Blackwood was the kind of town that looked harmless in the daylight but shifted into something entirely different at night. By day, it was sleepy and quiet, a handful of stores on Main Street, gossip traded over coffee counters, and a forest that hemmed everything in like a green wall. But at night, the forest wasn't just trees anymore. The shadows seemed to breathe.
Aria Sullivan didn't believe in fairy tales, but as she tugged her diner jacket tighter around her frame and started down the cracked road toward home, she couldn't deny the way the night pressed in. The moon was too bright, the silence too heavy. Even the sound of her shoes on the pavement seemed loud enough to wake something she didn't want woken.
"Relax," she muttered under her breath, her voice louder than she intended in the quiet. "You've walked this road a hundred times. Nothing's out there except raccoons and regret."
Her backpack thudded against her back with each step. She had just finished another closing shift at Mel's Diner, which meant eight hours of frying burgers, refilling coffee cups, and pretending she didn't hear customers complain about prices. By the end of it, her hair smelled like onions, her palms stung from scrubbing tables, and her patience had taken an extended vacation.
The road home wound along the edge of the forest. The streetlamps flickered, casting long stretches of darkness between their weak yellow halos. She shoved her hands deeper into her pockets. She wasn't afraid of the woods—usually—but her mom's voice still whispered in the back of her head.
Don't linger after dark, Aria. The forest isn't safe then. The wolves are watching.
She used to roll her eyes at that. Wolves didn't watch people. They ate rabbits and maybe the occasional deer, not teenage girls carrying leftover pie in Tupperware.
But tonight, the silence felt wrong.
She stopped, heart pounding.
There. A sound.
A growl.
Low, guttural, vibrating through the still air.
Her throat went dry. "Oh, God," she whispered. She turned slowly toward the treeline, half-hoping she'd see a stray dog. Maybe a coyote. Anything remotely normal.
Two glowing amber eyes stared back at her.
Not reflective. Not accidental. Watching.
Every instinct in her screamed to run, but her brain—traitorous, frozen—stayed locked on those eyes. The shape stepped forward, and her breath hitched.
A wolf. But no wolf she'd ever seen in a documentary. This one was massive, fur as black as midnight, shoulders nearly level with her chest. Its teeth glinted in the moonlight, each one sharp enough to tear flesh like paper.
Her thoughts spiraled.
Okay, Aria. You're about to die. At least your obituary will be interesting. "Local waitress tragically devoured by monster wolf. Survived by an empty bank account and an unfinished Netflix list."
The wolf snarled, the sound reverberating through her bones.
She ran.
Her sneakers pounded the pavement, lungs burning, backpack bouncing wildly. The wind stung her eyes as adrenaline surged through her. But behind her came the scrape of claws, the thud of heavy paws gaining ground.
"You've got to be kidding me!" she gasped. "I can't even afford health insurance!"
She aimed for the old bridge, the only landmark ahead. Maybe she could dive into the river. Maybe she'd drown, but hey—better than being eaten alive, right?
But she didn't make it that far.
The wolf leapt, landing squarely in front of her with terrifying grace. Aria skidded to a halt, nearly toppling over. She stumbled backward, arms flailing. The beast loomed closer, eyes glowing brighter, fangs bared in a snarl.
Her knees shook so hard she thought they'd give out. She couldn't outrun it. She couldn't fight it.
Okay. This is it. Goodbye, cruel world. Tell my manager I quit.
She squeezed her eyes shut. "Please don't eat me, I taste like fryer oil!"
The growl deepened—then stopped.
A new sound cut through the air.
"Enough."
The word wasn't loud, but it carried authority like a hammer.
The wolf froze.
Aria's eyes snapped open.
A man stepped out of the shadows. He moved with the calm assurance of someone who had never lost a fight in his life. He was tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a dark coat that fit him too well to be off-the-rack. His presence was magnetic, dangerous. Even from several feet away, she could feel it, as though the air itself bent around him.
But what stopped her breath were his eyes.
They glowed faintly amber. The same unnatural color as the wolf's.
The beast whimpered—whimpered—and backed into the treeline, melting into the shadows until it vanished completely.
Aria staggered, trying to catch her breath. "What… what the hell was that?"
The man's gaze flicked to her, sharp and assessing. His features were striking in the moonlight: a strong jaw, perfectly cut cheekbones, dark hair that looked like it belonged in a magazine. He looked out of place here, too polished, too powerful for small-town streets.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, voice smooth but firm.
Her jaw dropped. "Are you kidding me? I was almost dog food, and you're giving me attitude?"
A flicker crossed his expression, like he hadn't expected her to talk back. "Go home," he said simply.
Aria's fear curdled into irritation. "Sure, I'll just skip down the murder-wolf trail and pretend this was all a bad dream. Great plan, thanks."
His eyes glinted. Not anger. Something else. Amusement? No. Curiosity.
He stepped closer, extending a hand. "Get up."
Only then did she realize she had dropped to her knees, gravel digging into her skin. She hesitated, then took his hand.
Big mistake.
Heat shot through her palm, up her arm, like electricity. She yanked her hand back the second she was steady.
"Who are you?" she demanded.
His gaze held hers, steady, unreadable. "No one you need to know."
"Wow, that's not suspicious at all. You just show up with glowing eyes and a pet wolf, but no, you're totally normal."
For the first time, something almost like a smirk tugged at his lips. But it was gone in an instant.
"Forget this night," he said, voice dropping lower. "Forget me. Go home, Aria."
Her breath caught. "How do you know my name?"
Silence. His eyes glowed brighter, and for a moment, she swore his features shifted—sharper teeth, darker gaze.
Then he turned, disappearing back into the shadows as if he'd never been there.
Aria stood frozen, scraped palms stinging, heart pounding. She wanted to scream, to run, to chase him and demand answers. But her legs wouldn't move.
Her mother's words whispered again: The wolves are watching.
"Great," Aria muttered shakily, slinging her backpack higher. "Now the wolves know my name. Just what I needed. Midnight nightmares and a creepy stranger with a God complex."
But deep down, she knew this wasn't over.
And she had no idea just how much her life was about to change.