The Weight of Secrets

Tyler POV

Her scent hits me like a punch, wild and raw, even as she stands there, frozen, staring at me like I’ve grown fangs. Vivian Harper doesn’t know it yet, but she’s the reason I’m in this nowhere town, playing high school hero when I should be running with my pack. Those hazel eyes of hers are wide, scared, but there’s a spark in them—something alive, waking up. I shouldn’t have said it. “You’re not what you think you are.” Too much, too soon. But standing in that field, with her scent screaming mate, I couldn’t stop myself.

I’m Tyler Grayson, and I’m in over my head.

The wind picks up, cutting through Westbridge’s damp air, and I force myself to step back. Vivian’s still rooted to the grass, her backpack slung low, like she’s deciding whether to run or fight. Smart girl. Most people would’ve bolted by now, but she’s holding her ground, even if her voice shakes when she speaks.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks, sharp enough to cut through my thoughts.

I hesitate. The truth’s a grenade—You’re a werewolf, Vivian, just like me—and I’m not ready to pull the pin. Not when she looks like one wrong word could shatter her. “Just… trust your instincts,” I say, hating how vague it sounds. “You’ll figure it out.”

Her frown deepens, but before she can push, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Cassian Holt, my pack’s second, probably itching for an update. I ignore it. He’ll have to wait. Right now, Vivian’s the priority, whether I like it or not.

“Go home,” I tell her, softer than I mean to. “It’s getting dark.”

She blinks, like she’s not sure if I’m dismissing her or warning her. Then she turns, heading toward the street, her steps quick but uneven. I watch until she’s out of sight, her scent lingering like a tether I can’t shake. The pull’s stronger than I expected, a low hum in my chest that’s got nothing to do with pack orders. This is personal. Dangerous.

I head for the woods bordering the field, needing space to clear my head. The trees are thick here, their branches clawing at the fading light. My boots sink into the damp earth, and I breathe deep, letting the forest’s pulse steady me. I’ve been on edge since I got to Westbridge—new town, new faces, and a mission that’s starting to feel like a trap. The elders were clear: find the lost wolf, bring her back. They didn’t mention she’d be a girl who smells like home and looks like she’s never thrown a punch.

My phone buzzes again. This time, I answer. “What, Cass?”

“Status,” Cassian says, his voice all business. “You found her yet, or we still playing hide-and-seek?”

“I found her.” I keep it short, scanning the trees. Something feels off, too quiet. “She’s… not what I expected.”

He snorts. “She’s a liability, Ty. Ethan’s already sniffing around, saying you’re distracted. You want alpha, you better deliver.”

Ethan Wolfe. The name’s a thorn in my side. He’s been gunning for my spot since we were pups, and now he’s got the pack whispering I’m too young, too soft. “Ethan can wait,” I snap. “I’ve got this.”

“Do you?” Cassian’s tone shifts, skeptical. “Word is, hunters hit a pack two towns over. If they’re moving this way—”

“They’re not,” I cut him off, but my gut twists. Hunters. The kind of humans who know what we are and don’t ask questions before shooting. Westbridge was supposed to be safe, a blank spot on their map. If Cassian’s right, I’m running out of time.

I hang up, pocketing the phone. The woods are still, but my senses are screaming—every rustle, every shadow feels like a threat. I move deeper, checking for signs. Tracks, scents, anything. If hunters are close, they’ll leave a mark—iron, blood, that sour tang of fear. So far, nothing, but that doesn’t mean I’m clear.

Back at school, the parking lot’s nearly empty, just a few stragglers and a janitor’s van. I’m cutting through to my bike when I catch it—a flicker of movement near the gym. Not a kid, not a teacher. Too deliberate. I freeze, my pulse steady but sharp. Could be nothing. Could be trouble.

I slip closer, sticking to the building’s shadow. The figure’s gone, but there’s a trace in the air, faint and wrong, like metal and intent. My hackles rise. Not a hunter, not yet, but someone’s watching. Someone who doesn’t belong.

I’m about to head back when I hear voices—sharp, mean, carrying from the field’s edge. I know that tone. Bullying’s universal, and Westbridge is no exception. I move quietly, spotting them: Lila Carter and her pack of wannabes, circling someone smaller. My chest tightens. It’s Vivian.

She’s backed against a tree, her arms crossed like a shield. Lila’s in her face, all fake smiles and cutting words. “What’s wrong, Harper? No one to hide behind now?”

Vivian’s jaw clenches, but she doesn’t answer. Her scent spikes—fear, yeah, but something else, something fierce, like a spark catching flame. I should walk away. Getting involved blows my cover, makes this personal. But my feet are already moving.

“Hey,” I call, stepping into view. Lila spins, her eyes narrowing. Vivian’s head snaps up, surprise flashing across her face.

“New guy,” Lila says, her voice syrupy. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Looks like it does.” I keep my tone even, but my eyes lock on hers, holding until she blinks. “Back off.”

Lila laughs, but it’s forced. Her friends shift, uneasy, and she tosses her hair. “Whatever. She’s not worth it.” They slink off, throwing glares, but I don’t care about them. I care about the girl still standing there, her breath uneven, her scent a storm I can’t ignore.

“You okay?” I ask, turning to Vivian. She’s staring at me, like she’s trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces.

“Why’d you do that?” Her voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it, like she’s testing me.

I shrug, playing it cool. “Didn’t look like a fair fight.”

She doesn’t buy it—I see it in her eyes—but she nods, brushing past me toward the street. “Thanks,” she mutters, and I let her go, even though every instinct screams to follow.

I’m back at my bike, ready to ride, when my phone lights up again. Not Cassian this time. Selene Archer, the pack elder who sent me here. Her text is short, coded: Moon’s rising. She’s close. Don’t fail.

I grip the handlebars, my knuckles white. The moon’s not just a deadline—it’s a trigger. If Vivian’s what I think, it’ll pull her power out, ready or not. And if I’m right about that scent by the gym, we’re not alone.

I start the engine, but before I peel out, I glance at the woods. They’re dark now, the kind of dark that hides secrets. Then I hear it—a sound that stops my heart. Not a growl, not a scream, but a howl, low and haunting, slicing through the night. It’s not one of ours. It’s something else, something old, and it’s calling her name.

I rev the bike, my eyes on the trees, but all I can think is: Vivian, what have you walked into?