The Stalker Next Door: 27. Wolves at War

The storm hadn’t broken yet, but the air in the cabin was heavy with it.

Mara could taste the violence, thick as iron on her tongue.

The first Watcher had been pacing the length of the hall all evening, his knife never leaving his hand. Every creak of the floorboards outside, every gust of wind against the shutters had his head snapping toward the window like a beast scenting blood.

Mara sat curled on the edge of the bed, knees to her chest, silent. Watching him was like watching a wire pulled too tight — inevitable, waiting only for the snap.

It came just past midnight.

A sound outside: deliberate, heavy boots on wet soil. Not stealthy. Not a mistake. A declaration.

The first Watcher froze, knife clenched, his whole body going taut. His eyes flicked to Mara, then to the door.

“Stay here.”

The words were gravel, dragged out of his throat. Then he moved, quick and silent, vanishing into the storm.

Mara’s breath hitched. Her heart slammed