Indianna shut her bedroom door behind her, heart pounding, lungs tight. The images wouldn't stop replaying in her head—Greyson's transformation, the way his body shifted and cracked into something wild and powerful. Something not human. Something terrifying.
She had seen him naked before. But this time, it wasn't vulnerability she saw—it was power. Raw, magnetic, and inhuman.
She pressed her back to the door, her fingers trembling as she slowly slid down to the floor. Her thoughts were spinning, chasing themselves like a tornado she couldn't escape. She wrapped her arms around her knees and stared blankly at the floor.
What was he?
And why, after everything, didn't she feel just fear?
Why was there something else in her chest—something twisted between terror and… recognition?
Eventually, exhaustion won the battle against adrenaline. Indianna crawled into bed, dragging the covers over her like a shield. She closed her eyes, hoping for silence. For darkness. For numbness.
But her mind had other plans.
She was in the woods again.
The air was thick with fog, dense and cold. Trees stood like ancient skeletons, bare-limbed and judging. Her small feet pounded against the muddy ground, slipping as she ran. The sound of panting—hers and something else's—echoed too close behind.
She didn't know where she was going. Only that she had to keep moving.
Branches whipped her cheeks. Her lungs burned. Her legs were weak. She could hear growls—low, angry, hungry. The howls tore through the air like knives.
Then—dead end.
She skidded to a stop, nearly falling. Jagged boulders blocked the path. Behind her, the growls grew louder, closer. She spun around, her breath caught in her throat.
Yellow eyes emerged from the dark.
Dozens of them.
The wolves stepped out of the shadows—massive, fanged, and snarling. They circled, creeping forward with the deliberate patience of predators toying with prey. She backed against the rock wall, tiny hands gripping the cold stone behind her.
She was going to die.
But then—a growl, sharper. Louder.
One wolf leapt in front of her.
It was huge—larger than the rest—black as night with a sleek coat and burning eyes. It didn't turn on her. It stood between her and the others, teeth bared, snapping and snarling.
The pack hesitated.
The black wolf growled again, and the others slowly retreated, slinking back into the woods.
And then the wolf turned.
Its eyes met hers. Not beastly, not savage. Human.
Familiar.
She froze. The fear in her chest turned into confusion. Warmth. Recognition.
It wasn't just a wolf.
It was him.
She didn't know how, but she knew.
It was Greyson.
The black wolf lowered its head, stepping closer. She reached out instinctively. Her small fingers brushed against its fur, and it leaned into the touch.
Then—
She woke up with a gasp.
Indianna bolted upright, heart hammering like a war drum. Sweat drenched her back, and her sheets twisted around her legs like vines. She pressed a hand to her chest, then to her lips, as if the memory might escape her body if she didn't hold it in.
She could still feel the fur beneath her fingertips. The weight of the wolf's stare. The warmth of something ancient and familiar.
A dream.
It had to be a dream.
But it didn't feel like a dream.
She slipped out of bed, pacing her room in the dark. The air felt stifling. She opened the window and leaned on the sill, letting the night air cool her burning face.
Was it real?
Could that have been a memory—one long buried until now?
She ran her fingers down her arm, stopping at the scar on her wrist. It tingled.
Could Greyson have been there the night her father died?
Could he have saved her?
Or… had he been one of the wolves she needed saving from?
"No," she whispered aloud, shaking her head. "He wouldn't have."
But even as she said it, doubt curled in her stomach like smoke.
She remembered the way her mother avoided the topic of the attack. The way she shut down every time Indianna asked questions about that night.
The pieces were starting to shift.
What if Greyson hadn't just entered her life now?
What if he had been part of it all along?
And if he had saved her once, why had he never told her?
Why pretend they were strangers?
Unless… he couldn't. Or wasn't allowed to. Or chose not to.
That thought made her chest tighten.
She turned away from the window, rubbing her temples. Her mind was racing, a thousand questions spinning in circles. She felt like the floor had tilted under her, like the world was shifting again and she didn't know which way was up.
The dream had felt real.
Too real.
And that wolf… it had looked at her like she mattered. Like it would protect her with its life.
Her heart ached.
She wanted answers. She wanted the truth. She wanted her mother to stop pretending nothing had ever happened. She wanted Greyson to stop hiding behind smirks and arrogance and mind games.
She wanted to know what she was a part of.
And why her life had never been normal—even before she met him.
She curled back into bed but didn't sleep again.
She just stared at the ceiling, replaying the dream in her head over and over, committing every detail to memory.
Because somewhere inside her, she knew.
It hadn't just been a dream.
It was a memory.
One someone had wanted her to forget.
But she was done forgetting.
And if Greyson really had saved her once…
She needed to know why.