Austin pushed through the automatic doors of the grocery store, his senses alert despite the mundane setting. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, the quiet hum of shoppers in the aisles a stark contrast to the storm brewing in his mind. He grabbed a cart and started collecting the essentials; milk, bread, eggs but his eyes kept darting back to the crumpled letter folded into his pocket, burning like a brand. It was from the Thornes' family again, the same ones who had emailed him days ago. This letter was more direct, proof that they knew where he lived, when he'd be back in town. It wasn't just a request for a meeting anymore, it was a reminder that they had eyes everywhere.
Three nights ago, Austin had been sitting at the edge of his bed, half-zipped duffel bag at his feet, laptop balanced across his thighs. He was scrolling through a bunch of overpriced rental cars, looking for something cheap but reliable enough to make the long drive from New York to Moonstone without falling apart.
That's when it appeared, ping. A new email.Subject line: RE: A Long Overdue Conversation
At first, he thought it was spam. But then he saw the sender's name: Elizabeth Thornes'.His stomach tightened.
He clicked.
Dear Austin,I hope this letter finds you and Adam in good health. Forgive the suddenness of this message, I understand how difficult it must be, returning to Moonstone after so long, and under such painful memories.
But Clara was dear to me, and I made her a promise. A promise that if anything ever happened to her, I would watch over Adam. Not just from afar, but properly, with my own eyes. The boy has so much potential. So much of her in him. It would be a dishonor not to nurture it.
I know about what happened in the UK. The school, the fight, the expulsion. Boys like Adam tend to draw trouble before they understand who they are. I'd like to help him with that. As for you— well, I also know you're no longer with the NATO forces. The world is changing, and those who can't adapt tend to be… displaced.
I'd like to meet. Come to the estate. I believe it's time for old debts and promises to be honored.
Warm regards,Elizabeth Thornes'
He never responded. Not because he didn't want to but because he didn't know how. And now, two days later, a handwritten letter showed up at their doorstep. No postmark. No return address. Just a perfect looping cursive on thick parchment paper and the same cryptic invitation, this time accompanied by a chilling implication:
"I do hope you'll visit before the wolves come knocking."
Austin's jaw clenched. The Thornes. The name carried a weight he couldn't shake, a shadow he'd hoped was behind him. But the message was clear: they were watching.
Meanwhile, back at home, Adam was cleaning up. He had showered and changed into comfortable clothes, moving through the quiet house with a heaviness that pressed on his chest. In his room, a worn photo frame sat on the bedside table, a picture of his mother, Clara. Her smile in the photo was radiant, full of life and warmth, her eyes sparkling with that playful light he remembered so well. She had been the heart of their family, a whirlwind of laughter and joy.
Adam stood near the window, looking out at the tree line, half-lost in the golden haze of the afternoon. The new house smelled like varnish and old wallpaper, but every once in a while, something in the wind carried a scent that pulled at him. Pine. Rain-soaked bark. Animals.
It reminded him of her.
His mother used to do this thing, this weird, wonderful thing. Howling at the full moon like it was some private joke between her and the stars. He used to laugh at her for it, call her goofy, even though it made the neighbors stare. But now, with everything he knew… it all made a strange kind of sense.
Clara had been a werewolf.
Austin had told him the truth when he was fourteen. He hadn't wanted to. Said it was better to leave the past buried. But Adam had pressed, haunted by that night, by the look in his father's eyes when he said "something happened to Mom."
And when the truth came out, it didn't exactly shock him. If anything, it explained a lot.
His perfect vision, for one. The way he could read tiny whiteboard notes at the back of the class or catch the spin of a basketball even in dim lighting. Or how, in the locker rooms of his school in the UK, he could hear whispers behind closed doors, slurs and insults they thought he couldn't hear, muttered under breath and behind backs. fucking negro, slave. Words that didn't belong to the modern world, but still found life in shadowed corners.
He never told the teachers why he fought that day. Why he lost his temper. Why the other kid ended up with a bloody nose and a fractured pride.
But that wasn't the first time either. He remembered telling a girl the exact number of roses and tulips in the school garden just by scent. Remembered the way he could race across the basketball court, outpacing seniors like it was nothing. It wasn't bragging—just something in his bones. Something easy.
It wasn't normal.
But it wasn't enough to make him a werewolf either. That's not how it worked.
Austin had explained it. You had to be bitten or scratched to turn. You had to survive it. That was the rule.
Still, something about Adam had always been… tilted. Sharpened. Just a little off-center from the human norm. A part of him wondered if that part of Clara lived on in him—not the beast, but the echo of it.
The memories brought a small, bittersweet smile to Adam's face as it brought his mother back in mind. She had been a force of nature, a woman who loved fiercely, lived boldly, and never took herself too seriously. But now, the photo felt like a window into a world that was gone.
Adam's thoughts drifted as he moved downstairs, his steps slowing as he neared the kitchen. The place held a painful silence. He could still feel the cold shadow that clung to the room, the weight of that terrible night when he came home late from the park, basketball still clutched under his arm. It was nearly eight when he returned, expecting maybe a scolding for being out so late. But instead, there were police cars parked on the lawn, officers moving in and out of the house like ghosts. When he tried to step inside, a uniformed man stopped him. Austin was tense, tight-lipped, and told him they couldn't stay, it wasn't safe.
Adam had been only eight then, too young to understand what was happening, but old enough to feel the fractures. The truth came later, painfully unveiled by Austin during a rare moment of openness years afterward. Clara had been murdered in that very kitchen, viciously attacked, the blood, the broken cutlery, shattered plates, and ruined cupboards were a testament to the brutal struggle. Austin believed it was a pack of werewolves, more than one, though no one was ever caught, no answers given. The investigation was shut down, dead-ended. It was as if the city wanted to forget, but Austin never could.
Adam closed his eyes for a moment, the ache in his chest tightening. He reached out to steady himself on the counter, feeling the cold granite beneath his hands. A tear hovered at the edge of his eye, but he blinked it away just as Austin's voice called from the front door.
"Ready to go?"
Adam wiped his face quickly and nodded. Austin was back, the familiar rumble of his voice a small comfort in the storm of uncertainty.
Outside, the garage door rolled up, revealing the old red Mustang Austin had kept hidden away for years. It was a relic, a symbol of better days, but Austin smiled when he slipped behind the wheel. The engine roared to life, strong and steady. "Still got it," Austin muttered with a hint of pride.
Adam climbed in beside him, feeling the rush of adrenaline as the car rolled out of the suburbs and toward the mountains. The landscape shifted, neat rows of houses gave way to sprawling estates perched on lush hillsides, the kind of place where the city's elite lived in quiet luxury. This was Moonstone's answer to Beverly Hills, and at the summit stood the Thornes' estate.
The mansion was an imposing sight, a sprawling, traditional old-money estate built from gray stone and dark wood, with tall arched windows reflecting the fading sunlight. The wrought iron gate bore a large, ornate letter T, the family insignia, flanked by stone lions. Ivy crawled up the stone walls, and manicured gardens stretched out on all sides, dotted with marble statues and elegant fountains.
Austin swallowed hard as they approached, his soldier's discipline fighting against the weight of uncertainty. Adam's eyes widened, taking in the grandeur, the towering columns, the heavy oak doors carved with intricate designs, and the polished marble steps leading up to the entrance. Inside, the scent of rich mahogany and leather greeted them, along with soft, distant classical music.
A butler, impeccably dressed, opened the door and ushered them inside with a courteous nod. The house was quiet, almost too quiet. Austin's gaze flicked around the grand foyer, wary but composed.
"Mrs. Thornes will see you shortly," the butler said smoothly, leading them up a wide staircase lined with portraits of stern-faced ancestors.
At the top, they were led down a long corridor to a study that felt more like a throne room. Dark wood panels lined the walls, shelves packed with leather-bound books, and heavy velvet drapes blocked out the last of the daylight. A massive desk sat at the far end, cluttered with papers and a crystal decanter filled with amber liquid. Behind it, Elizabeth Thorne rose to greet them.
She was a woman of contradictions, warm eyes framed by sharp cheekbones, a smile that was both welcoming and calculating. Her voice was calm but carried an edge of authority that set Austin on alert immediately.
"Welcome back, Austin. And you must be Adam. You've grown into quite the pup," she said with a hint of amusement in her tone.
Adam's gaze sharpened at the word "pup." He glanced at his father, who offered a quick, almost imperceptible nod to keep his cool. Elizabeth's words confirmed what Adam suspected, this family was not only powerful but deeply entwined in the world of werewolves.
Elizabeth gestured toward the door. "Adam, why don't you go relax in the rec room? There are some... companions you might enjoy meeting. Austin and I have some serious business to discuss."
Adam's stomach twisted, but Austin gave him a firm nudge. "Go on. Just do what she says."
Adam headed off, his footsteps echoing in the marble hall.
Austin followed Elizabeth into the study, his senses on high alert as the conversation shifted from pleasantries to the darker truths beneath. Elizabeth's tone softened with feigned sympathy.
"I understand why you've come back," she said, pouring two glasses of whiskey. "The world's changed, Austin. I know about your time in the Special Forces, the medics becoming redundant, the new breed of soldiers. It must have been difficult."
Austin's eyes narrowed. "How do you know all this?"
Elizabeth smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "We have our ways. But that's not why you're here, is it? You want answers about your wife."
Austin's hand tightened around the glass. "I want to know what happened to Clara."
Elizabeth's voice dropped. "The truth is... complicated. You're tangled in a web far bigger than you realize. And now that you're back, things will move faster."
Meanwhile, despite his curiosity ever since they had arrived back home or why they were here, Adam had managed to keep to himself. but as he strolled to the supposed direction of the wreck room he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by all the questions that were spawning in his head.
He found the rec room tucked behind a set of heavy double doors. Inside, it was like a private sanctuary — a sprawling man cave filled with plush leather couches, a massive plasma TV mounted on the wall, and shelves lined with games and memorabilia. A sleek PlayStation 5 sat waiting under the screen, surrounded by dozens of game controllers and snacks.
His eyes were drawn to a large bowl filled with chocolates. A smile tugged at his lips, he loved chocolates. As he reached out to take one, a smooth, feminine voice whispered behind him.
"If you touch that, I'll kill you."