Jake stood in the kitchen, head buried in the fridge.
"Jeez… nothing but leftovers. I can't eat no damn leftovers," he muttered. "Damn, I'm starving."
He grabbed a plate, tossed it in the microwave, and leaned on the counter, arms crossed.
Then—
A sound.
Faint.
Like a whisper buried in static.
"Jake…"
He froze.
"…Hello?" he called out—half-joking, half-serious.
But no one was there.
"Weird…" he muttered, eyes scanning the quiet kitchen.
He reopened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of soda, tipped it to his mouth, and popped the cap off with his teeth.
CRACK!
The glass shattered in his hand.
Jake flinched, staring in shock as shards hit the floor—liquid fizzing down his arm.
"What the hell…?" he whispered, backing away from the kitchen slowly. His hand didn't even hurt.
Not a single scratch.
Something else caught his attention.
His eyes narrowed toward the stairwell.
"Sarah? What are you wearing?" he asked, confused.
Sarah froze halfway down the steps.
How can he see me? she thought, heart pounding. The cloak's supposed to mask me—unless…
She gripped the railing tighter.
"His eyes… they're glowing red."
"Sarah…?" Jake called again, staring straight at her.
BEEP.
The microwave went off.
He turned to glance at it—just for a second.
When he looked back… she was gone.
Jake stared at the empty staircase, his pulse quickening.
"Okay… what the hell is going on?" he muttered.
The microwave beeped again behind him, but he didn't move.
He stepped forward slowly—toward where he swore Sarah had been.
Unseen, Sarah stood completely still, holding her breath.
He can't see me now… he's right in front of me…
The air between them felt strange. Charged.
Carefully, she began backing away, turning to retreat up the stairs.
At that moment, Jake turned, heading back toward the kitchen.
His arm swung naturally—and smacked something soft on the way.
Sarah froze. Eyes wide.
Jake stopped mid-step.
"…Huh?"
He glanced at his hand, then toward the empty staircase.
No one there.
"I need sleep…" he muttered, but paused again, staring at his palm.
"That felt like… ass, if I'm not mistaken."
Then he shook his head and walked off.
Sarah exhaled silently and vanished up the stairs, heart pounding in her chest.
He saw me. He actually saw me. No one sees through the Stealth Cloak, not even The First Bloods… but he did.
He's changing… but what's he becoming?
She reached her room, shut the door quietly, and leaned back against it.
The Stealth Cloak pulsed faintly on her shoulders—still active. Still masking.
But not from him.
Not anymore.
Sarah tossed the cloak onto her bed and began pacing, her mind racing.
I need answers. What is he? Could he be even stronger than Verek?
Just how powerful are you, Jake? she thought, reaching for the journal.
She flipped it open—this time, ready to face whatever was inside.
But most of the pages were blank… or warped with faded ink.
She kept flipping, faster now.
"C'mon. Answers. Give me something," she muttered.
Then—she froze.
A page near the center.
Bold symbols carved into the parchment—strange, pulsing faintly.
Not English. Not Latin. Not even Wolfscript.
"What is this…?" she whispered, brushing her fingers over the markings.
As her fingers brushed the page—
Heat.
Sharp, sudden. Not from the room—but from within.
Her vision blurred.
Then—darkness.
A flash.
Somewhere ancient. Silent.
Four hooded figures circled a flickering fire, shadows writhing behind them like spirits.
One voice echoed, raspy and low:
"He shall return… the Apex shall rise again."
Wolves howled in the distance.
The flames flared—then turned black.
The scene twisted—warped—
And then she saw it:
A beast. Towering.
A monstrous black man-wolf standing in the heart of a forest, eyes glowing—power swirling around him in light and shadow.
Every wolf around him bowed.
And beside him… stood her.
Sarah.
Her own face. Calm.
Then—whiteout.
She gasped, jolting back into her room, chest heaving.
The journal lay shut beside her.
Still. Silent.
But something was different.
The markings from the page… were now burned into her skin.
Etched along her right arm—symbols glowing faintly before fading into her flesh.
She clutched her arm, wide-eyed.
"What the hell is happening…?"
Sarah picked up the journal again.
The symbols were gone.
But the other pages, this time… they weren't blank.
The faded pages were now inked. Every word clear as day.
Catherine's voice echoed through the entries—
Personal thoughts. Field notes. Secrets.
Sarah read in silence for minutes, flipping pages faster and faster.
"She was tracking something… something powerful."
Heart pounding, Sarah closed the book and stood. "I need water."
She stepped out into the hallway and moved toward the parlor.
Then—burning pain lanced through her arm.
"Agh—!" she gasped, clutching it.
The symbols on her skin glowed fiercely—brighter than ever.
Her breath hitched.
Growl.
Low. Deep. Monstrous.
Not from outside…inside her mind, like a memory.
Sarah's eyes darted around.
Something was happening.
"WAKE UP, JAKE."
Jake jerked on the couch, breath shallow.
That voice again—booming and distorted, clawing through his skull.
"WAKE UP, JAKE."
He shot upright, drenched in sweat.
"Shit… same damn dream," he muttered, rubbing his face.
Then -- he heard it.
A sound from the stairs.
He turned just -- in time to see Sarah stumbling in the hallway, clutching her arm.
"Sarah!" he called, already moving.
But the closer he got—the louder the growl became.
Sarah looked up, eyes glowing faintly.
"Jake, stop—!" She warned, voice tight.
"Don't come any closer"