“Alex!” I scream, slamming the apartment door open with shaking hands. My heart thunders against my ribcage, the frantic beats echoing in my ears. The dimly lit room spins around me as I lean against the door, trying to catch my breath. Alex and I thought staying here would be safer than the pack house, but now I’m not so sure. Terror claws at my insides, making me nauseous. I can hardly catch my breath, each inhale feeling like it’s scraped raw against my throat.
Heavy footsteps pound down the stairs, growing louder with each step, and suddenly, Alex is right in front of me, eyes wide with alarm. “Hannah, what’s wrong?” His voice is taut, his face etched with worry lines as he takes in my disheveled appearance. He reaches out, almost hesitant, as if afraid of what I might say.
I open my mouth, but no words come out. Tears spill down my cheeks in hot, panicked streams. The memory of Collins’ determined eyes as he chased me replays in my mind, making me shudder violently. “He… he almost caught me,” I finally choke out between sobs. “He was so close, so close.” Just thinking about what could have happened if I didn’t get away makes me want to crumple to the floor. My legs feel like jelly, barely holding me up.
Alex doesn’t hesitate – his arms are around me in an instant, one hand cradling my head against his chest while the other rubs soothing circles on my back. “Who, Hannah? Tell me fucking who.” His voice is a low, dangerous rumble laced with a protective fury that should frighten me but somehow doesn’t.
“C-Collins,” I sniffle into his shirt, my voice barely audible. His embrace tightens, and I feel the growl that rumbles through his body, reverberating against my own.
“Collins,” he snarls, rage flashing in his eyes as he pulls back to look at me. The intensity in his gaze is both terrifying and reassuring. I quickly explain what happened, my words tumbling out in a terrified rush.
As I recount Collins’ words, Alex’ expression morphs from fury to shock, his eyes widening in disbelief. “He said that?” Alex grips my hand tightly, the pressure almost painful but reassuring in its solidity. He guides us to the couch, his movements gentle but urgent, as if sensing I might collapse at any moment. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice softer now.
I nod jerkily, feeling numb. “Yes… but it can’t be true, can it? I can’t be a…” I trail off, unable to voice the possibility.
Alex tilts his head, brow furrowed as he studies me intently. “Hannah, you know I can’t smell your scent,” he reminds me gently. “That could be the reason.”
I shake my head vehemently. “It doesn’t mean I’m a silver wolf! I’m nowhere near as strong as they are.”
A flicker of something I can’t identify passes through his eyes. “Maybe there’s an explanation for that. But you have to consider it.”
His words hang heavy in the air as realization slowly sinks in. What if… what if he’s right? A thousand fragmented memories bombard me – my parents’ distant looks, the way they sometimes treated me like an outsider in my own home. Things I brushed off at the time, but now take on a more sinister meaning. My stomach churns.
“What if they aren’t your real parents?” Alex asks, voice low. I must have spoken my doubts aloud without realizing it.
My eyes snap to his, body going rigid with shock. He can’t be serious… can he? But his solemn expression tells me he is. My mind whirls as the implications crash over me in waves. If my parents lied about that, what else have they lied about? Who can I even trust? Panic squeezes my chest until I can barely breathe.
“How… how can you say that?” I rasp out, throat tight. Tears burn my eyes again at the thought of my entire life being a sham.
Alex squeezes my hand, his eyes a swirl of concern and fear. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he murmurs. “But you have to admit, it would explain a lot.”
I want to protest, to deny it all… but I can’t. Because he’s right – it makes a horrifying sort of sense. A choked sob escapes my lips.
Alex instantly pulls me into his arms, cradling me against his chest as he strokes my hair. “Shh, it’s okay,” he soothes. “We’ll figure this out together. No matter what, you’ll always have me.”
His words are meant to comfort, but they only intensify the hollow ache in my heart. If my own parents betrayed me, how can I trust anyone? How can I trust the bond I share with Alex? The foundations of everything I believed in are crumbling beneath my feet, and I’m left grasping at air, with no idea who or what to believe in anymore.
***
The sounds of agonizing screams and splintering wood jolt me awake. I scramble out of bed, my small feet hitting the cold floor as I hastily slip into my fuzzy pink slippers. Confusion swirls in my mind as thunderous pounding of paws on hard earth and savage growls echo from outside. Something is terribly wrong. At only eight years old, I can sense the dread in the air like a suffocating blanket. The acrid stench of blood and fear assaults my nostrils, making my heart stutter with the realization that my pack is under attack.
The door bursts open, and Mom rushes in, her face etched with panic. “Aura!” She exhales a shaky breath, relief flooding her features at the sight of me.
I take in her disheveled appearance her raven hair in disarray, her brown eyes wide with terror and it confirms my fears.
“We have to leave now!” She doesn’t wait for a response, swiftly scooping me up and cradling me protectively against her heaving chest.
“Mummy, what’s happening? Why are we being attacked?” I ask, my small voice trembling as we race out of the Alpha house and into the chaos outside. Hundreds of silver wolves of all ages and sizes are locked in vicious combat, fangs and claws tearing mercilessly at flesh as they battle against dark-robed figures witches. A chill runs down my spine as one witch whips her head towards me, her gaze piercing and cruel. I bury my face in Mom’s neck, seeking shelter.
“I’ll explain later, honey. Right now, I need to get you to safety,” Mom urges, breaking into a sprint towards the tree line when a bone-chilling growl makes me snap my head up.
There stands my father in his magnificent wolf form, his silver fur streaked with black as he slowly stalks his prey a witch with nails like talons and skin as pale as fresh snow. Her lips move at an unnatural speed, uttering words I could never decipher, even if I wasn’t a child.
But her spells are powerless against Dad, as Aunt Hillary’s gift protects him. Among silver wolves, some possess the ability to shield, while others can harm with their minds alone.
Dad charges with a ferocious growl, aiming for the witch’s head, but her shield holds firm. I watch, helpless, as Dad struggles to break through while Mom carries us further and further away from the battle.
“Dad!” I cry out, stretching my small hand towards him in desperation. But I wish I hadn’t.
He turns at the sound of my voice, and in that split second of distraction, the witch seizes her chance. Her silver blade flashes as she plunges it into the side of Dad’s neck, sliding it through with sickening ease. I didn’t even see the moment she dropped her shield. Dad’s agonizing howl fills the forest as his blood coats his beautiful fur, and his powerful body crumples lifeless to the ground.
“No!” The scream tears from my throat, raw with horror, but it’s drowned out by the raging battle around us. Tears stream down my face as I reach out desperately towards Dad’s still form, his chest rising and falling with each fading heartbeat.
Then everything goes black.
I jerk awake with a choked gasp, my heart pounding violently against my ribs. Disoriented, I look around my familiar bedroom, trying to ground myself in reality. But the images from that haunting dream cling to the edges of my mind – the agonizing screams, the metallic scent of blood, the lifeless form of the man I called Dad.
My chest constricts as confusion and dread wash over me. Who were those people? Were they truly my parents or just figments conjured by my subconscious? I know I’ve considered the possibility that my parents aren’t my biological family, but is that the reason for this haunting vision?
I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my palms against them as if to push the nightmare back into the depths from whence it came. But the questions only multiply, swirling through my thoughts like a relentless storm. Why did that dream feel so real, so visceral? Is my mind trying to tell me something? Reveal some hidden truth about my past?
With a shuddering breath, I curl into a tight ball on my bed, hugging my knees tight against my chest. Tremors wrack my body as the haunting images replay in my mind – the snarls of battle, the sickening crunch of metal through flesh, the light fading from my father’s eyes. Fatigue pulls at me, but I know sleep will be an elusive specter tonight. All I can do is wait for dawn’s gentle light to chase away the shadows, praying it will bring clarity instead of more unanswered questions.