Chapter 9
ELIZA
Iwake to the smell of coffee. For a moment I forget where I am.
The ceiling above me is unfamiliar—rough wooden beams instead of the cracked plaster of my apartment. The blankets are heavier, warmer, and the faint scent of pine drifts through the room.
Then my ribs protest when I move. The forest crashes back into my memory. The creatures. The chase. Cade.
My eyes snap open.
I push myself up slowly, ignoring the ache in my side. Sunlight spills through the cabin window, painting golden lines across the wooden floor.
Someone moves in the small kitchen area across the room. Cade.
He’s standing by the counter pouring coffee into two mugs like nothing in the world is wrong. Like last night didn’t happen.
He glances up immediately.
“You shouldn’t be sitting up yet.”
His voice is calm, but there’s something sharp beneath it—like he’s been watching me for hours.
“Good morning to you too,” I heave.
He crosses the room in three long strides and gently pushes me back against the pillows.
“Your ribs are bruised,” he says. “Clara said you need to rest.”
“I’ve had worse injuries,” I reply.
His eyebrow lifts slightly.
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
I study him. The same question that’s been clawing at my brain since last night finally pushes its way out.
“What were those things?”
Cade doesn’t answer right away. Instead he hands me the mug of coffee. The smell alone convinces me to take it.
“I told you,” he says. “Predators.”
I stare at him over the rim of the mug.
“Predators don’t move like that,” I say flatly.
He doesn’t respond.
“And predators definitely don’t get ripped apart by a guy who fights like a one-man demolition crew.”
Still nothing. My patience snaps.
“Cade.”
His eyes lift to mine. For a moment the room goes very still.
“You deserve the truth,” he says finally.
My stomach tightens.
“That’s encouraging and terrifying at the same time.”
He exhales slowly.
“You’re not going to like it.”
“Try me.”
For a long moment he just watches me, like he’s measuring something. Then he turns toward the door.
“Nolan,” he calls.
The door opens almost instantly. A man I vaguely remember from last night strolls inside, looking far too cheerful for someone walking into a tense conversation.
“Morning,” he says.
I blink at him.
“Were you standing outside the whole time?”
“Pretty much.”
Cade gestures toward him.
“Eliza, this is Nolan.”
Nolan gives a small wave.
“Nice to meet you under slightly less violent circumstances.”
I set my coffee down.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “What’s going on?”
Cade folds his arms.
“You asked what attacked you.”
“Yes.”
“They weren’t normal animals.”
“I figured that out when one of them tried to climb a tree after me.”
Nolan chuckles. Cade ignores him.
“They were hybrids,” he says.
The word hits a nerve in my brain immediately.
“Hybrids?”
“Yes.”
“As in genetically engineered hybrids?” I ask.
Cade pauses.
“That’s… one way to describe them.”
My mind races. Images from my past investigation flash through my thoughts—medical files, lab reports, whistleblower emails. Illegal genetic experiments. Biological weapon research. I lean forward despite the pain in my ribs.
“Those creatures looked wrong,” I say slowly. “Their bone structure wasn’t natural. Their movements weren’t either.”
Nolan glances at Cade.
“See? I told you she was smart.”
Cade doesn’t respond. I cross my arms.
“Alright,” I say. “Your turn. Hybrids of…? And…”
He cuts me off.
“My turn?”
“Yes.”
I point directly at him.
“Explain how you fought them like that.”
Cade goes very still. For a moment I think he’s going to dodge the question again. Then Nolan sighs dramatically.
“Oh for the love of—just show her.”
Cade shoots him a warning look. Nolan shrugs.
“She’s not stupid. You’re going to run out of excuses eventually.”
I glance between them.
“What exactly are we talking about here?”
Cade closes his eyes briefly, like he’s accepting a decision he didn’t want to make. When he opens them again, something in his expression has changed.
“Alright,” he says quietly.
He steps back into the center of the room.
“Just… don’t panic.”
That sentence is never comforting.
“What are you—”
His body shifts. I don’t even understand what I’m seeing at first. His shoulders broaden.
Bones crack softly under his skin. Muscles roll and reshape. Dark fur bursts across his arms. I stare. My brain refuses to process it.
Because standing in the middle of the cabin is no longer entirely human. Wolf eyes meet mine. The same eyes that I was looking at in Cade’s face a moment ago.
For several long seconds the only sound in the room is my own breathing.Then my extremely rational brain comes to one very clear conclusion.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Nolan bursts out laughing. Cade shifts back, the transformation reversing in seconds. He looks almost apologetic.
“Well,” he says carefully, “that went better than expected.”
I stare at him. Then at Nolan. Then back at Cade.
“You’re telling me,” I say slowly, “that you’re a werewolf.”
Nolan grins.
“We prefer the term wolf shifter.”
I rub my temples.
“This is insane.”
But the memory of last night flashes through my mind again. The speed. The strength. The way those creatures feared him. My reporter brain clicks into place piece by piece. I lower my hands.
“Okay,” I say.
Both men blink.
“You believe us?” Nolan asks.
I shrug slightly.
“I’ve spent the last three years investigating illegal genetic research that sounded just as crazy.”
Cade studies me carefully.
“What kind of research?”
I meet his gaze.
“Experiments involving human and animal DNA.”
The room goes quiet. A cold realization creeps down my spine. I lean forward slightly.
“Those hybrids in the forest,” I say slowly. “They weren’t random monsters.”
Cade’s expression hardens.
“No,” he says.
“They weren’t.”
And suddenly the danger surrounding me feels a lot bigger than a single attack in the woods.
The silence that follows feels heavier than anything that came before it.
I can hear the clock ticking somewhere in the cabin.
The faint creak of wood settling. The distant sound of wind moving through trees.
All of it feels too normal. Too small. Because my brain is trying to reorganize reality.
“Okay,” I say finally, pressing my fingers lightly against my ribs as I shift upright again. “Let’s just… walk through this slowly before I completely lose my grip on sanity.”
Nolan grins. “That’s usually how this part goes.”
I ignore him and keep my eyes on Cade.
“You’re telling me there are… people,” I gesture vaguely at him, “who can turn into wolves.”
“Yes.”
“And those things in the forest are… what? Failed versions of that?”
Cade’s jaw tightens.
“Not failed,” he says. “Wrong.”
That word lands differently.
“Wrong how?”
“They don’t belong,” he replies. “Whatever created them twisted something that shouldn’t be touched.”
My mind immediately pushes back against that. Because I’ve seen what humans are capable of touching. And twisting.
“You’re assuming this is something unnatural,” I say carefully. “But from what I saw, it looked engineered.”
Nolan’s expression shifts slightly, curiosity replacing humor.
“Engineered how?”
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, ignoring Cade’s immediate scowl.
“Don’t,” he says.
“Too late,” I reply, standing anyway.
The room tilts for half a second, but I steady myself against the edge of the bed and keep going.
“I worked on an investigation two years ago,” I say. “Private funding. Black-site labs. No oversight.”
Cade’s attention sharpens instantly.
“Where?”
“Multiple locations,” I say. “But the lead I was following centered around a facility in upstate New York. Officially, it didn’t exist.”
Nolan lets out a low whistle.
“Of course it didn’t.”
I start pacing slowly, my thoughts picking up speed now that they’ve found familiar ground.
“They were experimenting with cross-species DNA integration,” I continue. “The public-facing story was medical advancement—organ regeneration, genetic disease elimination, that kind of thing.”
Cade’s voice cuts in, low and dangerous.
“And the real story?”
I meet his eyes.
“They were trying to enhance human capability.”
Silence drops into the room again.
“Strength. Speed. Sensory perception,” I go on. “They believed combining human DNA with apex predators could create something… superior.”
Nolan exhales. “That never goes well.”
“No,” I agree. “It doesn’t.”
Cade’s gaze hasn’t left me.
“And you exposed them?”
I hesitate.
“Partially.”
His eyes narrow slightly. “Meaning?”
“I got close,” I admit. “Closer than I should have. I had sources inside the project—scientists who realized what they were involved in and wanted out.”
“And then?” Nolan asks.
I shake my head.
“The story never ran.”
“Why not?” Cade asks.
“Because the evidence disappeared.”
The words taste bitter.
“Servers wiped. Documents gone. Sources went silent or vanished completely. Thankfully, that didn’t happen before I made my own copies and saved them in a secure location.”
Nolan mutters, “That’s comforting.”
I fold my arms, trying to ignore the chill creeping up my spine.
“I was pulled off the story,” I say. “My editor said it was too risky without hard proof.”
Cade’s voice drops.
“Or someone made sure it looked like you didn’t have proof.”
I don’t respond.
Because that thought has lived in the back of my mind for a long time.
“And now,” I say slowly, “I get chased through the woods by creatures that look exactly like what that research was trying to create.”
The implication settles heavily between us. Nolan breaks the silence first.
“So either that project didn’t shut down…” he says, “or someone picked up where they left off.”
“Or,” Cade adds quietly, “it never stopped at all.”
My stomach drops.
“That’s not even the worst part,” I say.
Both of them look at me. I swallow.
“The funding behind that research? It wasn’t just private investors.”
Cade’s expression darkens. “Who?”
“I never got a full list,” I admit. “But there were connections to defense contracts. Government-adjacent organizations.”
Nolan exhales. “So… people with a lot of resources and zero accountability.”
“Exactly.”
The room feels smaller suddenly. More dangerous. Because this isn’t just about monsters in the woods. This is infrastructure. Power. Control. Cade steps closer to me, his presence solid and grounding.
“And you think they targeted you because of that investigation.”
It’s not a question. I nod slowly.
“It makes sense,” I say. “If those hybrids are connected to that research, and someone knows I was digging into it…”
“They’d want you silenced,” Nolan finishes.
My pulse quickens.
“Or contained,” I add.
Cade’s expression hardens instantly.
“That’s not happening.”
Something in his voice makes my chest tighten. Not fear. Something else. Something steadier. I push it aside and focus.
“There’s more,” I say.
Cade’s eyes flicker. “What?”
I hesitate again, then reach for my bag—someone must have brought it in while I was unconscious. It’s sitting on a chair near the wall. I grab it and dig through until my fingers close around my phone. Dead. Of course it is.
“Do you have a charger?” I ask.
Nolan tosses one from the counter. “Welcome to the land of bad cell service and worse life choices.”
I plug the phone in and wait. It takes a moment, but the screen finally flickers to life. Notifications flood in. Missed calls. Emails. Messages. Most of them are noise. But one catches my eye immediately.
Unknown sender. No subject line. Sent two days ago. My stomach drops.
“Cade,” I say quietly.
He steps closer. “What is it?”
I open the message. There’s no text. Just a single attachment. A file. I tap it. It loads slowly, the weak signal struggling to pull the data through. Then the screen fills with an image.
A document. A lab report. My breath catches. Because I recognize the formatting instantly.
The same structure. The same coding system. The same project headers. It’s from the investigation.
But this time— It’s recent. Very recent.
Nolan leans over my shoulder. “What am I looking at?”
I scroll. My hands start to shake.
“This isn’t old data,” I whisper. “This is active.”
Cade’s voice is tight. “What does it say?”
I stop scrolling. Because there it is. A designation line. Subject classification. I read it out loud before I can stop myself.
“Target profile confirmed.”
The room goes completely still. My heart pounds in my ears. Below it, more text. Coordinates. Movement patterns. Behavioral notes. And then— A name. My name.
Every muscle in Cade’s body goes rigid beside me.
Nolan swears under his breath.
I stare at the screen, the reality of it sinking in piece by piece.
“This wasn’t random,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
Cade doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have to. Because we both already know. I wasn’t just attacked. I was hunted.