The trees thickened the deeper they drove into the holler. What little road there had been gave up half a mile back, leaving only ruts, overgrown brush, and the sound of the engine whining as Cade's truck crawled forward.
Willa sat in the passenger seat, eyes scanning the dark woods beyond the window. Her fingers tapped restlessly against the hilt of the blade strapped to her thigh.
They weren't talking much.
Not since the howl.
Not since the scent.
"Smell that?" Cade asked, voice low.
Willa nodded. "Magic. Rotten. Old."
"Blood, too," Roman added from the backseat. "Not human."
Cade's jaw tightened. "We're close."
The truck came to a stop near a crumbling fence half-swallowed by vines. Beyond it, the ruins of what looked like an old church lay broken in the trees—stone foundation cracked, wooden beams collapsed in on themselves, and a heavy silence thick in the air.
Willa climbed out, boots sinking into the mossy ground. She crouched near the front step, fingers brushing a smear of blood on the stones.
Still tacky.
She stood slowly. "She came through here."
Grace moved beside her, holding out a small charm on a leather cord. It pulsed faintly. "This started glowing the second we crossed the fence."
"Wards," Roman said, circling the ruin's edge. "And not the kind that keep things out."
"They keep things in," Cade muttered.
They spread out, scanning the area. Willa pushed deeper into the shadowed interior of what had once been the nave. Scattered bones littered the dirt floor—animal, she hoped—but the scorch marks near the altar said otherwise.
Then she saw it.
A mark, carved into the stone behind the collapsed pulpit. A crude sigil.
Not Council.
Older.
Wrong.
"What is that?" she asked, calling Cade over.
He studied it, eyes narrowing. "Not one of ours. This is something... primal."
Roman stepped into the doorway, face grim. "Sadie didn't just walk into a trap. She walked into a ritual site."
"And whoever set it?" Grace added. "They're still nearby."
Willa turned, hand already on her blade.
Then she froze.
From the shadows at the edge of the clearing, something stepped out.
Not a man.
Not a wolf.
Something in between.
Its eyes glowed black—not red. Its body was wrapped in chains that moved, like they were alive. And its mouth—
Willa's stomach turned.
There were too many teeth.
"Fall back," Cade said sharply, stepping in front of her.
The creature moved fast.
Too fast.
Roman threw a sigil-charged bolt of magic—it hit the thing square in the chest and fizzled.
No effect.
"Back to the truck!" Cade barked.
Willa hesitated, unwilling to turn her back.
Then the creature spoke.
"You trespass," it hissed. "You wake the Deep Pack. You call what should have stayed buried."
It lunged.
They scattered.
Cade tackled Willa to the ground as a claw grazed her side, tearing fabric and flesh. She cried out, pain flaring white-hot.
Roman shouted something in an old tongue. Grace threw a warding stone that exploded in light.
The creature screamed—and vanished.
Just like that.
Gone.
The clearing fell still.
Willa lay on the ground, gasping. Cade knelt beside her, cradling her shoulders, checking the wound.
"Not deep," he murmured. "You'll live."
"I've had worse," she said, grimacing. "Hell of a welcoming committee."
Roman looked at the sigil on the wall again. "That wasn't just a monster."
"No," Cade said darkly. "That was a scout."
Willa sat up, wincing. "Then we need to move. Now. Before more come."
But Cade wasn't moving.
He was staring into the woods, listening.
"What?" Willa asked.
He turned to her, eyes wolf-bright. "I hear her."
Her breath caught. "Sadie?"
He nodded. "She's close."
And she's not alone.
Willa pressed her hand to her side as they moved through the trees, Cade a step ahead of her, tracking by scent alone. Every so often, he'd pause, sniff the air, tilt his head like a predator zeroing in on prey.
"She's injured," he said finally, voice tight. "I can smell blood. Not a lot… but it's hers."
Willa's chest tightened. "So she ran."
"Or was dragged," Roman muttered behind them.
Grace stayed silent, her charm still glowing faintly. She held it in front of her like a compass.
The forest changed as they walked. Thicker. Darker. The air grew colder, the silence heavier.
And then the ground began to shift beneath their feet.
Soft.
Sinking.
Willa crouched, running her fingers through the soil.
Ash.
The earth here had burned long ago.
She looked up—and froze.
Before them stood a massive tree, gnarled and blackened, dead but not fallen. The bark was scorched, cracked in places as though it had been struck by lightning—repeatedly. Chains hung from its limbs, rusted and clinking softly in the windless air.
And at the base of the tree—
"Sadie," Cade breathed.
She was slumped against the roots, arms limp at her sides, a dark gash down one thigh. Still breathing. Barely.
Willa sprinted first, kneeling beside her friend. "Sadie—hey. Hey, wake up."
Sadie's lashes fluttered. Her eyes were glassy with pain. "Took... too long," she whispered.
Cade crouched beside them. "What did this to you?"
Sadie's hand twitched. She pointed—barely—toward the base of the tree.
That's when they saw it.
A symbol carved into the trunk. Fresh.
It pulsed once.
Then the ground cracked.
"Move!" Roman shouted, throwing up a ward as something began clawing its way out from beneath the roots.
A hand. Not human.
Black skin. Elongated fingers. Bone-white claws.
Willa grabbed Sadie and pulled her back as Cade stood, shifting mid-step—fur rippling over his body, a growl building in his chest that sounded like thunder.
The thing in the ground rose slowly, impossibly tall, its body cloaked in rags and shadows. Its face was a mask of bone fused to flesh.
Grace threw her charm—it exploded in white light. The creature flinched, just enough for Cade to launch himself forward, claws slashing.
Roman chanted a sigil into the dirt.
The moment Cade's claws touched the creature, both of them vanished in a pulse of black light.
"Cade!" Willa shouted.
Nothing.
The forest went dead silent again.
Willa's breath hitched. Her heart pounded.
"Where is he?" she growled.
Roman looked pale. "Wherever that thing came from… he's there now."
Willa stood, fists clenched.
"No. Hell no. I just got him."
She turned to the tree.
And her eyes burned.
"I'm getting him back."
Willa paced in a tight circle at the edge of the scorched clearing, fists clenched, jaw locked. The blackened tree stood still now—silent and menacing, its bark humming faintly with the pulse of dark magic.
Roman was already carving a containment sigil into the earth while Grace helped stabilize Sadie. The woman looked like hell—her face pale, eyes unfocused, the wound on her thigh sluggishly bleeding despite Grace's pressure.
"I should've gone in," Willa muttered. "It should've been me."
"No," Roman said sharply, glancing up. "You'd both be gone."
Willa stopped moving, hands twitching. "That thing—whatever it was—it didn't just want to kill us. It wanted him."
"And now it has him," Roman said. "Which means we need to stop thinking like hotheads and start thinking like strategists."
"I'm not leaving him," she snapped.
"No one said you were," Grace offered gently. "But if we rush in without knowing what we're dealing with, we'll just hand them more bodies."
Willa took a shaky breath, then knelt beside the tree. The mark carved into its bark was still warm. Deeply etched. Not just magic—blood magic. Her fingers hovered over it, sensing the faintest flicker of energy. Not gone. Not closed.
"I can feel him," she whispered. "It's like… like the door didn't fully seal."
Roman narrowed his eyes. "If it's still open—"
"Then I can go through," she said, standing quickly. "Find him. Bring him back."
Sadie stirred from where she lay slumped against Grace. "Bad… idea…" she croaked.
Willa dropped beside her instantly. "What happened? What was it?"
Sadie's eyes fluttered. "They call themselves the Deep Pack. Old blood. Bound to the land, to death. Cade—he's… he's part of it, even if he doesn't know it."
Roman's eyes went cold. "The Deep Pack's a myth."
Sadie gave a breathless, painful laugh. "Yeah? Tell that to the thing that nearly ripped me in two."
Willa looked to the tree again, then at the others. "I'm going. You can help me or not."
Grace stepped forward without hesitation. "We help."
Roman didn't argue—just muttered under his breath and reached into his coat for a vial of powdered silver and salt.
"Blood magic doorways aren't meant to go both ways," he said. "So when you cross… it's going to hurt."
"Good," Willa said, stepping to the base of the tree and placing her hand flat against the mark. "Pain's the only thing that makes me feel like myself lately."
She didn't wait.
The sigil flared to life beneath her palm—hot, blinding, then cold as a grave.
And then the ground dropped from beneath her feet.
She was falling.
Through smoke.
Through ice.
Through memory.
Then—
Impact.
She hit the dirt hard, rolling and coughing on air thick with ash and sulfur. The sky above was red. Not sunset—bleeding. The forest around her was warped, gnarled into grotesque shapes.
This wasn't Black Hollow.
This was something beneath it.
Something buried.
"Cade!" she shouted, her voice echoing in the broken landscape.
Nothing.
She pulled her dagger, eyes scanning the shadows. Something moved—just out of sight. Watching. Circling.
And then—faintly—she heard it.
A growl.
Ragged. Strained.
Familiar.
"Cade?" she said again, quieter.
And then she saw him.
Chained to a twisted tree, arms pulled wide, body covered in cuts that oozed silver.
His head lifted.
His eyes locked on hers.
"Willa…" he rasped.
She didn't hesitate.
She ran toward him—toward the trap—toward whatever hell waited in the red sky.
Because she wasn't leaving without him.
Not again.