Summer wanted to go home. She wanted to be on a flight heading back to where the weather made sense, where the sun blazed hot and sharp until it got tired and gave way to a cooler breeze. She kept thinking of all the ways this could go wrong, but her mind refused to play out the worst-case scenarios.
Going back meant remembering. And remembering meant sitting in it, letting it spread through her chest like ink in water. She knew what that could do to her. She'd spiral. She'd stop trying. She'd disappear into her room and become the kind of person who never left the bed.
So no, she couldn't go back.
She would miss the beach and the way the air always smelled like it had just rained. She would miss her parents' house, and the lemon tree her mother planted the year she was born. But this place was new. And new meant distraction. Maybe even happiness, if she let it.
She exhaled into her gloved hand. The cold bit at the edges of her coat. Kuin was deeper in winter than she had expected. A beautiful island, all snow-covered roads and quiet buildings, surrounded by cliffs, tall trees, and the ocean. Everything looked like it belonged in a postcard. Even the people here seemed designed for it—tall, striking, effortless.
She sighed again and looked around. Where was Finn?
Of course, he was late.
From the corner of her eye, she spotted a red Jeep crawling through the snow. It moved slowly but steadily, tires crunching against the ice. She felt her chest loosen as it rolled to a stop in front of her.
Finn. Her stepbrother. Her mother had married his father when she was seventeen, and for two quick, uneasy years, they were family. When the divorce happened, her mother had to let go of him, too. If she were honest, he was probably her best friend.
Even if they only saw each other six times a year, give or take. Now she'd be seeing him every day, for who knew how long. She had sold her parents' house, locked the rest of their life into a storage unit, and moved across the world with no job, no plan, and no idea what came next.
The jeep door opened, and Finn stepped out, taller than she remembered. And that was at the funeral.
"Hey, bug," he said, walking toward her with a grin, arms already opening for a hug.
"Hey, big guy."
He wrapped her up, warm and solid.
"Did you get taller," she asked, laughing against his jacket, "or did I just shrink?"
"Taller. Been working out."
She pulled back and looked at him. "And new tattoos. Mom would've lost her mind."
"Yeah," he said with a soft laugh. "She would."
Sometimes she hated how much he looked like their mother. The brown of her eyes sat just the same in his. The softness of his mouth, the way it curved when he smiled, even the way he tilted his head when he was listening. It all reminded her. Too much.
Coming here had been a bad idea.
She could still go back. The airport wouldn't leave for the next port until morning. She could grab a room in one of those shell-colored motels, rebook her flight, and leave before the sun came up. Finn wouldn't stop her. He'd probably hug her, tell her it was okay, and wave as she boarded.
And then she'd go home. Do the right thing. Find a therapist. Try to fix what was left of her life.
She could. But she wouldn't.
Because there was no going back. Not really. Not after everything that could go wrong had already happened. One night. That was all it took. One drunk driver and her entire world split into jagged pieces of nothing.
The road stretched long in front of them. Mountains pressed in from one side, the sea glinting far below on the other. It felt like driving through a painting. Endless, sharp-edged cliffs. Snow softened the ridges but didn't hide them. She leaned into the cold window.
"I'm still shocked you haven't left this place," she said.
Finn glanced over. "It's been my only home. And... my family." She'd never say it out loud, but this was her first time in Kuin. Not once in all those years had she ever made the trip to visit him.
She could blame her mother. That Josephine never liked coming here.
But really, it was her.
"Ouch," she said, almost to herself.
Finn raised an eyebrow.
"No, I mean... It's not like that. I just wish I had been here more."
"You're here now. That's all that matters."
He smiled again, and from this angle, she could see the sharper edge of his canine. Her hand brushed her teeth out of instinct. Her's were different.
She turned back to the window. The skyline broke against the cliffs like waves, water smashed and curled against stone. People lived here. People built lives here. If they could do it, maybe she could too. At least long enough to figure herself out again.
"How's Suki?" she asked.
Finn grinned, that same lazy warmth spreading across his face. "She's great. Amazing."
Suki had been in the picture for almost five years now. Dark hair, flushed cheeks, a smile that lit up any room. She was everything Finn needed and more.
"And you still haven't asked her to marry you?"
"I have. Twice."
"What? When? Why am I just hearing this now?"
He turned down a new street, wide and flat, lined with streetlamps and frozen trees. A huge sign came into view:
WELCOME TO THE ISLAND OF KUIN
"Because," he started.
"Because what?"
"She keeps rejecting me. But I get it. She wants to wait until after graduate school."
"Graduate school?"
"Yeah. There's a college here."
The word hit her like a loose thread catching on a nail. College. She had almost done that. Had gotten into Juilliard. The acceptance letter was still tucked inside a box, buried beneath winter coats and half-empty notebooks, somewhere in storage.
"Summer."
She blinked. "Hmm?"
"You could go to college here."
"What? Why?"
"I mean, I know they don't have the piano courses you'd want, but you could study something else. Anything else?"
"I don't know, Finn. What would I even study?"
"They've got options. What about history?"
"History?"
"Yeah. You've always been a historian at heart. You remember things other people forget."
She looked out the window again, watched as a cluster of buildings came into view at the base of the hill.
"I could," she said slowly. "I'd have to think about it."
"Well, whatever you decide, I fully support you. Ah, here we are."
She leaned forward.
A small town wasn't supposed to look like this. She'd always imagined flat roads, tiny buildings, two traffic lights if you were lucky, and everyone wearing the same jacket from the only store in town. But this was different.
There were buildings — tall ones — some wood, others steel and glass. People walked the snow-covered sidewalks in heavy coats, and others wore barely anything, laughing through the cold. A few waved. Most just stared at her.
"This is the main town," Finn said, turning the wheel. "People come here to get stuff, sometimes. That down there…." he pointed past a row of stores and trees. "That's the hospital."
It looked big. Bigger than it had any right to be, almost the size of the one back home.
"The vet is close to it. There's a shopping mall, a supermarket, hardware stores, and even a sports center."
She blinked. "Aren't small towns supposed to be, I don't know… small?"
He grinned. "Not here."
They passed more buildings. A line of cafes. A bookstore. A row of houses that didn't match but still belonged together. She almost laughed at herself. The word small didn't mean the same thing here.
"The houses are scattered," Finn went on. "Some people live in the woods, others in gated communities, some in townhouses or just… wherever."
"Where do we live?" she asked.
"Oh, right up ahead. Don't worry, I got you a car. It's kinda far from the main community, so you'll need it."
"Community?"
"Yeah. That's where a lot of people live. Big houses, space, privacy."
"Finn."
"Huh?"
"Are you in a cult?"
He laughed so hard the whole car shook. "No. Not. It's just how the town's always been. The land's been divided up like this since before my father was born. Even before his."
"Okay," she said slowly, still squinting out the window. "Speaking of father… How's Papa Jake?"
"He's good. Excited to see you."
"And I, him."
They drove for a few more minutes, the view changing again. The edges of town faded behind them, giving way to stretches of snow-covered hills, woods, and scattered houses that looked carved into the land itself.
Beautiful. That's the word that came to her.
The road curved, leading them to a brown and grey building tucked between tall trees. Snow dusted its rooftop. A narrow trail of footprints cut through the white ground, leading toward the porch.
It looked a little secluded, but not too far from the other houses she could spot through the trees. Walkable, maybe. But she wasn't doing that anytime soon.
"Shit. I told Jesse to clean this before I got back," Finn muttered as he parked.
"Jesse?"
"Yeah. He lives with us." He caught her raised eyebrow and added, "Don't worry. He's a cool kid. Lazy, but cool."
"Okay…"
Finn didn't move right away. He stayed with his hands resting on the wheel, brow furrowed together as if he'd just remembered something.
She turned to look out her window….
And her heart stopped.
There, standing so close she could see its breath fog the glass, was a wolf. Massive. As tall as the car.
She didn't scream so much as choke on the sound. It snarled then snapped its jaw at her. The world spun sideways.
And then there was nothing.