Chapter Two

His beautiful green eyes were the last thing she saw before he ran away, the way his body twisted, every snap of his bone, and how he turned into half humanand half wolf. He had left her there in the dark, breathless and trembling, with heat still burning on her skin.

And then…

She woke with a gasp.

Her heart beat as if she had run miles. The sweat had filled her temples, her thin nightdress felt damp against her back, and her sheets were tangled around her legs. She pressed a hand against her chest, trying to calm the frantic thud of her heart.

It had been a dream. It was nothing serious just a dream.

But it hadn’t felt like one.

She placed her hand on her lips that still tingled from the kiss, her throat still ached with the memory of his mouth against her skin. Even the thought of it made whole body was alive with it, it was a restless hunger she couldn’t name. And those eyes, those amber, inhuman had pierced into her soul like fire burning skin.

She shoved the sheets away and swung her feet to the floor. The morning air was cool, brushing her damp skin, but it did nothing to quiet the heat flooding her veins.

This wasn’t the first time. For weeks now, she’d woken with dreams she couldn’t explain, she was either chasing shadows, running through forests that didn’t exist, or hearing whispers that weren’t hers. And this one was different.

This dream had a person. Or a wolf, she couldn't tell.

She passed by the mirror and her reflection startled her. Her wide grey eyes, and pink flushed cheeks, her white hair was sticking out in rough strands to her skin. And for one tiny second so fast she could swear it, she imagined it her eyes shined gold.

She stumbled back, blinking hard and when she looked again, they were only grey.

“Get it together,” she whispered, dragging her hands through her hair. “It’s nothing, just a dream.”

She had told herself that for weeks now and she was starting to doubt it.

****

Downstairs, the Liason’s estate was already alive with the movement of morning even though the day was yet to break. The servants bustled through the hallways carrying trays and polished weapons, while guards barked orders at one another in the courtyard, and the smell of cooking oil lingered in the air.

Her father was waiting at the foot of the grand staircase.

Garrick Laison stood like a pillar, he was broad-shouldered and immovable, he was every inch the man who had built a dynasty on blood and fear. His black eyes were as sharp as a hawk’s, and they softened slightly when he saw her.

“Now there's my girl,” he said. His voice, deep and fatherly, carrying warmth only for her. “Ready for today?”

Irvine managed to give him a smile, though her stomach twisted. “I’m ready.” this wasn't her first hunt, but she just wasn't ready for whatever this was.

Today wasn’t just any hunt. Garrick had promised it would be a private father–daughter outing. No guards, no students, no Mara. Just the two of them. She should have felt proud and chosen but instead unease filled her chest.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Mara.

Her stepsister stood at the edge of the hall, bow slung over her shoulder, hunting gear already strapped into place. Black eyes beneath her dark long lashes, her lips pressed in a tight line.

“Father,” Mara said, her voice deceptively calm. “I thought you wanted us all in the woods today.”

Magnus didn’t even turn his head. “Not today, Mara. Only Irvine comes with me. Alone.”

Something snapped across Mara’s expression, it was jealousy that could burn but then vanished behind a cold smile. “Of course.”

Her gaze slid to Irvine, sharp and poisonous, but Irvine looked away. She didn’t have the energy to fight Mara’s silent battles today.

Garrick clasped a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Come, little dove. We've got work to do.”

They rode into the forest at dawn, their horses’ hooves moving against the damp earth. The mist curled low between the trees, it was foggy, swallowing the world in silence.

Irvine tried to breathe it in, let the calm settle her, but something about the woods made her restless. Every rustle, every snap of a twig, they rang louder than it should. Her ears caught sounds farther away than possible: the flutter of birds high inthe sky, the tiny footsteps of a rabbit beneath roots.

Her senses were sharper, too sharp.

Garrick dismounted first, tying his harnesses to a branch with practiced ease. “The tracks will be fresher deeper in,” he murmured, his tone low but hungry. “Stay close.”

Irvine nodded and followed, bow slung across her back, though her hands trembled at her sides.

Her father moved like a predator, crouched low, every step silent and deliberate. He bent to the ground, pressed his fingers into the soil, and grinned. “Wolf,” he said, eyes flashing with satisfaction. “Ohhhh an elder one, sweet.”

Irvine’s stomach tightened.

They tracked the footprints of the wolf for nearly an hour before Garrick stilled, raising a hand. Irvine froze, her breath caught in her throat. That was when she saw it.

A werewolf.

It was old, its fur were thin and graying, its steps was uneven with a limp. Its ribs pressed sharp against its hide as it nosed through the underbrush, searching for scraps.

It wasn’t hunting. It was surviving.

Garrick lifted his crossbow, eyes at an alert. “Easy kill.”

Irvine’s throat closed. “Wait,” she whispered, the word breaking from her before she could stop it.

Her father shot her a look, sharp and cold. “What?”

“It doesn't look dangerous father,” she said, her voice trembling. “It’s old and weak. It’s not… it’s not hurting anyone.”

Garrick’s lips curled into a sneer. “Weakness is no excuse. A wolf is a wolf. You hesitate now, you’ll hesitate when it matters. And hesitation is what gets you killed.”

He thrust his chin toward her. “Take the shot.”

Her pulse thundered in her ears. Her hand fumbled as she pulled an arrow from her quiver, notching it against the bowstring. She drew, the string biting into her fingers, the old wolf lifting its head to meet her aim.

And that was when she saw its eyes.

It wasn't monstrous. Nor savage. It was just… tired. And something in them, something faint, reached for her.

Her fingers trembled. This was the first time she couldn’t release the shot

Garrick’s growl cut the air. “Now, Irvine!”

Her hands shook harder and the bow wavered. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t kill it.

With a snarl of disgust, Garrick ripped the bow from her hands. In one swift motion, he loosed the arrow.

The silver-tipped shaft sank deep into the wolf’s chest. The creature let out a sad cry, staggering, then crumpled into the dirt. Its body twitched once, then stilled.

The forest went silent.