find answers by hiding in this room, no matter how tempting that might be.

I grabbed my notebook, jotting down a quick to-do list:

Talk to more locals. Get them to stop being so cryptic and actually tell me what’s going on.

Research town history. Maybe the library will have something more than just suspicious looks.

Avoid Lucian. (Ha. Yeah, right. Like that’s possible.)

With my plan of action scribbled out, I pulled on my boots, grabbed my jacket, and headed downstairs. The inn was as quiet as it had been the night before, and I half-expected the receptionist to materialize from the shadows again, but the lobby was empty. No ominous warnings about the wind this time.

Stepping outside, I was greeted by the same oppressive fog that seemed determined to settle into my bones. The town was still blanketed in a thick layer of mist, giving the cobblestone streets a dreamlike—or nightmarish—quality. If there was one thing I could say about Blackthorn Ridge, it definitely had atmosphere.

The streets were empty as I walked toward the town center. A few shops were just starting to open, their lights flickering on behind foggy windows. I could see the outline of the diner in the distance, its neon sign barely cutting through the mist. The place still felt like it was holding its breath, like it was waiting for something—or someone.

You, a voice in my head whispered, but I quickly brushed it off. Paranoia didn’t look good on me.

I decided to head toward the library first. If there was any place that might have records or documents about the town’s history, it would be there. Plus, I needed a quiet place to think—and libraries were good for that. Or at least, they were supposed to be.

As I walked through the mist, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone—or something—was watching me again. The sensation crept along the back of my neck, making the hair stand on end. I tried to ignore it, but it was hard to shake. Every time I passed an alley or glanced down a side street, I half-expected to see a pair of glowing eyes staring back at me from the shadows.

But there was nothing. Just empty streets and swirling fog.

“Get a grip, Chloe,” I muttered to myself, quickening my pace.

By the time I reached the library, the feeling had subsided, though it left a lingering sense of unease that clung to me like the mist. The building itself was old—like everything in this town—its stone walls weathered and worn, with ivy creeping up the sides. The sign above the door was faded, but the word Library was still legible, at least.

Inside, the air was musty, the smell of old books filling the small space. There were a few shelves of books lining the walls, along with a large, wooden counter at the front. A woman sat behind the counter, her reading glasses perched precariously on the edge of her nose as she flipped through a magazine. She looked up briefly when I entered, her gaze sharp and assessing before she went back to whatever article she was pretending to read.

I approached the counter, clearing my throat. “Morning.”

The woman didn’t respond, just gave a slight nod as she continued flipping the page of her magazine. A people person, clearly.

“I was wondering if you had any town records. Old newspapers, maybe some historical documents?” I asked, hoping to get at least a little help.

She finally looked up, her eyes narrowing. “What for?”

“Well, I’m doing a story on Blackthorn Ridge,” I explained, keeping my voice casual. “The history, local legends, that sort of thing.”

She stared at me for a moment, her expression unreadable, and then sighed, standing up slowly. “Everything’s in the back. Don’t make a mess.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, offering a polite smile that went completely unacknowledged.

The back of the library was even quieter than the front, if that was possible. The shelves here were taller, packed with books and records that looked like they hadn’t been touched in decades. Dust clung to everything, and the dim lighting made it feel more like a tomb than a library.

I found a small table in the corner and set my bag down, then started browsing through the shelves. It didn’t take long to realize that most of the books were about standard small-town fare—local history, genealogy, that sort of thing. But buried between the boring volumes on family trees and tax records, I found something a little more interesting.

Legends of Blackthorn Ridge.

The book was old, its spine cracked and its pages yellowed with age. The title alone made my pulse quicken with anticipation. I pulled it from the shelf and sat down at the table, flipping it open.

The first few pages were filled with the usual stuff—founding dates, town milestones, and the kind of folklore that every small town seemed to have. But as I read further, the stories grew darker. Mentions of strange disappearances, shadowy figures in the woods, and whispers of creatures that hunted under the full moon.

Wolves.

My breath caught in my throat as I skimmed over the passages. It wasn’t just talk of wild animals. There were stories—centuries old—of people who could shift into wolves. People who lived among the townsfolk by day but became something else under the cover of darkness.

Werewolves.

The word wasn’t used outright, but the implication was there, woven between the lines of legend and superstition. The old tales spoke of packs that roamed the woods at night, hunting by moonlight, their eyes glowing like fire in the dark. And it wasn’t just Blackthorn Ridge. These stories stretched across the region, with hints that nearby towns had once fallen prey to the creatures that called the forest home.

My heart pounded as I read further. There were mentions of rituals—binding ceremonies between wolves and humans, blood pacts that tied them to the land and to each other. There were even whispers of curses, old magic that had been forgotten over time.

I couldn’t help but think of Lucian’s warning the night before. You’re asking questions you shouldn’t be asking. He had to know about this. Hell, he probably did know. The way he’d talked about wolves—about danger—it was like he was speaking from experience. And if there was any truth to these stories, if there really were people who could shift into wolves...

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the old pages in front of me. Was it possible? Was I seriously considering that I’d stumbled into some kind of supernatural soap opera? Rational Chloe said no, but every instinct I had told me there was something real here, something ancient and hidden just beneath the surface of this town.

And Lucian—he was right at the center of it.

The door to the library creaked open behind me, and I jumped, snapping the book shut as I turned. I wasn’t sure why I felt like I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t, but my pulse quickened all the same.

It wasn’t the librarian this time.

Lucian stood in the doorway, his tall figure silhouetted against the dim light of the library. His eyes—those impossibly green, piercing eyes—locked onto mine the second I looked up. He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. The intensity of his gaze was enough to make the room feel ten degrees hotter.

“You really don’t take warnings well, do you?” he said, his voice low and smooth, carrying across the quiet room like a shadow.

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way my stomach flipped at the sound of his voice. “I take them. I just... ignore them.”

A small, humorless smile tugged at his lips as he stepped further into the library. “You shouldn’t.”

I watched him carefully, my heart still pounding in my chest. His presence was overwhelming, like the room itself couldn’t contain him. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you. I’m watching you.”

“Well, you’re going to have to work on your approach,” I said, doing my best to inject some sarcasm into my voice. “Because you’re coming across more stalker than guardian angel right now.”

His smile widened just a fraction, but there was something dangerous in his eyes. Something... feral. “Maybe I’m a little bit of both.”

I laughed softly, though it was more out of nerves than humor. “So, which is it, Lucian? Are you here to scare me off again, or are you finally going to tell me what the hell is really going on in this town?”

He was closer now, standing just a few feet away, his gaze never leaving mine. “You don’t want to know.”

“You don’t get to make that call.”

He stared at me for a long moment, the air between us so thick with tension that I could barely breathe. “You’ve been digging,” he said, his eyes flicking to the book on the table. “You’re starting to see the truth. But it’s not a story, Chloe. It’s not something you can write about and walk away from.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over me like a heavy blanket. “Then tell me. Tell me what it is.”

For a moment, I thought he might. His expression softened, just a little, and the darkness in his eyes seemed to shift. But then he took a step back, his jaw tightening as he shook his head. “I can’t.”

I stood up, my frustration boiling over. “Why not? You’re obviously trying to protect me from something, but you’re not telling me what it is. How am I supposed to stay safe if I don’t even know what I’m dealing with?”

He was silent for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, almost regretful. “Because once you know, there’s no going back.”

And with that, he turned and walked out of the library, leaving me standing there, breathless and confused.