Chapter 3

Silence settled over the group. Not that these people seemed to talk much in the first place. In fact, it felt like none of them made any sound at all. I thought I might have made things worse by asking for something so audacious—by requesting to speak with anyone other than them.

And then I felt it.

The ground trembled slightly beneath my feet. At first, I thought it was a natural disaster, some quake about to ripple through the earth. But it wasn’t a disaster. It wasn’t natural at all.

My eyes darted to the entrance of the shed, where the crowd parted, creating a crooked, narrow path as if they had been shoved aside. And maybe they had.

A man—or rather, a creature in a man’s body—stepped forward.

He was immense, far larger than any ordinary human. His beauty was otherworldly, almost cruel in its perfection. Dark hair framed a chiseled face with angular features, but it was his eyes that held me in place—brilliant gold, glowing faintly against the dusky light. They burned with authority, with power, with something feral and ancient.

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. My body froze as if my instincts knew something my brain refused to accept: this was a predator, and I was prey.

Run.

The instinct whispered urgently in my mind, but my legs refused to obey.

Kneel. Beg for mercy. Beg for a swift death.

The thought horrified me, but it was hard to deny as the figure approached. He didn’t carry a weapon—he didn’t need to. Power radiated from him, every step deliberate and controlled. As his silhouette blocked the sun, his gaze locked onto mine, freezing me in place.

“Why is a human wandering lost in my pack’s territory?” he asked, his voice deep and resonant, tilting his head with a sharp, animalistic motion. His expression didn’t change, but the gesture was almost unsettlingly primal. “Or perhaps a better question is, why is our human food still alive and talking?”

“Food?” I choked out, my voice high and thin.

I turned to look at the others. They were all… human, at least at first glance. No fur. No claws. Nothing to match the descriptions of werewolves I’d read in old college books.

Then it hit me.

My heart sank as realization set in. This was a pack. Wolverines. Humans no longer bound by the limits of their kind. Or maybe they still were—until the next full moon, which would reach its peak that very night. Theories about the moon’s influence on wild instincts suddenly felt all too real.

But I couldn’t let despair win. Not yet.

The towering figure ignored me completely, turning instead to the man who had dragged me here. My captor straightened instantly, his posture rigid with respect.

“Take her to the warehouse,” the leader ordered, his tone calm and dismissive. “Strip the skin, carve off a few pieces of meat, and hang the rest for our wilder friends. Human flesh isn’t entirely edible, you know. But feel free to enjoy the parts worth savoring.”

I stood frozen, paralyzed by his cold, casual words. He glanced at me again, his golden eyes narrowing in faint disgust. “Though looking at her… I doubt there’s much worth eating. Just don’t take too long with your fun.”

Fun. The word made my stomach churn.

“What are you looking for here?” I asked, my voice trembling as I spoke to no one in particular.

I knew how foolish it was. I knew my only chance was to run and never look back. But some part of me, the part that refused to believe this was real, wouldn’t let me stay silent.

The leader didn’t answer, but his lips curled into the faintest trace of a smirk.

“Cook her tongue with vegetables,” he said instead, his voice almost mocking. “It might help the pups learn to speak faster.”

A low murmur rippled through the crowd. They were more than scavengers, more than a passing band of hunters. There was something deliberate in their gathering here, something dangerous.

Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed his arm.

The crowd gasped as one, and his golden eyes flicked down to where my hands clung to him.

“Listen here, you overgrown Neanderthal,” I snapped, my voice breaking as I spoke. “I’m not afraid to die—but I’ll be damned if I do so without answers. People are starving where I come from. Dying. I’ve spent my whole life searching for solutions, and the stars sent me here. I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s inside this shed.”

His gaze lingered on me, his expression unreadable.

“The stars don’t speak,” he said finally, arching one dark brow.

“They spoke to me.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then he laughed—a low, rumbling sound that sent chills across my skin.

“The stars sent you to the wolves’ den,” he said with a sneer. “There’s nothing here but us.”

“No medicine?”

“No.”

“No supplies? No drugs?”

“Nothing.”

Frustration surged through me. I released his arm and stared up at the sky, swallowing the lump of panic in my throat. Nightfall was still hours away, but I wasn’t sure I would live to see it.

“What am I supposed to be looking for?” I whispered to the empty heavens.

“Death, maybe,” the man said, his voice heavy with amusement.

His hand shot out, grabbing me by the throat. His nails pressed into my skin, sharp and unyielding. My breath vanished as he lifted me off the ground with ease.

“How long can a human survive without air?” he asked, his tone suddenly cold. “She’s lasting a while,” another voice replied—a woman’s, sharp and cruel.

The pressure on my neck was unbearable. Black spots danced in my vision as I struggled for air. My backpack slipped from my shoulders, the contents scattering across the ground.

It wasn’t the noise that made him stop.

It was the necklace.

As my belongings clattered to the floor, he froze. His golden eyes flicked down, and he reached for the small chain glinting among the debris.

My necklace.