Chapter 1
Chapter 1
August 18th, 2012 — 13 Years Ago
Night before Elliana's 5th Birthday
Elliots POV
Peeking into his daughter’s bedroom, Elliot lingers in the doorway for a moment longer than usual. The soft glow of her night-light paints her small face in warm amber, her teddy bear tucked safely in her arms, one tiny foot sticking out from under her rainbow blanket. She sleeps peacefully, unaware of the storm brewing outside their home. Elliot’s chest tightens—but he smiles anyway, forcing himself to look calm even if inside he feels anything but.
His eyes drift to the window—locked, blinds drawn, reinforced like every night for the past six months. He checks the latch again. Still secure. Only then does he exhale, a shaky breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
He eases the door shut with careful fingers, making sure it doesn’t creak, and walks quietly down the hallway. Every step down the wooden floors echoes louder in his head than it should. The house is too quiet. Too still. Like the air before a storm hits.
In his bedroom, Kendra lies asleep beneath the covers, her auburn hair spread like a halo across the pillow. The sight of his wife sleeping soundly in their bed calms him. He stares at the ceiling, but his mind is wide awake, replaying every threat, every anonymous letter warning him that they were coming. Every unfamiliar car that slowed outside their home. The feeling of being watched. Hunted.
He flinches slightly when a warm hand rests on his chest. Turning his head, he meets Kendra’s heavy-lidded gaze, tired but trusting.
“We’re gonna be okay,” she murmurs, voice thick with sleep and something like faith. “Are all the doors and windows locked?”
His throat tightens. “Y-” He starts, then freezes as a spike of dread guts him. Did he check the front door?
“No. I’m not sure. I’ll be right back.”
He’s out of bed and sprinting through the hallway before she can answer—even the floorboards seem to scream beneath his feet. The house feels suddenly colder. He reaches the entryway and reaches for the lock-
The front door explodes inwards.
Wood splinters. The blast of force sends Elliot flying backward, crashing into the kitchen tile. The world tilts, sound ringing in his ears. Shadows rush through the open doorway—large figures, masked, armed. A deep, unnatural growl shakes the floorboards. Wolves. Not normal wolves- too big. Too fast. Their eyes glow. Werewolves.
Gunfire erupts like thunder in his skull. Pain blooms hot and sharp as a bullet tears into his abdomen. He screams, clutching his stomach, blood seeping fast between his fingers.
“KENDRA! TAKE ELLIANA AND RUN!” His voice cracks, desperate, raw. Footsteps and a panicked gasp upstairs-then the slam of the back door. Relief washes over him through the agony. They got out. Thank god, they got out.
Heavy boots stop in front of him. A shadow kneels.
“Well, well, well… look at what we have here.”
A woman’s voice- cold, amused, venom wrapped in a soft voice.
Elliot forces his blurry gaze upward. Through the haze of pain, he recognizes her. Amara. Someone he once trusted like family. Her red lips curl into a cruel smile as she presses the barrel of a gun to his forehead. The metallic scent of gun oil mingles with the iron tang of his blood on the kitchen floor.
“The great Elliot Hayes,” she taunts, tilting her head, “brought down to where he belongs.”
“You… won’t get away with this,” he grits out, hand trembling as he keeps pressure on his wound. His blood warms the tiles beneath him. He already knows he’s dying. But Kendra and Emerson are gone. Safe. That’s all that matters.
From somewhere outside, he hears the distant sound of footsteps running, shouting, and cursing. His last laugh is weak, bitter.
“If you’re gonna kill me,” he breathes, eyes full of defiance even as they glaze, “do it.”
Amara’s smile widens. “Don’t mind if I do.”
One last bang. The world goes silent.
