Chapter 2

CHAPTER ONE

Zyana's pov

I stood by the window and stared out at the dark forest in my sight of view. I hummed to the breeze that made the leaves on the trees sway.

The moon hung high, full and bright and beautiful. But the quiet outside was unsettling—like the world was holding its breath. Yet, something didn’t feel right.

Everything always felt right at night, I enjoyed the nightime, but tonight of all nights, I was the least comfortable.

"Zyana."

I turned my attention to my father standing by the door of the kitchen, looking at me weirdly as if I was talking to myself. He had already gathered his gear. His bag was packed full as usual with snacks and water, the knives and tools he was carrying along with him were carefully and neatly arranged on the counter.

I knew what this meant—he was preparing for a hunt. But this didn't look like it was just any hunt. Not tonight.

I looked back at the window, my heart pounding. “I need to go with you, Dad. Tonight doesn't feel right and I fear.”

His eyes narrowed at me, his jaw tightening. “You’re not going with me Zyana.”

“I can help you dad. Finally I know I am ready to accompany you to your hunt.”

“I’ve trained really hard for this dad, I’ve learned everything you’ve taught me and I have practiced multiple times also. I know how to fight. I can—”

“No, Zyana. You’re not ready, I know when you will be ready, but now, you are not ready. You are still very young and oblivious to the world outside.” he interrupted.

I felt a surge of frustration wash over me, and I clenched my fists at my sides.

“I’m ready dad, I know I am! I’ve been training for years. You taught me everything. You—” I stopped, my words faltering as I searched for the right words to say.

“You said I could handle it, that I will be like you. Now I'm twenty two, dad, twenty two. I'm no longer a kid anymore, you can't protect me forever.”

His gaze hardened. He turned away from me and walked toward the kitchen, not meeting my eyes. “This is a different situation,child. It’s not safe.”

I stepped closer to him, my voice rising.

“What’s not safe? You make it sound as if I’m some fragile little girl who can’t take care of herself or do the right things. I’m not a kid anymore Dad. I can fight.”

I pointed toward the wall, where my own knife—the one he’d given me years ago—hung ready. “I’m ready.”

He shook his head in objection, showing that he was not going to ever listen to what I was going to say. He didn't believe I could fight enough.

“This isn’t like the things we’ve dealt with before Zyana, this is so much different.”

He patted me on my head and on my shoulders.

“You need to stay here, and you need to be safe and sound. That’s an order I'm giving, not a request. No going out.”

I couldn't take it anyone, it was like my dad to say I was weak. No matter how hard I trained, I was always weak in his eyes. I'll never be good enough

“Safe? What is it you’re not telling me, Dad? You are definitely hiding something from me. Why can’t I follow you tonight? What are you hunting tonight?” I pressed, stepping closer.

He finally turned to face me, his eyes darkened with something I couldn’t quite place—something I’d never seen before.

“This is a mission for me alone, Zyana. And that’s the end of it. No more questions, just obey like the little girl you've always been.”

I opened my mouth to argue again, but my gaze fell on something off. I squinted my eyes and sure enough, they were claw marks. Deep, jagged gashes across the door, running from top to bottom. My breath caught in my throat. I stepped closer to the door, tracing my fingers along the marks.

I hadn't noticed the claw marks but from the look of it, it was fresh and new, when did this happen?.

“Did you see that?” I asked, my voice louder than before. My heart thudded harder in my chest. Was I in the house when this happened? Is my father right about my unreadiness?

Jack glanced at the door, his expression flickering briefly, before he turned away, dismissing it with a wave of his hand.

“It’s nothing,” he said, his tone flat. “Probably just some animal. We live close to the forest—it happens everytime and you know this. Some animal trying to search for food.”

I frowned, suspicion curling in my gut.

"That’s no animal, Dad. That claw mark is too deep. That’s—"

"Zyana, enough. I said it’s nothing, so it's nothing." he cut me off.

“Now go to your room and do not come out of your room until I say our safe word. I need to leave now, Shalom.”

His words felt like a slap on my cheek. There was no room for argument. No room for questions. Just... orders. And I hated it.

I stood there for a long moment, my fists clenched really tight and my mouth shut, trying to make sense of it all. But it was pointless he was already gone.

I stormed out of the living room in anger and went back into my bedroom, slamming my door on the way. I couldn't believe he could say that to me.

I lay in bed for what felt like an eternity of misery. Sleep wouldn’t come. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d seen—the claw marks—and the way my father had acted which was to me, highly suspicious as hell.

There was something wrong. I knew it. I could feel it in my guts. My instincts were very sharp and not for once had my instincts given me a wrong feeling.

Suddenly, my instincts were confirmed.

I heard a loud crash outside, followed by the unmistakable sound of loud grunts and snarling.

My body acted before I could change my mind on not going. Something was wrong outside.

I was already on my feet, dashing to the living room, grabbing my knife from the wall and strapping it to my belt.

My instincts kicked in, and before I could think better of it, I was rushing out the door.

"Zyana!" my father’s voice rang out, but his voice sounded like he was in severe pains.

I barely registered my name, the urgency in his tone only spurring me on. I stepped outside, and the scene before me was something I would never forget even if I had a memory loss.

My father was surrounded—by wolves.

But something was wrong. Their bodies were too large, their eyes too bright, too… weird.

They were circling him, baring their teeth and snarling at him. My father was fighting with everything he had, but the more he fought, the more they multiplied in number.

“Dad!” I screamed, but he wasn't going to hear me, not in the midst of this battle of life.

I didn’t think. I couldn’t think. I just ran toward him. My heart pounded in my chest as I charged into the fray.

I swung my knife, taking down one of the creatures that had lunged at my father.

Another came at me from the side, but I ducked and drove my knife into its throat. It fell, howling, before it crumpled to the ground.

But there were too many. Far too many.

I fought like a wild animal. I tried to keep up with their vicious attacks, but it was hopeless, they kept on increading in number the more I killed. My father was wounded badly and they were increasing rapidly in number

I tried to lift my father up but he fell to the ground, clutching his side, blood gushing out from his wounds.

“Zyana,” he gasped. “Run.”

I didn’t understand but I had never seen my strong and vicious dad so afraid and it frightened me.

"No, Dad! I can't leave you here. I will carry you and we will escape. You can’t—"

"No Zyana. You have to go now. Leave me here but you have to go” he choked out, his breath ragged.

“And remember, trust no one.”

I wasn't really listening to what he was telling me. I was too focused on trying to cover his wounds. The blood was too much.

But then I heard it—the growl. At that point it didn't feel like a wolf’s growl. It was something else.

I looked behind me and then I saw them, more of them, coming out from the woods, their mouths dripping with saliva as they stared hungrily at me, their final meal.

I couldn’t do this. I couldn't leave my father here to die

My father gripped my arm, pleading with his eyes for me to go. He was already so pale from lack of blood.

If that was my father's dying wish for me to run, I will run.

I turned and sprinted into the woods with the creatures on my tail.

They howled and snarled. To them, they were enjoying seeing their dinner give them a good chase.

“Run,” my father’s words echoed in my head. “Trust no one.”

And I ran.