🗡️ Chapter 03🗡️

I stood in front of the most towering, glass-faced hotel in Los Angeles, the morning sun gleaming off the surface with a brightness that felt like an insult.

The heat of the city was a world away from the ash and rain I had left behind, but I could still feel the phantom weight of the shovel in my hands.

I adjusted my dark sunglasses, pushing them higher up the bridge of my nose. They were oversized, a shield meant to hide eyes that were bloodshot and swollen from a night of crying that felt like it would never end. I still had enough money in my accounts, my parents had always made sure of that.

With a heavy, trembling exhale, I smoothed out my jacket and stepped toward the entrance. I watched my reflection for a split second in the revolving glass door, pale, hollowed out, and unrecognizable. I didn't look like a girl who had just buried her world in a garden.

I pushed through the door, the cool blast of the air conditioning hitting my face like a slap.

The lobby was a cathedral of marble and polished brass, smelling of expensive lilies and chilled air. It was a sharp, sterile contrast to the scent of wet earth that I could still smell on my own skin. I kept my head down, my fingers digging into the strap of my bag as I approached the long mahogany reception desk.

A young man in a crisp uniform looked up, offering a practiced, professional smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Good morning, and welcome to the Grand Horizon," he said, his voice welcoming. "How can I assist you today?"

"I need a room," I said. My voice sounded thin and raspy, like I’d been swallowing glass. I cleared my throat, trying to sound like a normal guest. "A suite. High floor. For a week, maybe longer."

The receptionist’s fingers danced across a keyboard. "Of course. Let me see what we have available for a long-term stay. May I have a name for the reservation?"

"Zelda," I started, then bit my tongue. I needed to start small, to stay under the radar. "Zelda Fischer."

"Thank you, Ms. Fischer. I have a Deluxe Executive Suite on the 42nd floor with a view of the city. Will that be satisfactory?"

"Yes," I muttered, sliding my credit card across the cool marble. "That’s fine."

He processed the card, the small beep of the machine sounding like a heartbeat in the quiet lobby. He then took a small plastic card from a drawer and tapped it against a sensor on his desk before placing it into a small gold-trimmed envelope.

"Here is your key, Ms. Fischer. You'll find the elevators just to your left. Your room is 4208," he said, sliding the envelope toward me. "Is there anything else I can help you with? Luggage assistance? A reservation for dinner?"

"No," I said, snatching the key. I could feel the weight of his curiosity, wondering why a girl in designer sunglasses looked like she was about to collapse. "I just need to sleep."

"I understand. Enjoy your stay."

I didn't answer. I turned and headed for the elevators, the plastic keycard gripped so tight in my hand that the edges bit into my palm.

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Once I got to the room, I rolled my luggage into the corner and let the handle drop with a dull thud.

I peeled the sunglasses off my face, dropping them onto the glass table before heading straight for the bathroom. I needed to wash the smell of smoke and graveyard dirt off my skin, but as I stood before the mirror, the steam from the shower hadn't even started to rise yet.

I stared at my reflection, looking for a version of Zelda Fischer that wasn't broken. My mind kept looping back to that one name. Alpha Drakan or whatever, a monster that kills and rips people's heart out.

"You won't get away with this," I whispered my voice cracking. "I won't let you."

The grief was still there, a heavy stone in my chest, but the rage was starting to burn hotter. He had taken my world. He had left me an orphan in a city that didn't care if I lived or died. He thought he could just walk away from the carnage he created.

But first, I had to find him. How do you track a shadow?

I sighed, a sound of pure, jagged frustration, and leaned my forehead against the cool surface of the mirror.

"I'll find you," I vowed, my eyes narrowing at my own reflection. "I'll find you, and I’ll rip your heart out while you're still alive to watch it happen. I’ll make sure the last thing you see is the daughter of the people you slaughtered."

----

After I finished bathing, I pulled on a pair of jeans and a basic shirt, feeling a little more human but no less haunted. I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled my tablet onto my lap, my damp hair dripping onto the screen.

I typed in the name: Alpha Drakan.

Nothing. No social media, no news articles, not even a mention on a local blog. Of course, he wouldn't be displayed right out in the open.

As the search results came up empty, I thought back to when I was nine or ten. My parents had sat me down and told me we were wolves. I remember laughing, thinking it was just a weird game or some elaborate bedtime story. But they were serious. We had lived in that mansion for as long as I could remember, my parents were there long before I was even born and they kept me sheltered.

I never went to a regular school as a kid; I had private tutors. When I finally reached high school, it was always the same: they’d drop me off and pick me up right at the gate. Then, suddenly, they shipped me off to the UK for college. I never understood why they were so desperate to get me out of the country.

I didn't know any other wolves. I didn't know anything about "kingdoms" or "alphas." To be honest, I had never even shifted. Sometimes I still thought my parents were just messing with me. I didn't feel like a wolf; I felt human. So to hell with the supernatural stuff, especially being a "figure-eight" wolf, whatever that was supposed to mean.

The glow of the tablet screen felt like it was burning into my retinas, but I couldn't look away. I scoured every deep-web forum and fringe science blog until my eyes blurred. Most of it was garbage, badly photoshopped images of oversized dogs or campfire stories written by people with too much time on their hands.

But then, I found it. A digital breadcrumb.

It was an archived thread on a site that looked like it hadn't been updated since the early 2000s. The post featured a satellite image of a jagged, mist-covered island, unlabeled on any standard map. The caption underneath made my blood run cold:

THE FORBIDDEN SHORE: Locals claim the wolves here don't walk on four legs. Sightings of 'beasts the size of men' have kept fishermen away for decades. Approach at your own risk.

I zoomed in until the pixels broke apart. It was a rock in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by water that looked black as ink. It was isolated. It was exactly the kind of place a monster like Alpha Drakan would call home.

"Found you," I whispered, the words tasting like copper in my mouth.

I didn't care about the size of the wolves. I didn't care if the island was forbidden. If that was where the heart-ripper was hiding, then that was where I was going. My parents had spent their whole life trying to keep me away from this world, shielding me until I was a stranger to my own kind. But they were gone now. The shield was broken.

I stood up, my damp hair sticking to my neck. The grief was still there, heavy and suffocating, but the rage provided a focused light. I grabbed my phone, my thumb hovering over the screen as I searched for any way to get to the island. I needed a ship, a trawler, a rusted-out tugboat, anything that could cut through the miles of black water between me and that coordinate.

It took me a few minutes of frantic scrolling, filtering through "luxury sunset cruises" and "family fishing trips" that made me want to scream, before I finally found it. A small, tucked-away listing for private charters and boat rentals down at the industrial edge of the harbor. The kind of place that looked like it dealt in cash and didn't ask to see a permit.

I gripped my phone tight enough to crack the glass. I could feel the adrenaline beginning to override the exhaustion, an electric hum in my veins.

"Just you wait, Drakan," I whispered into the empty, expensive air of the hotel suite. I pulled a jacket on. "I’m coming for you."