The moon hung low over Blackwood Pines like a silent witness, veiled in wisps of smoke-gray clouds. The wind whispered through the trees, rustling the leaves in warning, as if the forest itself knew what was about to unfold.
Aurora Quinn tightened her wool shawl around her shoulders and crouched near the damp earth, fingers grazing a patch of midnight blue moss. "Moonshade," she whispered, slipping the herb into a small leather pouch. "Extremely rare. And extremely useful."
She looked over her shoulder, instinctively. Nothing. Just the darkness, humming with night insects and the distant hoot of an owl. Still, something in her gut tightened — a buzz in her blood, a faint vibration in the air. Her magic always stirred when danger was near.
She shook it off. "No drama tonight," she muttered. "In and out."
That's when she heard it.
A growl. Low. Guttural. Too close.
She froze.
Then came the snap of a branch, followed by the unmistakable sound of a gunshot—a single, thunderous crack that echoed through the woods like a scream.
Aurora's breath caught in her throat.
She didn't move at first, not even a blink. Then, without fully deciding to, her feet carried her toward the sound. Her heart thudded as she weaved through the trees, eyes darting between shadows.
It wasn't bravery. It was something else. Something magnetic.
She rounded a massive oak tree and stopped cold.
A man lay sprawled on the forest floor, his shirt torn and soaked with blood. His skin gleamed under the moonlight—scars, old and new, decorating his chest like war medals. His body was enormous, muscular, animalistic. But it wasn't his size that made her gasp.
It was the claw marks across his side... and the faint shimmer of fur retracting into his skin.
Aurora's hand flew to her mouth. "Sh*t," she whispered. "Not human."
His lips moved. Barely. "Run…" he groaned. "They're… close…"
Before she could speak, there was a rustling from deep in the woods.
Aurora's pulse spiked. Her hand hovered over the pouch at her side — filled with herbs, talismans, and forbidden hope.
She should leave. She should run like he said.But instead, she whispered, "Lux et vita."
A faint golden light lit her palm. She placed it on his bleeding side, and the light snaked into his body. His wounds sizzled and began to close, flesh knitting itself as if time reversed.
He jerked, grabbing her wrist with surprising force. His eyes snapped open—bright gold, like a predator's.
She gasped.
"You…" His voice was ragged, cracked. "Witch."
Aurora yanked her hand back, heart in her throat. "You're awake?"
"I felt you… even before you touched me." He sat up slightly, eyes scanning her face like a hunter memorizing prey. "Why did you help me?"
She stood up quickly. "I— I don't even know you."
"You used power. Real power." He reached out again, slower this time. "You healed me. That's not a gift. That's a threat."
"I'm not your enemy," she said, stepping back. "And I won't be anyone's property, Alpha."
His golden eyes sharpened.
Aurora's breath hitched. She hadn't meant to call him that out loud.
He rose, staggering slightly, but still too strong for someone just moments from death. His eyes never left hers. "You're not from this town, are you?"
"No," she said. "And if you know what's good for you, you'll forget you ever saw me."
She turned and walked briskly back into the trees, heart pounding. But just as she reached the edge of the clearing—
A whisper brushed her ear.
Right behind her.
But when she turned around—he was gone.
Gone.
Scene Shift – Blackwood Tower (Damien's Penthouse)
A flash of lightning revealed Damien Blackwood's towering frame standing shirtless before a shattered mirror.
He pressed his palm to his side. The wound was gone.
"She saved me," he murmured, golden eyes glowing. "A witch… in Blackwood Pines?"
His reflection twisted, for a split second, into something wolf-like. Savage. Hungry.
Then it was gone.
"Find her," he whispered to no one.
But the shadows in the room stirred like they heard him.