The Wolf at the Threshold

Tension snapped through the forest like a live wire.

Birds fell silent.

Wind stilled.

Even the moss beneath Charlie's boots felt like it was holding its breath.

Matthew and Lysander hadn't moved yet — but their stares were doing enough violence to register as a minor natural disaster.

Charlie lifted her hands higher. "Okay. Before you two decide who gets to pee on which tree—"

Lysander spoke without breaking eye contact with Matthew.

"She came to my forest—"

"I came to walk," Charlie cut in. "To think. Not join a cult."

"We are not a cult," Lysander said calmly.

Matthew snorted. "That's exactly what a cult leader would say."

Lysander's jaw flexed. "Your ignorance is showing, hunter."

"My silver bullets are showing too," Matthew said evenly. "Want to keep going?"

Charlie dropped her arms with a groan.

"Fantastic. We're escalating."

Lysander finally turned from Matthew and faced her again. "Charlie. You stand between worlds now. You must choose—"

"Nope," Charlie said. "Stopping you right there. I'm not choosing anyone or anything yet."

Matthew stepped closer to her, positioning himself slightly in front — protective, stupidly noble, absolutely infuriating.

"Charlie doesn't belong to you."

Lysander responded with infuriating serenity. "Nor to you."

"Guys," Charlie said, "if you keep measuring your supernatural dick sizes, I swear I'll shift right here and make both of you regret this."

That finally earned a reaction.

Lysander's mouth twitched — amused.

Matthew's mouth tightened — worried.

Then the forest shivered.

Not wind.

Not animals.

Something deeper.

A pulse, faint but wrong, rolled beneath the earth like the heartbeat of a buried beast.

Matthew stiffened.

Lysander went still.

Charlie's wolf surged violently, fur bristling under her skin.

Her instincts screamed a single word:

RUN.

"What was that?" she whispered.

Lysander's eyes sharpened, turning molten-bright. "It's here."

Matthew's hand dropped to his weapon. "Where?"

Lysander tilted his head slightly, listening — really listening — as wolves do.

"Ahead. By the old creek."

Matthew swore. "That's near the industrial trail. People hike there."

"Not for long," Lysander murmured.

A howl rose from deeper in the forest — warped, too high, too thin.

It wasn't a wolf.

Not even close.

Charlie's blood iced.

The creature Matthew had warned her about — the one that killed a man — was close.

Too close.

Matthew stepped in front of her again, voice sharp. "We need to go. Now."

Lysander blocked him with a single step — a silent, immovable wall of alpha authority.

"You would drag her toward danger," he said, voice low. "Foolish."

"I would get her out of your territory," Matthew shot back. "Preferably alive."

"Alive," Lysander repeated, golden eyes narrowing, "is precisely why I will take her."

Charlie's temper snapped like a twig underfoot.

"HELLO," she barked. "Still here. Still perfectly capable of deciding which stupidly handsome problem I'm following."

Both men blinked at her like they'd forgotten she had agency.

Typical.

Before either could argue again, the forest gave another pulse — stronger this time. The branches overhead rattled. Something big moved between the trees. Heavy. Wrong. Mismatched, like limbs bending the wrong way.

Matthew's voice dropped. "Charlie. Stay behind me."

Lysander countered, "Stay close to me."

Charlie pinched the bridge of her nose. "I swear to God—"

A shape lurched from the shadows.

Charlie didn't get a good look — just impressions:

Too long limbs.

Too pale skin.

Teeth that didn't belong in any natural mouth.

And eyes—

Eyes like pits of ink, hollow and starving.

Matthew moved first. Gun up, stance solid, silver glowing faintly against the morning light.

Lysander moved at the same time but in a blur — one moment beside her, the next between her and the creature, shoulders widening, posture lowering, voice dropping to a guttural, alpha-deep growl that vibrated in her ribs.

Charlie's wolf leapt to her throat with urgency.

The creature screamed — a sound like metal tearing.

Matthew fired.

The forest erupted.

The creature launched itself sideways with horrifying speed — straight at Charlie.

Lysander slammed into her, knocking her out of its path.

Matthew shot again. Missed — barely.

The creature vanished into the trees in a blur of mangled limbs.

Then—

Silence.

Shaking silence.

Charlie lay in the moss, breath heaving, heart ricocheting painfully against her ribs.

Lysander hovered over her, one hand braced beside her head, his scent wrapped around her like forest fire. "Are you hurt?"

"I—" She swallowed hard. "No. I'm fine."

A lie. Her pulse was a mess. But physically? Nothing broken.

Matthew rushed over, dropping to a knee beside them. His hands skimmed her arms, checking for wounds, his voice tight. "Charlie, talk to me. Did it touch you?"

Her breath stuttered. "No. It didn't."

He exhaled — shaky, relieved, furious. "You need to get out of this forest. Now."

Lysander rose slowly, predatory grace in every movement. "She stays."

Matthew stood too, bristling. "The hell she does."

"She stays," Lysander repeated, "because this creature hunts her. And only my pack knows how to fight it."

Matthew stepped between Charlie and the alpha. "Your pack summoned it."

Lysander's eyes flashed — pure gold fire. "You know nothing of my pack's rites."

Charlie pushed herself upright, voice still shaking. "Guys—"

Matthew didn't budge. "She's coming with me."

Lysander's voice dropped to a lethal whisper. "Touch her again without her permission, hunter — and see what that earns you."

Charlie pushed to her feet.

Both men turned, ready to argue again.

She raised a hand.

"Stop."

Her voice cut cleanly through the tension.

Surprised them both.

"I'm not leaving with either of you," she said. "Not until I know what that thing is."

Matthew looked pained. "Charlie—"

"No. I need answers."

Lysander inclined his head, as if he'd expected nothing less.

"There is a place," he said quietly. "A safe one. Neutral ground."

Charlie crossed her arms. "Where?"

Lysander paused — then met her eyes with gravity she hadn't expected.

"Where wolves do not lie," he said.

"And hunters do not follow."

Matthew bristled. "Over my dead body."

Lysander's expression didn't change. "If necessary."

"ENOUGH!" Charlie snapped.

Both fell silent.

She sighed. "We go. We all go. Together."

Matthew shook his head violently. "Charlie, that's not—"

"It's happening," she said. "I'm done being the clueless one."

She looked at Lysander. "Lead the way."

For a moment, something like admiration flickered in the alpha's eyes.

He turned into the forest.

Matthew cursed under his breath — and followed.

Charlie stood between them, her wolf pacing inside her, knowing the truth before she did:

This was the moment everything changed.

She wasn't prey anymore.

She wasn't a bystander.

She was stepping into the world beneath the neon lights — the world that whispered her name in prophecies and hunted her in the dark.

And whatever waited ahead...

It wanted her.

Alive or dead.

She intended to choose which.