B1: HTM - 3

The drive home felt tense, the silence heavy in the car. My mother’s face was set, her jaw clenched, and her hands were locked onto the steering wheel. She kept checking the rearview mirror, a small crease forming between her brows each time she looked.

I wanted to say something to break the tension, to tell her everything would be okay, but a part of me knew that wouldn’t help. I’d never seen her this serious, and it made my stomach twist with worry.

The world outside the car grew darker as the sun started dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows over the trees on either side of the road.

"Mom, are you... are you sure we’re safe?” I whispered, my voice barely above a murmur. She glanced at me, her expression softening just a little.

"I’m sure, Amelia," she said, her voice as steady as she could make it.

"We’re almost home."

But as she spoke, I saw her grip tighten on the wheel again. Her eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror, then back to the road, and her jaw clenched just a little tighter. Without warning, a dark shape blurred past the car, fast and shadowy. My heart leapt into my throat, and I felt my hands instinctively clench against the seat.

"Mom… did you see that?"

She didn’t answer, but I could see the tension in her shoulders ratchet up even higher. She pressed her foot down, accelerating, her gaze flicking from the road to the mirrors, searching, scanning.

Another shadow darted out from the trees, closer this time. I caught a glimpse of eyes — sharp, amber eyes that glowed in the darkness.

“Hold on, Amelia,” she whispered, a tremor in her voice.

“Just stay calm.”

But her words barely had time to sink in before there was a loud, thudding impact. Something heavy hit the back of the car, sending it skidding sideways.

My mother fought to keep control, gripping the wheel with white-knuckled intensity as the car swerved across the narrow road. My heart hammered in my chest, a pulse of raw fear I could feel in every nerve.

“Mom! What’s happening?” “Amelia, just hold on!” she shouted, trying to steady the car.

“We’re going to be alright. I promise.”

But even as she said it, I could see the fear in her eyes. Another impact. This time, it was so powerful it shattered the back window. I felt shards of glass spray over me, small and sharp, as something heavy clambered onto the car.

My mother cursed under her breath, her face pale. “Amelia,” she said urgently, her voice low but intense, “listen to me. If anything happens, if I say ‘run,’ you run. You hear me?”

“But, Mom —”

“No questions, Amelia!” she barked, and I fell silent, my heart pounding. She was serious. I’d never heard her use that tone, never seen that raw determination in her eyes. Suddenly, the roof of the car dented inward, a guttural, animalistic snarl filling the air.

My stomach churned as claws raked across the metal, the shriek of tearing metal making me want to cover my ears. My mother swerved hard, trying to shake whatever was on top of us, but the weight didn’t budge. And then, in a blur, it was gone.

The sudden silence was deafening. I barely had time to catch my breath before something else slammed into the side of the car, flipping it. We were thrown sideways, my head smacking against the door as the world turned upside down. Glass shattered, metal crunched, and then… everything went still.

Dazed, I forced my eyes open, pain radiating from my shoulder and head. I blinked, trying to focus, to get my bearings. The car was tilted on its side, the windows smashed. My mother groaned beside me, her hand reaching out to touch my arm.

“Amelia… are you alright?” she whispered, her voice weak.

I nodded, swallowing hard. “I... I think so.”

But before I could say anything else, movement caught my eye outside the shattered window. A figure was approaching, slow and menacing. He was tall, muscular, with glowing amber eyes that locked onto me. The rogue’s face twisted into a dark smile, his teeth bared in a snarl.

My mother turned, her gaze hardening as she saw him. She unbuckled her seatbelt, forcing the door open with a grunt of pain. She stumbled out, her body tense, and positioned herself between me and the rogue.

“Stay back,” she snarled, her voice low and dangerous. “You’re not getting to her.”

The rogue just laughed, a cold, mocking sound. “Oh, Mira, you know you can’t protect her forever. Why not just make this easy on yourself?”

My mother’s stance shifted, a ripple running through her as she let her wolf surface.

“Not while I’m breathing,” she growled.

The rogue lunged, and they clashed with a fury that left me breathless. My mother moved with the precision of a trained fighter, her movements swift and controlled. But the rogue was relentless, his strikes brutal, fueled by some dark, savage rage.

I watched, frozen, as claws met claws, teeth bared in snarls and growls. Another rogue appeared, circling the wrecked car, his gaze locking onto me. Panic surged through me, my heart racing. I couldn’t stay here. I had to get out. I crawled through the broken window, my hands shaking as I stumbled onto the ground. I glanced back, watching my mother fight with a desperation I’d never seen. But she was outnumbered, her strength waning. The rogues had her backed up against the car, their movements coordinated, deadly.

“Run, Amelia!” she screamed, her voice cutting through the night.

I hesitated, my feet frozen, torn between obeying her and staying. But the fear in her eyes, the urgency, told me everything I needed to know. With a sob, I turned and ran into the forest, the sounds of battle echoing behind me. Branches scratched my face and arms as I stumbled through the dark, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I didn’t know where I was going, only that I had to keep moving.

The image of my mother fighting, her fierce determination, played over and over in my mind. I’d barely gone a few hundred yards when I heard it — a terrible, gut-wrenching scream, one that made my blood run cold. I knew that scream. It was my mother’s.

“No,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “No, no, no…”

But I couldn’t stop. I had to keep going. She’d told me to run, to survive. Tears streamed down my face as I pushed myself forward, my chest heaving with sobs. The pain in my heart was overwhelming, a raw, searing ache that felt like it would tear me apart. Somewhere behind me, I heard footsteps.

The rogues were following. They wouldn’t let me get away so easily. I stumbled, catching myself on a tree, my mind spinning with fear and grief. I was alone. Truly alone. And the weight of that realization nearly crushed me. I forced myself to keep going, though every step felt heavier than the last. My mother’s face, her last, desperate plea, haunted me with every breath.

“Please,” I whispered to the darkness, my voice barely a whisper. “Please... let me be safe.”

The forest seemed endless, and my legs were growing weaker with every step. But I kept going, because that’s what my mother would have wanted. To survive, no matter what. Somewhere deep inside me, I felt a small spark of strength, a reminder of her courage. She’d fought for me, given everything to keep me safe. I couldn’t let that be in vain. And as I stumbled deeper into the forest, surrounded by shadows and the chilling memories of what I’d lost, I clung to that one small hope — that somehow, I’d find a way to keep going, just like she’d wanted.