The Stalker Next Door: 44. The Wolf Who Owns the Wolves

The air in the cabin was a noose. Tight. Heavy. Unforgiving.

For two nights, Mara had let them circle her like wolves forced into the same cage. They paced, growled, watched each other through her. The First with his fire, the Second with his ice. They hadn’t touched each other since the fight — but their suspicion never left, and every moment pressed harder against her skin.

She was supposed to be the prey.

But something in her had shifted.

She saw it in the way their eyes followed her. In the way they swallowed their pride rather than risk losing her altogether.

For the first time since this nightmare began, Mara realized:

They were the ones trapped.

The chance came at dawn.

She woke to the First’s arm heavy across her waist, his breath rough against the back of her neck. Across the room, the Second sat in the chair, eyes red from sleeplessness, staring like a sentinel.

Mara didn’t shrink between them. She didn’t cower.

Instead,