Chapter Three: Eyes in the Dark

Evelyn

The forest had never felt dangerous before.

Even when I was little, slipping through the trees barefoot with leaves in my hair, it had always felt like a friend. A secret place. Mine.

But not tonight.

Tonight, the woods felt like they were holding their breath.

Maybe it was because I wasn’t supposed to be here. Or maybe it was because something had changed—something I could feel, like static beneath my skin.

It was late. Too late. The sun had already sunk beyond the pines, staining the sky in bruised purples and dusky gold. I wasn’t far from the compound—only a few minutes beyond the inner perimeter. Still, if my father found out, there would be hell to pay.

But after today’s drills, I needed air. Not the kind that smelled like sweat and metal. The kind that smelled wild—damp moss and pine needles and something older beneath it all.

The forest had always felt like my secret reprieve. Even now, when I knew I shouldn’t be out here, it still felt like the only place I could breathe.

I crept deeper into the underbrush, hugging the edges of the main trail. A guilty kind of thrill buzzed in my veins. I wasn’t supposed to be here. Not after curfew. Not after everything my father had drilled into me about the “monsters” that lived past the marked line.

But I couldn’t sleep—not with the weight of his disappointment clinging to my skin like soot.

Maybe I was trying to prove something. I didn’t know. I just needed to breathe without being watched.

Moonlight filtered through the canopy in thin, silvery blades. The air was cool, scented with pine sap and something else—wild and unfamiliar.

My boots crunched softly on fallen needles. A few yards ahead, the trail dipped into a denser thicket where the trees pressed close like shoulders.

I stepped over a low branch and made my way down a slope slick with leaf mulch. The forest whispered—crickets, the rustle of wings, the wind.

But underneath it all… silence.

Too still.

I stopped.

There it was again.

That feeling again. Like eyes crawling over my skin.

I wasn’t alone.

I turned slowly, fingers hovering near the knife on my belt. A rustle came from behind—too deliberate for wind. Too heavy for a deer.

My breath hitched.

There was no reason to be afraid. Not this close. Not with my training. But fear wasn’t logical. It curled through me anyway, sharp and cold.

I turned slowly, scanning the trees..

Nothing.

Still the feeling didn’t go away.

The shadows stretched long. Every breeze, a whisper. The trees didn’t move quite right–like they were waiting. Watching.

No. 

Someone was watching.

“Hello?” I called, heart thudding. “Is someone there?”

No answer.

I took a cautious step back. The moon was barely a sliver above the trees, its light did little to ease the darkness swallowing the underbush.

I should leave. Get back to the camp before anyone noticed I was gone.

Another step—

A twig snapped to my left.

I turned toward the sound. “Who’s there?”

No answer.

I reached for the small hunting knife at my belt. It wasn’t much, just a training knife I’d stolen from the armory but it was better than nothing.

I crouched, every muscle tense.

Then I saw them.

Eyes.

Not just glowing. Burning.

Instinct slammed through me. I shoved myself back against a tree, heart pounding. The blade in my hand felt suddenly useless.

“Stay calm,” I whispered, though my voice trembled. “Don’t run.”

The forest wasn’t a friend anymore. It was a trap.

The eyes blinked. Then vanished.

A soft scrape of claws on bark echoed near my right side.

I twisted—just in time to see a dark figure dart behind an oak.

A werewolf.

I’d heard the stories all my life, trained to hate and fear them. Cunning creatures who stalked and killed without mercy.

Yet here, alone and vulnerable, I couldn’t shake the strange pull–the magnetic power of the forest now tangled with raw, primal terror.

I bolted.

Branches clawed at my entire body as I ran blindly through underbrush, muscles burning, lungs gasping. Footfalls thundered behind me—fast. Relentless.

“Stop!” a growl snapped through the dark, low and commanding.

I didn’t stop.

I veered left, then right, hoping to confuse them. But the steps followed, never missing a beat. They were herding me.

I skidded down a slope, hands catching on trunks. My legs begged to stop. I couldn’t.

I pushed harder but didn’t see the root until it snagged my boot.

I fell hard, scrambled up but I wasn’t fast enough..

A weight slammed into me, sending me sprawling.

I tried to crawl, but rough hands grabbed my wrists, pinning me.

My knife clattered away.

“Quiet,” a voice snarled close to my ear, breath hot and wild.

I struggled. “Please—I won’t tell anyone, I won’t—”

The grip didn’t loosen.

I looked up.

Yellow eyes. Sharp teeth. A snarl.

I was caught.

Fear hollowed me out as they hauled me upright.

The werewolf’s grip was iron, fingers digging into my skin. Shadows closed in, swallowing everything except the yellow that followed my every move.

Branches whipped my face, but the creature didn’t slow. The scent of wet fur and earth overwhelmed me.

“Where… where are you taking me?” I asked, voice small.

No answer. Just a growl as we climbed a narrow, hidden trail I hadn’t noticed before..

The forest felt different now. Taller. Crueler.

The moon cast silver light on metal cuffs around my wrists—cold and biting.

Bound.

I tried to wriggle free. Panic surged in choked sobs.

My father’s voice echoed in my mind. They don’t spare prey.

I used to think that was a threat.

Now I wasn’t sure it wasn’t a promise.

Suddenly, more footsteps echoed nearby. Others moving through the dark.

Crunching leaves. Growls.

I was surrounded.

Not just caught.

Claimed.

I squeezed my eyes shut as they dragged me deeper into the dark.

The forest no longer whispered freedom.

It roared with the promise of captivity.

It was my prison.