Lycan’s Hunt (Little Secrets Duet #2)
Chapter 1
· Aubrey ·
I check the chains one last time, ensuring they’re secured to the thick wooden beams in the cellar.
My hands tremble slightly, not from fear of the shift with the full moon but from what I could do if these restraints fail.
The cold metal feels comforting under my fingers, a promise of containment.
My breaths come out steady as I test each link, a routine that is as familiar as it is necessary.
I take a deep breath, knowing no matter what, I’m safe down here.
The cellar air smells damp and earthy, like the kind that clings to the back of your throat.
I can already sense the change in my body, an anticipatory ache that signals the beast within is waking up, and that instinct will soon take over and override all common sense.
I close my eyes, trying to calm my racing thoughts.
I take one last look around, making sure everything is as it should be.
That’s when the door creaks open above me, spilling a slice of dim twilight into my carefully prepared prison.
Max stands there in his favorite dinosaur pajamas, his tiny silhouette framed by the dying light.
His wide, innocent eyes are filled with curiosity and worry, and tears shimmer in his gaze as he peers down at me.
His tousled dark hair, so much like his father’s, falls into his face, and he clutches a worn-out stuffed dinosaur to his chest. Panic overtakes me at the sight of him. What is he doing here?
“Max! What are you doing here?” My voice pitches high and frantic, betraying the fear that grips me.
He shouldn’t be here, not now. Not on the one night I’m more monster than human.
If Max stays, he risks witnessing my shift, which is something no child should ever see.
Worse, in my altered state, I might not recognize him, and he could be in grave danger.
The thought of harming him, even unintentionally, sends a chill down my spine, amplifying my panic to get him to safety.
He takes a hesitant step forward, his eyes wide and uncertain. “I… I didn’t want you to be alone.” A wave of conflicting emotions crashes over me: love, fear, desperation.
I want to reach out and comfort him, to let him know everything will be alright, however I also need to protect him from the danger I pose. My heart aches with the need to reassure him, yet my mind screams for him to leave before it’s too late.
“Get out!” It comes out harsher than I intend, but he needs to understand the danger. “You can’t be here, Max. It’s not safe.”
I fumble in my pocket for my phone, the device feeling alien and clumsy in my hands. I need Soren; he has to get Max out safely before I shift. Except the screen stays blank, with no reassuring ring or vibration. I hit redial, desperation clawing at my throat—still nothing—no answer.
“Please, Max. You have to go. Now.”
His bottom lip juts out in the stubborn way I have come to expect. “No,” he says quietly, with more conviction than a boy his age should possess. “You’re scared. I can’t… I can’t leave you here alone.”
His statement stings like a blow to the gut, overwhelmed by his innocence. How can I make him understand? He’s just a kid; he shouldn’t see me like this, much less be near me.
I force a smile. “It’s alright. Don’t worry, everything will be alright.” I turn away, trying to erase any signs of my distress, not wanting him to panic. “I just need to figure out how to get you home.”
I move toward the cellar ceiling dome, peering out at the dying light.
I mentally try to work out the distance and time I have left.
If I stick to the shadows, I should be fine.
The moon’s touch will force the initial shift.
I shudder at the thought of trying to deny the moon.
I glance at Max. He can’t stay here; I can smell him, which means I’ill pick up his scent now that he has been here; I know I’ll either hurt myself or him trying to escape those chains.
“Bree?” Max murmurs, and I meet his gaze. His face is a mix of confusion and hurt, but there’s no time to explain, no moment to spare. Every second he remains is a second closer to disaster, to a slip of control I can’t afford.
Without another word, I grab Max’s hand and pull him out of the cellar. There’s an urgency in my step that brooks no argument, and he stumbles after me, still protesting.
“Come on, we need to move fast. I need to get you home!”
The forest looms just beyond my backyard, a dark wall of trees that will hopefully offer enough protection from the moon, it is the quickest way back to the castle.
Already, I can feel the itching beneath my skin, the impending betrayal of my own body as it prepares for the inevitable.
The moon, that cursed silver disc in the sky, peeks through the branches, mocking me as it rises higher and howls break out.
The wolves’ howls aren’t just a threat; they’re a reminder of how many rogue wolves reside in town that will also be shifting tonight.
Each eerie call pierces my resolve, urging me to move faster, to stay ahead of the transformation that threatens to consume me.
We need to stay out of their path; they pick up my scent or Max’s, and this can end badly.
Max stumbles over a root, and I have to pull him upright, his eyes wide and fearful.
The silver light of the moon spills over his face, highlighting the freckles scattered across his cheeks and the terror lacing his eyes.
He opens his mouth to ask a question and I shush him, my senses sharpening with each passing second.
Ahead in the distance, is the imposing silhouette of the castle looming against the murky night sky, an eerie sight amidst the darkness and the only light besides the moon taunting me through the leaves of the trees.
Within seconds, we’re off again, rushing through the underbrush, dodging low-hanging branches and leaping over gnarled roots.
As desperation fuels my frantic pace, I feel my control slip inch by inch.
An unforgiving chill radiates from my fingers up my arm as we continue our reckless sprint toward safety, accompanied by a dull roar echoing in my ears.
“Almost there,” I whisper more to myself than Max, trying to convince my muscles to keep moving, to obey just a little longer. As darkness settles around us, pain wraps its cruel fingers around my stomach, squeezing until I’m forced to double over.
“Are you okay?” Max’s voice is laced with concern, but it feels distant, as if coming from underwater.
“Cramps,” I manage to gasp out, each word spiked with agony. The transformation is close, too close. My vision blurs, trees and sky merging into a spinning carousel of colors. I must get him to safety before—
“Which way, Bree?” Max’s question slices through my disorientation.
I blink hard, trying to clear the fog in my head. “This way—no, wait.” Every direction looks the same, foreign and twisted. We’re lost, wandering aimlessly as precious minutes trickle away.
“Damn it,” I curse under my breath. I grab his hand and continue to drag Max through the forest. My heart pounds in time with our racing footsteps.
The crunch of twigs beneath our feet seems unbearably loud on this quiet night.
Then the sound of other wolves howling reaches my ears, and I know they can sense me; my pheromones are off the charts.
“Stick close to me,” I order him, my voice laced with an urgency that has him nodding, all protests forgotten.
We weave in and out of the shadows, the dense undergrowth pulling at our clothes as if trying to slow us down.
Another branch snaps under Max’s foot, the sound echoing eerily as I cast a nervous glance around.
Goosebumps lace my skin, and the scent of other wolves drifts under my nose as the breeze shifts.
Max’s breathing is ragged, a mix of fear and exertion, and his eyes dart around wildly, reflecting both the moonlight and his growing panic.
It seems now he is realizing the mistake he made by coming to find me.
His grip on my hand tightens, and he shakes my hand for reassurance that I’m struggling to give when the howls grow nearer.
Despite his obvious terror, he matches my pace, trusting me to get him home safely.
I’m beginning to slow, my body struggling to fight against the urge to shift.
We’re too late. The change is starting.
Panic seizes me as a shiver wracks my body. I can barely contain a whimper as my bones start shifting beneath my flesh. Every muscle burns as though exposed to white-hot flames—my sight wavers. The world is tilting on its axis, my vision and sense enhancing, morphing.
“No,” I grit out between my clenched teeth, stumbling and dropping Max’s hand. He spins around, worry etched across his face. “Bree?” I shove him away when he tries to touch me.
“What’s happening?” he asks, his voice trembling slightly. I can’t answer him, he pain is blinding now.
“You need to go!” I growl, jumping at the sound of my beast coming forward.
Without a word or explanation, I push Max away as hard as I can. I send him sprawling into a pile of leaves near a towering oak. He cries out in shock. I don’t have time to comfort him or explain again why he needs to stay away from me.
The first silver ray of moonlight brushes against my skin, and I feel it–the shift. It rips through me like a hurricane, bones contorting, flesh reshaping.
“Max.” The word is a growl, torn from a throat that’s no longer fully human.
He recoils, eyes wide with horror as the change overtakes me. “Run,” I manage to snarl, the command rough and guttural.