IRIS POV
The forest is trying to keep her out.
Iris Vale grips the steering wheel tighter as her car bounces over a pothole on the gravel road. Pine trees loom on both sides, their branches so thick that sunlight barely breaks through. She's been driving for forty minutes since the gate, and the lodge still hasn't appeared. Just endless road and endless forest and the feeling that something in this place doesn't want her here.
She tells herself that's ridiculous. Forests don't have feelings. But three years of searching for answers has taught her that some places hide secrets better than others.
The car lurches around a bend and finally the lodge appears. Massive wooden structure with stone chimneys and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a lake. Beautiful in that way that makes you forget why you came. Iris kills the engine and sits for a moment, her hands still shaking from the drive.
Three years. It's been three years since her brother disappeared.
Marcus was twenty-three when he decided to go hiking near Silvercrest territory. He loved nature. Loved getting lost in it. He texted her that morning saying he'd found an amazing trail and would be back by dinner. He never came back.
The police search lasted less than forty-eight hours. Less than two days. Iris had asked the detective why they were calling it off so fast. Why weren't they organizing search parties. Why weren't they bringing in dogs. The detective's face had gone strange, like someone had flipped a switch. He told her the case was closed. Marcus probably wandered off into dangerous territory and made a mistake. Happens all the time with hikers.
That's when Iris knew something was wrong. People don't close missing person cases that fast. Not unless someone with power tells them to.
She pops the trunk and pulls out her camera case. The equipment is real. Top of the line. She'd spent her savings on it because if she was going to pretend to be a documentary filmmaker, she needed to look the part. Wildlife conservation. Predator prey ecosystems. Habitat management. She'd researched everything for three months. Built a website. Created fake credentials. Set up fake interviews with production companies that don't exist.
All to get access to Silvercrest territory. All to find out what happened to her brother.
The lodge owner is waiting inside. An older woman with silver hair pulled back tight. She barely glances at Iris's papers. Just hands over a key and points down a hallway. Room 12. Dinner is at six. Breakfast is at seven. Don't wander into the forest alone. Those last words come out flat, like a recording she's played a thousand times.
Iris finds her room and locks the door. Then she pulls out her laptop and opens the files she's been collecting for months.
Missing person report filed March 15th. Closed March 17th. Two days. The detective's name is in there. Detective Reeves. She'd tried calling him a dozen times. He always says the same thing. Case is closed. Move on with your life. But there's something in his voice that sounds like fear.
News articles from local papers are vague. Hiker missing in Silvercrest territory. No foul play suspected. Subject likely made poor hiking decisions. She pulls up the search history her brother had open on his laptop before he disappeared. He'd been researching the Silvercrest Pack. Not the wildlife. The pack itself. Like he'd found something he shouldn't have.
The file includes a grainy photo of her brother. He's smiling in it, holding up a camera just like hers. Marcus always wanted to capture things. To show people what they were missing. That's probably what got him killed.
Iris pushes the thought down. She can't afford guilt right now. She can't afford anything except answers.
She opens the secure folder buried in her documents. The one with screenshots of forum posts. The one with grainy photos taken by hikers who'd reported strange activity near the forest. The one with testimonies from people who claimed they'd seen things in these woods that didn't make sense. Things that moved on two legs and four. Things with eyes that reflected light like animals.
Most people would call them crazy. Iris calls them witnesses.
She's about to open another file when her phone buzzes. Text message from an unknown number. No caller ID. No name. Just ten words that make her blood go cold.
You're not welcome here. Leave now while you still can.
Iris stares at the message. Her hands start shaking. How did someone get her number. She's been so careful. New phone. New email. Everything private. Everything hidden.
She types back. Who is this.
Three dots appear. Then they disappear. Then they appear again. Someone is typing. Deleting. Typing. Finally the response comes through.
Someone who knows what you're looking for. Someone who knows you won't find it. Someone who knows what happens to people who ask too many questions in Silvercrest territory.
Iris's chest tightens. She could leave right now. Pack up her things. Get in the car. Drive back to the city and pretend this never happened. Pretend her brother never existed. Pretend three years of grief and searching meant nothing.
She doesn't move.
Instead she types. I'm looking for my brother. His name was Marcus Vale. He disappeared three years ago. If you know something, tell me.
The response is almost immediate. He didn't disappear. He died. And if you keep searching, you'll end up the same way.
Iris's phone slips from her hands. It hits the bed and bounces. She picks it up again with fingers that don't feel like hers.
Tell me who you are.
The typing dots appear and disappear three times. Finally the message comes through.
Someone on the inside. Someone who's seen what the pack does to people who find out the truth. Someone who's trying to save your life by telling you to run.
Iris stands up and walks to the window. Outside the forest is turning dark as the sun drops lower. She can see the trees swaying even though there's no wind. She can hear something that might be wolves howling in the distance. Or might be something else.
She types with trembling fingers. I'm not leaving.
The response is immediate and brutal.
Then you're already dead. The only question is whether they'll kill you slowly or all at once.
The line goes dead. No more typing indicator. No more messages. Iris sits in the dark room with her phone clutched to her chest and realizes she's made a choice that can't be unmade. She's walked into a forest that doesn't want her here. She's opened a door that only closes one way.
And somewhere in these woods, someone who knows the truth about her brother is watching to see if she's brave enough to find it.
Or stupid enough to die trying.