Chapter Eight : Hidden truths

The next morning, I woke to the smell of wood smoke and something savory cooking downstairs. For a brief moment, I felt normal, like I was waking up in some remote bed-and-breakfast on a vacation I had never planned. But the tension that lay just beneath the surface of everything here reminded me that I wasn’t safe—not yet.

I dressed quickly, wanting to shake off the unease that had settled in my chest. The house was quiet, but I could hear faint voices outside the window—people moving about their day in the village below. They seemed so ordinary, so peaceful, yet I couldn’t help but feel like there was something more to this place. Something hidden.

Heading downstairs, I found Ronan in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove. He looked up when I entered, his eyes softening slightly.

“Morning,” he said, nodding toward the pot. “Breakfast should be ready in a minute.”

I sat down at the small wooden table, my hands wrapping around a mug of coffee he’d already poured for me. The warmth of the cup seeped into my palms, but it didn’t chase away the cold feeling that clung to my insides.

“Did you sleep well?” Ronan asked as he placed a plate of food in front of me—eggs, toast, and some kind of meat I didn’t recognize.

“Yeah,” I lied, picking at the food. “Thanks.”

He watched me for a moment, like he could sense the unease I was trying to hide. “You don’t have to worry,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “You’re safe here.”

There it was again—*safe*. That word he kept repeating as if saying it enough times would make it true. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t just being protected. I was being hidden.

Ronan sat across from me, eating in silence for a while. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“What is this place?” I asked, my voice quiet but steady. “I mean, I know you said it’s safe, but...there’s something you’re not telling me.”

He paused, setting down his fork. His gaze met mine, and for a moment, I thought he was going to brush me off like before. But then he sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“This village… It’s not like other places,” he said carefully, as though choosing each word with precision. “The people here, they live apart from the world for a reason.”

“What reason?” I pressed.

Ronan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. “It’s hard to explain. There are things you don’t know yet, Lena. Things I’m not sure you’re ready to hear.”

I felt a flash of frustration. “Why does everyone keep treating me like I can’t handle the truth? You’ve dragged me from one place to another, and I still don’t know what’s going on!”

He held up a hand to stop me, his expression softening. “I’m not trying to keep you in the dark. I just want to make sure you’re ready before you learn more. Once you do, there’s no going back.”

A heavy silence filled the space between us. I could see the sincerity in his eyes, the quiet intensity that always seemed to linger just beneath his calm exterior. And for a moment, I believed him. Maybe there really was something I wasn’t ready to face. But that didn’t make the waiting any easier.

Before I could respond, there was a knock at the door. Ronan’s expression shifted instantly, his body tensing as he stood up to answer it.

A tall man stepped inside, his presence commanding even in the simple clothing he wore. He had dark hair and sharp features, and though he didn’t look much older than Ronan, there was something ageless about him—like he had seen more than anyone could imagine.

“Ronan,” the man said with a nod, his voice deep and authoritative. “We need to talk.”

Ronan gave a brief glance in my direction before stepping outside with the stranger, leaving the door slightly ajar. I couldn’t hear much of what they were saying, but the few words that drifted in caught my attention: “the pack,” “time is running out,” and “protect her at all costs.”

*The pack?* My mind raced, trying to piece together what little I knew. This village, Ronan’s secrecy, and now this mysterious man—everything seemed to revolve around something bigger, something I wasn’t a part of.

When Ronan came back inside, his expression was closed off, but his eyes betrayed the weight of whatever had just been said.

“I have to take care of something,” he said, his tone careful but hurried. “I’ll be back soon. Stay here. Don’t leave the house.”

“Wait,” I said, standing up as he headed for the door. “What’s going on? Who was that?”

Ronan hesitated, his hand resting on the doorknob. “Someone I trust,” he said after a moment. “He’s helping me make sure you stay safe.”

“From what?” I asked, the frustration bubbling up again. “Ronan, I deserve to know what’s happening.”

He looked at me, his expression softening for just a second. “I promise I’ll explain everything soon. Just… trust me.”

With that, he was gone, leaving me alone in the quiet house.

I stood there for a while, the weight of everything pressing down on me. Something was coming—something bigger than I had realized. And whether Ronan wanted to admit it or not, I was a part of it now.

Ronan had returned later that night and had not said a word about what he had gone out to do or what was happening and I couldn’t help but feel like I was living in a story where the pages had already been written. And I was just waiting for the next chapter to unfold.

It had been days now, since I arrived here and the village was deceptively peaceful. I had wandered through its winding streets, trying to make sense of where I now found myself. Every corner I turned revealed something new—children playing, elders sharing quiet stories, and an undercurrent of something else. It was a feeling that clung to the air, a tension hidden beneath the surface.

Ronan had been distant since our arrival. He busied himself with duties around the village, leaving me to explore on my own. But the more I observed, the more the picture of this seemingly idyllic place felt incomplete. There was an order to things here, an unspoken hierarchy. Villagers would bow their heads or nod slightly when Ronan passed, and though they treated me kindly, I couldn’t help but feel like I was being watched—assessed. I didn’t belong here, not fully. But there was more to it than that.

At night, my dreams had shifted. What were once vague nightmares now transformed into fragmented images: wolves running through the trees, their eyes glowing in the dark; shadowed figures standing in a circle, whispering in a language I couldn’t understand; and a pair of piercing eyes, watching me from a distance.

Something was wrong, but I couldn’t yet grasp what it was.

One afternoon, as I strolled near the village center, I overheard a conversation between two men. They were standing just outside the general store, speaking in low, urgent tones. I slowed my pace and ducked behind the wooden post of a nearby building, straining to hear.

“He’s coming,” one of the men said. His voice was thick with apprehension. “We can’t afford to be unprepared this time.”

“The pack is stronger now,” the other replied, though he didn’t sound convinced. “But Caleb Sterling isn’t like the others. He’ll use whatever he can to break us.”

The name, Caleb Sterling, sent a shiver down my spine. I had no idea who he was, but the dread in their voices made it clear that whoever he was, he was dangerous.

The men continued, but their voices became muffled as a group of women passed by, their baskets heavy with goods from the market. By the time they were out of earshot, the men had moved on, their conversation cut short.

I stepped back into the open, my heart racing. Who was Caleb Sterling? And why did his name cause such fear among the villagers? I glanced around, hoping to catch sight of Ronan, but he was nowhere to be found. He had been disappearing for hours at a time, returning late in the evening with barely a word. I didn’t know if I could confront him directly, but I needed answers.

That night, as I sat by the fire in Ronan’s home, I found myself thinking back to all the small things I’d noticed since arriving. The villagers’ deference to Ronan, the way their gazes lingered on me just a second too long, and the unsettling dreams that seemed to grow clearer with each passing night.

Ronan entered the room, his face shadowed by the dim light of the fire. He seemed tired, worn down by something I couldn’t see. “How are you settling in?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

“It’s...different,” I replied carefully. “But the village is kind to me.”

Ronan nodded, though his eyes didn’t meet mine. “Good. That’s what matters.”

I hesitated, debating whether or not to ask him about what I had overheard earlier. I decided to start small, feeling out how much he was willing to share.

“This village...it’s special, isn’t it? There’s something different about the way people interact here. It feels like there’s an order, a hierarchy.”

Ronan’s eyes flickered, just for a moment, but he didn’t deny it. “The village has its ways. It’s important that everyone knows their place. Keeps things running smoothly.”

“And you?” I pressed. “What’s your place?”

He turned to face me fully now, his jaw clenched. “I protect this village. That’s my role.”

I could tell he wasn’t going to give me anything more, but I wasn’t ready to let it go. “Who is Caleb Sterling?” I asked, keeping my voice as steady as I could.

For a brief second, I saw something flash in Ronan’s eyes—fear, or maybe anger. But then it was gone, replaced by the stoic mask he wore so well. “You shouldn’t worry about that,” he said quietly, his tone final.

But I *was* worried. Because whatever was happening here, I was starting to realize it was bigger than just me, or even Ronan. And it was coming.

As Ronan turned away, busying himself with something across the room, I felt the weight of the secrets he was keeping pressing down on me. He wasn’t going to tell me the truth—at least, not yet.