Chapter 5
ELIZA
Ipress myself against the rough bark of a pine, chest heaving, my hands scraping dirt and bark.
My legs shake so badly I can hardly stand.
The hybrids—whatever they are—hang back now, snarling, circling the edge of the slope.
Cade’s presence is a wall between me and them, but I know it’s temporary.
I can feel it in the tension of his body, the way his gaze shifts constantly, scanning for any sign of movement.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he says again, voice low and clipped, but this time, there’s something else under it—something that makes my stomach twist. Concern. Possession. Something I can’t name yet.
“I know,” I whisper, though the words feel inadequate. “I shouldn’t have come. I… I didn’t have a choice.”
He narrows his eyes at me.
“You always have a choice. You could’ve stayed in town.”
I shake my head, the weight of my stubborn curiosity settling into my shoulders like a stone.
“No. I can’t. I had to see. I have to understand. If I leave now… I’ll never forgive myself.”
He studies me, jaw tight. Finally, he grunts.
“Stubborn. But alive, for now.”
There is a chilling hiss coming from the trees, a sound like tearing metal, and I flinch. My hands reach out instinctively, brushing against Cade’s arm. His muscles tense beneath my fingers, and I instantly pull back, self-conscious.
“Don’t touch me,” he says sharply. “Not now.”
I bite my lip, nodding.
“Right. Sorry.”
The forest feels impossibly alive around us. The hybrids move like shadows, silent except for the occasional snap of a branch or rustle of leaves. My heart pounds so hard it echoes in my ears, and I realize I haven’t truly breathed in what feels like minutes.
“You need to move,” Cade says suddenly, gesturing toward a narrow deer trail that winds up the slope. “They’re circling. If we stay here, you won’t get out.”
I swallow, fear twisting my stomach.
“Move? Now? Up that trail?” My voice shakes.
“Yes. Now,” he says, voice firm, and I know he means it. There’s no room for argument.
I force my legs to obey, staggering onto the trail.
My boots slip on loose dirt, and I nearly fall, but his hand shoots out instinctively.
I glance up at him, and for the briefest moment, the chaos of the forest, the fear, the blood-pounding panic—all of it—fades, replaced by something that makes my chest ache in a way I don’t understand.
“Careful,” he says, voice low. “Focus on your footing. Nothing else.”
I nod, gripping a branch for balance.
“I… I can do this. I can…”
A shadow darts across the trail, and I scream, stumbling backward.
One of the hybrids has broken cover, claws scraping the ground as it lunges toward me.
Cade is faster, intercepting it with a force that shatters the branches around us.
The creature yelps, retreating, but I can see the intelligence in its eyes—the cunning, coordinated effort.
“Stay behind me,” he growls. “Do not run off the trail.”
I nod, swallowing hard, trying to keep my trembling under control.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I promise, though every instinct in me screams to bolt, to hide, to vanish.
We move up the trail in tense silence. I glance at him occasionally, trying not to stare, but it’s impossible not to notice the way his muscles flex beneath his jacket, the way his eyes never leave the shadows, the way he moves like a predator himself—calm, controlled, lethal. My chest tightens in a confusing way.
“Why didn’t you leave when you had the chance?” he asks suddenly, voice quieter, almost curious.
I blink, surprised.
“I… I can’t just ignore things. Even if they’re dangerous. Even if I’m terrified.” My hands flex at my sides. “I’m not good at staying safe. That’s never been me.”
“You’re reckless,” he says, almost shaking his head. “Do you understand how close you were to…”
“Being killed?” I finish for him, swallowing. “Yes. I do. I know. I just… I couldn’t walk away. Not when I had questions. Not when I could see it.”
Every nerve in my body screams at me to run, to flee into the forest and hide, but I can’t.
Not when Cade is there, moving like a shadow that belongs to the woods as much as he belongs to…
something I can’t name yet. My brain races, trying to make sense of the pull I feel, the tightness in my chest every time he shifts his weight, the way my stomach flips when his eyes find mine.
“Why did you keep going?” he asks again, his voice low but insistent.
I swallow hard. “I… I can’t ignore things that feel wrong or incomplete. Even if it terrifies me. Even if it nearly kills me. I have to see. I have to understand.”
He doesn’t answer, just narrows his eyes. The air between us is charged, thick, impossible to breathe through. I realize that fear isn’t the only thing making my pulse pound. There’s something else. Something dangerous and magnetic.
“I shouldn’t be like this,” I whisper to myself, though I know he can hear. “I shouldn’t feel drawn to him when…”
The forest snaps around us as the hybrids move again, and my words die on my lips.
I jump instinctively, stumbling back into Cade’s side, and for a split second, we lock eyes.
His wolf stirs beneath his skin, tense, protective, and I know, somehow, that this is just the beginning.
My chest tightens, and I realize that surviving this night might depend not just on my legs, but on understanding whatever it is that Cade—and whatever he is—has awakened in me.
Cade doesn’t answer, just keeps moving, leading me up the trail.
I can feel the tension in him, something almost primal, coiling beneath his skin.
Something in his presence makes my own instincts react in ways I don’t understand.
My fingers itch to reach for him again, but I fight it.
I have to. I don’t even know what it would mean if I gave in.
These creatures are patient hunters. I can feel them circling above us, using the terrain to stalk us, marking a boundary we cannot cross. My skin crawls with awareness of their gaze. Every snap of a branch, every rustle of leaves sends jolts of adrenaline through me.
“They know I’m here,” I whisper. My voice trembles. “Why me?”
Cade glances at me, storm-gray eyes catching the fading light.
“Because they were trained to,” he says quietly, almost a growl under the surface. “You weren’t supposed to enter this forest. Not without protection. Not here.”
“I didn’t know!” I say, frustration mixing with fear. “I never even knew this place existed before I came. I didn’t know there were…” I hesitate. “Creatures like this.”
Cade’s gaze hardens.
“And yet, you still came. Despite warnings. Despite the chase you barely survived.”
“I…” I swallow. “Because I needed to see. I needed to understand. I can’t just ignore the forest, the town, the history. I… I have to know what’s real.”
A silence stretches between us, broken only by distant snarls and the wind rustling through the pines. He studies me in a way that makes my stomach twist—like he’s weighing not just my actions, but my soul.
“You’re alive because I’m here,” he says finally. “Not because you were prepared.”
“I know,” I whisper, but my throat is tight. “And I’m… grateful. Terrified. And… I don’t even know how to explain it, but I trust you.”
The words hang between us, fragile but undeniable. His eyes soften just slightly, and I can feel something shift in the air—something between us that terrifies me almost as much as the forest itself.
The monsters grow bold, stepping closer to the trail. Their low snarls reverberate through the earth. My pulse spikes, and Cade tenses beside me.
“Stay behind me,” he says again, and this time there’s no room for negotiation.
I do. I press my back against the rough bark, eyes darting as the creatures circle, calculating, patient predators.
I feel the cold edge of fear slice through me, but beneath it…
there’s a flicker of something else. Recognition.
A pull I can’t name. A sensation in my chest that tightens whenever Cade moves, whenever he speaks, whenever the wolf inside him growls low in warning.
“You’re not leaving me here,” I whisper without thinking.
His gaze snaps to mine, sharp and intense.
“Of course not! But you shouldn’t be here,” he says, voice rough, almost a growl. “Not now. Not ever. And yet… you are. And I will not let them touch you.”
I blink up at him, the words sinking in, and my chest aches. Not just from fear, but from something unfamiliar, something raw.
“Thank you,” I whisper, and the word feels too small for what I feel.
The things lunge again, but Cade intercepts them, moving like a shadow with impossible strength. I watch, frozen in awe and terror, as he dispatches them with lethal precision. Each strike, each movement, reminds me that I am utterly dependent on him—and yet, inexplicably, I am drawn to him.
When the last creature retreats into the underbrush, leaving the clearing eerily quiet except for our heavy breaths, Cade finally turns to me. His storm-gray eyes are locked on mine, unreadable but intense.
“You should never have come here alone,” he says, voice low, almost intimate, almost unbearable.
“I couldn’t… I couldn’t have stayed away,” I admit, voice trembling. “I needed to see. I needed to know. Even if it nearly got me killed.”
He steps closer, the tension between us coiling like a spring. His wolf stirs within him, and I don’t understand what that means, but I feel it. A pull I cannot resist. A fire that sparks deep in my chest.
“Trust me,” he murmurs, almost softly, almost gentle—yet there’s an edge to it that makes my blood hum.
“I do,” I whisper. “Even though I’m terrified.”
He inclines his head slightly, just enough for me to see the faintest acknowledgment of something unspoken between us.
“Good,” he says. “Because I’m not letting you go. Not tonight. Not ever.”
And in that moment, even as fear lingers in the air, even as the forest seems impossibly alive around us, I realize… I don’t want him to.