Chapter 23
Noelle
I woke to the sound of a low, threatening growl.
We’d both gotten dressed—at least a little—when we’d let Milo into the tent a couple hours after going to bed. Everyone had taken the opportunity to rib us for keeping them up with our sex noises, blah blah blah…but I kept my ring hidden.
This was secret…just for us, for now.
Nobody else had to know.
Well, except Milo.
Now, though, Milo was awake, growling in the middle of the night.
I sat up fast, heart thudding, the cool air biting at my arms where the blanket fell away. Milo was hunkered down by the tent flap, hackles up, eyes locked on the zipper.
“Shh,” I whispered, voice rough with sleep. “It’s okay, buddy.”
I reached out to run my hand down his side…but he didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
My pulse kicked up a beat.
Beau stirred beside me. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked, sitting up.
“Milo’s freaking out.”
He sat up fast, tension rippling off him. He was shirtless, sweats slung low on his hips. If there was something out there…
“I’m gonna get dressed,” I muttered. “Just in case—”
But before I could finish my sentence, the zipper on the tent started to move.
We both sat there, staring at the zipper along with Milo, Beau reaching out slowly to put his arm in front of me—as if that would do anything. “It’s…it’s probably just Whit or Shane fucking with us,” I whispered. “Gotta be—”
The zipper inched downward, teeth parting one by one in slow, jerking stutters. Not smooth like someone pulling it with confidence. Like someone—or something—was figuring it out as they went.
“No way Shane’s this committed,” Beau muttered.
Milo growled louder. Beau reached behind him, grabbed the flashlight off the gear pile, and thumbed it on. The light flared, catching the glint of the zipper tab just as it stopped moving. Whoever had been opening it…wasn’t anymore.
“Hello?” I said, instantly regretting it. My voice sounded too thin, too bright.
Nothing.
Not a footstep. Not a breath.
Beau moved closer to the flap, crouching low, the flashlight trained steady. “You stay behind me,” he said again, not looking back.
I grabbed the closest hoodie—his—and threw it over my tank top, my fingers fumbling with the sleeves. I didn’t even bother with shoes.
Beau eased the flap open.
The flashlight beam cut through the dark, and we both leaned forward—
Nothing.
No one.
The fire pit outside had burned low, just faint orange coals in a ring of ash.
The folding chairs were still in a half-circle where we’d left them.
The cooler was tipped a little, like someone had bumped it, but there was no sign of another person.
No footprints. No flashlight beam retreating into the woods.
“Could’ve been an animal,” I whispered.
“Could’ve been,” Beau said, but he didn’t believe it. I didn’t either.
We stepped out into the cold.
Milo followed, fur still bristling, his body tight with warning. Beau’s hand found the small of my back. My whole body was still humming from the memory of his mouth on me, his voice in my ear. But that comfort had been peeled back now, stripped away by whatever was waiting out here.
I turned slowly in a circle, taking in the trees, the shadowy trail leading back to the cars. “I don’t like this.”
“Me neither.” Beau rubbed his jaw. “You wanna grab your stuff?”
I didn’t answer.
I couldn’t.
Because I was looking straight into the trees…into the eyes of something that couldn’t be there.
It was about twenty feet away, cloaked in shadows, moonstone eyes glimmering in the last vestiges of firelight. A giant cat…perched on an oak branch, inky black wings folded at its back. Its tail flicked, and I realized that tail was barbed, a sharp point catching the light.
I’d never seen it so clearly before.
Not even the night my brother died.
I took a shuddering breath, panic rising. “Oh…oh God…”
“Noelle?” Delilah’s voice cut in. I turned—
And when I looked back, the Painter was gone.
Shane was coming out of his tent now, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Did you see something?”
“I—I don’t know,” I said, but my voice trembled with the lie. “I think we need to get out of here.”
Beau caught my eye. “You saw it, didn’t you?”
I nodded, breath shivering in my chest.
“Okay,” he said. “We’re not staying out here. Grab your stuff.”
I ducked back into the tent, hands moving on autopilot. Shoved my notebook and flashlight into my backpack. Jammed my feet into sneakers without socks. I didn’t bother rolling anything up. I didn’t care if we left the damn tent behind.
Beau was already outside, slinging his bag over his shoulder and double-checking Milo’s collar. His voice was low when he said, “Delilah, wake the others. Quietly.”
Delilah didn’t ask questions. She nodded and disappeared toward Whit and Holden’s tent.
I zipped the tent closed behind me—not that it felt like it would keep anything out—and slipped my backpack on. “Trailhead’s that way, right?” I whispered.
Beau nodded. “We’ll stay close. Flashlights on low.”
We moved in a tight cluster, the six of us bunching up without really meaning to—shoulders brushing, flashlights flicking back and forth. Milo trotted ahead, still tense but quiet now, ears twitching at every sound.
“Okay, someone wanna explain what the fuck is happening?” Shane hissed. He was pulling on a hoodie over pajama pants, his hiking boots unlaced, phone clenched in one hand.
“Later,” Delilah said. “Let’s just get to the cars.”
Whit kept glancing over his shoulder like he expected something to be following us. “Why’d we come out here again?”
“Research,” Holden muttered, voice clipped.
“Right,” Whit said. “Next time let’s research the bar on Main Street instead.”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. My throat was dry. I kept replaying the Painter’s eyes. The wings. That tail. It hadn’t looked like it wanted to hurt me. It hadn’t even moved.
It just…watched.
Like it was waiting to see if I got the message.
“Shouldn’t the trailhead be just past that bend?” Beau asked.
We came around the curve—and stopped short.
There was no trailhead.
Just more trees. Thick, dark, and endless.
“Shit,” Whit said.
“Did we miss it?” Holden asked. “Did we take a wrong fork?”
“There wasn’t a fork,” Delilah said. “There was one trail in, and this is it.”
“Noelle?” Beau looked at me.
I shook my head. “We didn’t go wrong. We went too far.”
“What does that mean?” Shane asked.
Before I could answer, his phone buzzed in his hand, loud in the silence. He jumped, then frowned down at the screen.
“Trail cam,” he said. “One of mine just pinged.”
Everyone stilled.
“Which one?” I asked.
He flicked through his screen. “Cam Four. That’s…two miles deeper into the woods.”
“Something tripped it?” Delilah asked.
Shane nodded slowly. “Yeah. But there’s nothing in the image.” He tilted the screen toward us. Just grainy trees. Mist. A faint smear of light, like fog catching moonlight.
Then the phone buzzed again.
Cam Six.
Same thing.
No movement. No animal. Just…that smear.
Another ping.
Another camera.
“Okay,” Holden said tightly. “What the hell does that?”
Shane was pale now, thumb frozen over the screen. “I don’t know. There’s no wind. No debris. It’s like they’re getting triggered by…nothing.”
Not nothing.
I didn’t say it out loud, but I knew. Something was moving. Something we couldn’t see. The Painter had been a warning, and whatever it had been warning me about—
It was already here.
Milo whined.
Everyone fell silent again.
“Back to camp?” Whit asked, voice low.
“No,” Beau said. “We keep going. Trailhead has to be close. It has to be.”
We kept moving, slower now, like walking through water. My flashlight flickered once, and my stomach dropped.
“I think we’re being herded,” I whispered.
Delilah turned to look at me, eyes sharp. “By what?”
I didn’t know how to answer, but the woods didn’t feel like woods anymore.
They felt like a hallway.
And we were walking deeper into something’s house.