Chapter 7
Maya
The bonfire crackles in front of us. Sparks slither up into the indigo sky and vanish, like fireflies that forgot where they were going. Behind us, kids from school do what they do best, pretend they’re too cool to know what’s really going on here.
And me? I’m standing in the middle of it, just wishing it would be over already. Every second out here stretches too long, like the world’s holding its breath and waiting for something.
From somewhere behind the flames, a rhythmic drumbeat slows. Conversation fades. Heads turn.
A tall man steps forward, the fire painting his face in flickering gold. He moves with quiet authority, like someone who doesn’t have to raise his voice to be heard.
“This gathering is a tradition,” he says, voice deep and controlled. “Since before any of us were born, we’ve come together under the full moon to honor the ties that hold this community together. Tonight is no different.”
Whispers spiral through the crowd—some bored, some reverent. The man doesn’t seem to mind. His eyes scan the circle, pausing briefly on me.
I lean toward Bolton. “Who is that?”
Bolton keeps his eyes on the man. “My dad,” he murmurs. “He’s...kind of the leader. Tonight, he’s running the ceremony. People here call him Alpha.”
I nod slowly. Makes sense. There's something about the guy—like if someone handed him a crown, it’d look like it belonged.
“Will you both step forward?” he says next. Not a question. Not even a suggestion. It’s the kind of voice that doesn’t get disobeyed.
Bolton nudges me. Gentle, but I feel the strength behind it. I move, legs stiff, every step feeling heavier than it should. The crowd parts. Some of them look at me like they’ve already decided who I am. Others? Like they’re waiting for me to explode.
I spot Cassie across the circle. She doesn’t say a word, but the look she gives me could strip paint. If I didn’t already feel like an alien, that glare would’ve done it.
“Name,” the man says, his stare cemented to my face.
My throat’s dry, but my voice doesn’t shake. “Maya Ortiz.”
There’s a hiss across the fire. Whispered words, but I catch one: “Ortiz?”
Nice. Already a hit with the locals.
His gaze sharpens. “Daughter of Elena?”
I pause, then nod. “Yes.”
How does he know my mom?
That gets a bigger reaction—looks passing between strangers like I just confessed to being a serial killer. Or worse: not one of them.
He lifts his hand and the noise dies instantly. Like someone cut the power.
“Do you know what this night is, Maya?” he asks.
Out of the corner of my eye, Bolton is stone still. Not helping. Not even breathing, as far as I can tell.
“I thought it was a party,” I say, which earns me a few dry chuckles. Not the nice kind.
The man smiles—but there’s no warmth in it. More like a crocodile recognizing a snack. “Tonight, we honor the full moon. It’s not a celebration. It’s a reckoning.”
Yeah, okay. Super chill.
“I want to understand,” I tell him. It’s the only honest thing I’ve got.
He steps closer. Up close, the man feels like a mountain that learned how to speak. Not loud, but undeniable. He doesn't cast a shadow.He is one.
“You will.”
A howl splits the night air—pure and sharp, rising from the tree line. My spine snaps straight. It’s not human. Not even close. The Alpha closes his eyes like it’s a hymn. When he opens them again, his irises flash a silver blue that doesn’t belong in any biology textbook.
My pulse hiccups.
Bolton steps slightly in front of me, his stance shifting. Protective. Defensive.
“You brought her here,” the Alpha says—not to me, but to his son. Like I’m a delivery he didn’t order.
“She walks the edge between knowing and not,” he adds. “That edge cuts.”
Bolton doesn’t blink. “She won’t fall.”
“She may not have a choice.”
Okay. Nope. That’s enough ominous parental interaction for one night.
I step forward, jaw tight. “What does that mean?”
The Alpha doesn’t answer me. Typical.
Instead, he nods toward the rest of them. “Let the circle witness her,” he says. “Let the moon decide.”
The crowd begins to shift, students and strangers parting into a too-perfect ring around me and the fire. Instinctively, I step backward, but Bolton’s hand brushes my elbow. Not holding me in place. Just—there.
“What’s happening?” I whisper.
“They want to see if the moon recognizes you.” His voice is calm. Too calm.
“Recognizes me how?” I ask.
“If you’re one of us,” he says. “Tonight’s the night something shifts.”
My stomach flips. “What do you mean… something shifts?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
He doesn’t answer right away. Just looks at me with eyes that seem to hold too many secrets.
And suddenly… I’m not sure I want to know the answer.
Because something is happening.
A chant rises. Soft at first. One voice, low and rhythmic. Then another. And another. Like they’re building a sound bridge to somewhere old and wild. It’s not English. It’s... something else. I don’t know the words, but my bones do.
My skin prickles. My heartbeat skitters. Something deep in me cracks open like an egg dropped on tile.
Bolton reaches out. Not grabbing—hovering. “If anything feels wrong...” he trails off.
“Everything feels wrong,” I mutter.
And then it hits.
Not all at once, not this dramatic explosion. It starts with sound. The crackle of the fire separating into parts—the pop of sap, the sigh of wind, the croak of a frog twenty feet away. Then it’s smell. Everything is suddenly so sharp. Dirt. Smoke. Him.
My knees nearly buckle.
“Maya?” Bolton’s voice cuts through the noise like a rope.
“I—” I clutch my side. There’s pressure, like something inside me just realized the cage door’s open.
I double over, hand digging into Bolton’s arm to keep upright. I can hear people talking now.
“She’s shifting.” “No way.” “That’s not—she’s not one of us.”
My vision goes strange—colors too bright, the fire the shade of metal lava, the forest breathing. I can hear insects blinking. The moon is spotlighting me like it knows.
And… something deeper answers back.
“What is this?” I gasp, but it’s rhetorical. No one here can explain what I already feel in my blood.
Bolton’s grip tightens, grounding me. “It’s real,” he says, his eyes burning like coals. “This is the truth.”
“But I’m not—” I mean to say normal. But the word dies in my throat.
Because I know.
Something is... wrong. Or maybe right. But certainly not normal.
My legs give out and I hit my knees. The cool forest floor rises up to meet me like it’s been waiting. I press my hands into the pine needles and damp earth, heart racing so fast I can’t tell if it’s fear or adrenaline.
For half a second, I swear the ground pulses beneath my fingers.
The crowd murmurs behind me—too many voices, too many emotions. Surprise. Confusion. Maybe even fear. People are saying my name. My mom’s. “Ortiz.” Like it means something. Like it answers a question I didn’t know was being asked.
Why?
Alpha Sharpe steps closer, his voice low—measured and calm,but it carries in the sudden quiet. “The old ways recognize blood, even when it’s hidden,” he says, speaking to the ring. “The signs don’t always show themselves the way we expect. But they show.”
I don’t know what he means. I don’t know what any of this means.
Bolton drops beside me, kneeling as though whatever this is, we’re inside it together. His hand hovers near mine, not touching, but close enough that I feel warmth radiating from him like a lifeline.
“This is just the beginning,” he murmurs.
I turn to him, my breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps. My chest aches. My hands are shaking. “What’s happening to me?” I ask, but the words come out as air.
Nothing about this makes sense—not the heat crawling up my spine, not the way the firelight flickers like it’s alive, not the way my skin feels like it’s humming from the inside out.
Then everything slows.
Gradually, the strange pressure behind my eyes fades. The sounds fade. The chanting—I only now realize it was chanting—softens and dissolves. My head clears enough to know I’m still me, still here, still breathing.
Whatever that was... it passes.
But not completely.
It didn’t vanish—it retreated.
Not gone. Just... dormant.
Waiting.
I felt it. I know I did.
And whether anyone else wants to admit it or not—that means something.
It means I’m not losing my mind.
It means something inside me just stirred for the first time.
And whatever my mom’s been hiding?
It’s time I found out what it is.