Chapter 2: Running from Shadows

10 years later…

The Winter Hill estate is asleep, but I’m not. The darkness outside is suffocating, the chill sharp enough to slice through my thin sweater. My breath clouds in the icy air as I slip out the back door, the world eerily silent, save for the faint whistle of the wind. It’s the kind of quiet that clings to you, heavy and oppressive.

I run.

I tear through the estate grounds like something is chasing me, though nothing ever is. The pounding of my feet against the earth drowns out the chaos in my head. Pain flares in my ribs where Nick’s fist landed last night, but I push harder. The burn in my lungs, the ache in my muscles—it’s all better than the suffocating weight of my life.

I don’t have a wolf. At twenty, I’m still waiting for what every other Lycan gets at twenty. No shifts. No heightened senses. Just me—ordinary, broken, and alone. I’ve spent years chasing the impossible, running until my legs nearly give out, praying to feel that spark of connection. Nothing. Not a whisper, not a growl, not a hint of the wolf that should be mine.

The forest around the estate is alive with shadows, and the trees creak like they’re mocking me. Twigs snap under my feet, and I swear the wind carries whispers, voices I can’t quite make out. But none of it scares me. The only monster I fear is back in that house, waiting.

Nick.

My steps falter at the thought of him. My mother’s second husband. Her savior in the eyes of the pack. My tormentor behind closed doors. My fingers twitch at the memory of his smirk, the way his fists spoke louder than words.

I push myself harder, sprinting through the trees, my vision blurring. I can’t outrun him—not really. But for these brief moments, I can pretend I’m free.

The memories catch up with me anyway.

I didn’t always live like this.

My father was a werewolf, not a Lycan, but he was everything Nick isn’t. Gentle. Kind. Loving. My mother, from an elite Lycan bloodline, gave up her status to be with him. We had enough and we were happy. Until the night it all ended.

I was ten. I remember the screams. The blood. The glowing green eyes of the wolves that tore my father apart. And a voice—low and chilling—that still haunts my dreams. My body froze as I watched him die, powerless to save him.

And then it was over.

My mother, desperate and destitute, turned to her family. They took us in, but it came with a price: a new husband. Nick. A man who brought power and reputation back to the family, but at the cost of everything else.

The estate looms ahead as I skid to a stop, gasping for air, my chest heaving. My hands grip my knees, and I force myself to breathe. The cold bites at my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in my chest.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, the sudden vibration jarring in the stillness. I pull it out, staring at the screen. Mom.

I hesitate. Her calls are rare, and they’re never good news. Against my better judgment, I answer.

“Hello?”

“Agatha,” she says, her voice as cold and detached as always. “Come home. Now.”

I blink, the demand catching me off guard. “Why?”

“Your sister is getting married,” she says, her words sharp and to the point. “Three weeks from now. The new Alpha of the Vanderwilson pack. Be here by noon.”

Lilly.

My sister. The one person who knew what it was like to live under Nick’s thumb. She left six years ago, the moment she shifted into her Lycan form. She was free—and she never looked back. Not at me.

The line goes dead before I can respond, leaving me standing in the middle of the woods, phone in hand, anger bubbling under my skin.

Lilly. Getting married. To an Alpha. And no one thought to tell me until now?

She escaped, and I’m happy for her. Truly. But she left me behind to face this nightmare alone. She left me with Nick.

The estate rises before me like a specter as I trudge back, the sun just beginning to crest the horizon. Golden light filters through the trees, but it doesn’t reach me. The closer I get, the heavier the air feels. By the time I step inside, my heart is pounding for an entirely different reason.

The house is silent, but it’s never safe. Tension coils in every corner, a constant reminder that Nick could appear at any moment. I slip upstairs, moving quietly, every creak of the floorboards making my pulse spike.

Once inside my room, I lock the door and lean against it, my chest heaving. My mother’s words replay in my mind: Be here by noon.

I’ll go. I’ll pack and smile and stand by Lilly’s side like the good little sister everyone expects me to be. But I won’t pretend.

Not anymore.