I woke up tied to a chair.
My head felt like someone had used it for batting practice. The tranquilizer left a bitter taste in my mouth and my vision was still fuzzy around the edges. I tried to move, but plastic zip ties held my wrists to the metal armrests.
"Finally awake." Her voice came from somewhere behind me. "I was starting to worry I'd given you too much."
I was inside the textile factory now, in what used to be the main floor. Broken machinery cast long shadows in the dim light. The windows were boarded up, but enough moonlight leaked through the gaps to see the rusted assembly lines and piles of rotting fabric. The air smelled like mold and motor oil.
My gun was gone. So was my backup knife. Even the silver locket was missing from my wrist. Professional job.
"You drugged me," I said. My voice came out rougher than I wanted.
"Had to. You weren't going to listen otherwise." Her footsteps echoed on the concrete floor as she walked around to face me. "You never were good at listening."
Same face. Same amber eyes. Same scar on her left eyebrow from when we—when I—fell off my bike at twelve. But this version of me looked exhausted. Dark circles under her eyes, lines I didn't have yet. Her black tactical gear was worn and patched in several places.
"This isn't possible," I said.
"A lot of things aren't possible until they happen." She pulled up a metal crate and sat down across from me. "Time travel used to be science fiction too."
I tested the zip ties. They were tight, but not impossible. If I could dislocate my thumb, I might be able to slip out. The question was whether I could do it without her noticing.
"Let's pretend for a second that you're not completely insane," I said. "Why should I believe you're from the future?"
She smiled. Not a happy smile. More like she was expecting this question and didn't enjoy the answer.
"Because I know things," she said. "Things that haven't happened yet. Things that only you would know."
"Like what?"
"Next Thursday, Marcus is going to ask you to dinner. You'll say yes, but you'll spend the whole night wondering if it's a real date or just work. It's neither. He's been ordered to get closer to you."
My stomach dropped. Marcus had been hinting about dinner for weeks. "That doesn't prove anything. You could have guessed."
"Fine." She reached into a bag beside her and pulled out what looked like a tablet computer. But the screen was different—more like liquid metal than glass. "How about this?"
She tapped the surface and it lit up with colors I'd never seen before. The images started playing immediately.
It was Los Angeles, but not the LA I knew. The skyline was broken. Buildings lay in ruins, their steel skeletons reaching toward a blood-red sky. Smoke rose from fires that had been burning for days. The streets were empty except for abandoned cars and piles of debris.
"This is 2035," she said quietly. "Ten years after the Blood Moon ritual."
The image shifted to show bodies. Lots of them. Human and werewolf, scattered across what used to be Pershing Square. Some were torn apart. Others looked like they'd been burned from the inside out.
"Jesus," I whispered.
"It gets worse."
The next image showed a mass grave. Hundreds of bodies, maybe thousands, being bulldozed into a pit the size of a city block. A sign nearby read "WEREWOLF CONTAINMENT SITE 7." Soldiers in hazmat suits moved around the edges, carrying flamethrowers.
"The humans won," Future Aria said. "Barely. But they decided werewolves were too dangerous to coexist with. Every single one. Men, women, children. Even the ones who'd never hurt anyone."
I stared at the screen, trying to process what I was seeing. "This can't be real."
"You want more proof?" She swiped to another video.
This one showed a man I recognized. Marcus, but older. His face was gaunt, his hair streaked with gray. He was kneeling in what looked like a prison cell, his hands chained behind his back. A human soldier stood over him with a gun.
"Marcus Chen," the soldier said on the recording. "Convicted of collaborating with terrorist werewolf cells. Any last words?"
Marcus looked directly into the camera. His eyes found mine, like he could see me watching across ten years of time.
"Tell Aria I'm sorry," he said. "Tell her none of this was her fault."
The gunshot was loud in the silence of the factory.
I jerked back so hard the chair scraped against the concrete. "Stop. Stop it."
Future Aria tapped the screen off. "He died protecting human refugees from werewolf extremists. Doesn't matter. The humans killed him anyway. They killed everyone who'd ever worked with our kind."
"Why are you showing me this?"
"Because you need to understand." She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. "The Blood Moon ritual isn't what they told you. It's not about maintaining peace between the species. It's about giving the Council enough power to start a war they can't win."
"The Council keeps order. They prevent wars."
"The Council is planning genocide." Her voice was flat, matter-of-fact. "They're going to use the ritual to evolve beyond human control. Super strength, enhanced healing, the ability to turn humans at will. They think it'll make them untouchable."
I shook my head. "Vincent would never—"
"Vincent Blackwood is the one who came up with the plan." Her eyes went cold. "Our dear father figure. The man who raised us. The man who killed our real father and wiped our memories."
"You're lying."
"Am I?" She reached into her bag again and pulled out a photograph. Old, faded, but still clear enough to see. A woman with dark hair and amber eyes, holding a little girl who looked exactly like me. Behind them stood a man I didn't recognize—tall, kind face, gentle eyes. Nothing like Vincent's cold stare.
"That's our real family," Future Aria said. "Our mother was trying to expose the Council's plans when Vincent had her killed. Our father tried to protect us. Vincent killed him too. Then he took us in and made us into his perfect weapon."
The photograph felt like a punch in the gut. The woman's smile was warm, genuine. The man's hand rested protectively on her shoulder. They looked happy. They looked like people who'd never hurt anyone.
"No." I fought against the zip ties, ignoring the pain as they cut into my wrists. "You're lying. You're trying to mess with my head."
"I'm trying to save everyone we care about." She put the photograph away. "The ritual is in thirty-seven days. If it happens, both species die. I've seen the future. I've lived through the war. I won't let it happen again."
"So what, you traveled back in time to warn me? Why me? Why not warn the Council, or the government, or—"
"Because you're the key." She stood up, pacing now. "The ritual requires a pure-blood werewolf. Someone from an old family line, with power they haven't even discovered yet. There are maybe a dozen pure-bloods left in the world."
My blood went cold. "And?"
"You're one of them. The strongest one. They've been preparing you for this your whole life." She stopped pacing and looked at me directly. "They're going to sacrifice you, Aria. Vincent is going to put you on an altar and drain every drop of blood from your body to power their transformation."
I stared at her, trying to process this. "That's insane. Vincent cares about me. He—"
"He loves you like a father loves a prize racehorse." Her voice was bitter. "Useful, valuable, and ultimately expendable."
Something inside me snapped. Maybe it was the drugs still in my system, or the stress of the last hour, or just the basic impossibility of everything she was saying. But suddenly I was furious.
I worked my thumb out of its socket with a sharp pop of pain. The zip tie slipped over my dislocated hand. I was out of the chair and moving before Future Aria could react.
She was fast, but I was angry. My fist connected with her jaw before she could dodge. She stumbled backward, blood trickling from her lip.
"Feel better?" she asked, wiping her mouth.
I went for her throat, but she caught my wrist and twisted. I spun with the motion and drove my elbow toward her ribs. She blocked it easily.
We fought like we were dancing. Every move I made, she countered. Every attack she threw, I knew how to defend against. It was like fighting a mirror.
"You can't beat me," she said, dodging a kick to her knee. "We're too evenly matched."
"We'll see about that." I grabbed a piece of broken machinery and swung it at her head.
She ducked, but barely. The metal bar whistled past her ear and crashed into the wall behind her, sending sparks flying.
"Careful," she said. "You break my skull, you break your own."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Instead of answering, she pulled out a knife. Not just any knife—my backup blade, the one she'd taken from me while I was unconscious. The silver edge gleamed in the dim light.
She tossed it to me. I caught it automatically.
"Go ahead," she said, spreading her arms wide. "Kill me. End this right now."
I raised the knife. The blade trembled in my grip.
"Do it," she said. "If you think I'm lying, if you think I'm your enemy, then do what you're trained to do. Kill the threat."
I stepped forward. The knife was steady now, aimed at her heart. All I had to do was push forward. Six inches of silver through the ribs, and this nightmare would be over.
But I couldn't.
My hand wouldn't move. Every instinct I had was screaming at me to strike, but my body wouldn't obey. It was like trying to hurt myself. Actually, it was exactly like trying to hurt myself.
"I can't," I whispered.
"I know." She took the knife from my unresisting fingers. "Neither can I. We're connected, you and me. Two versions of the same soul. We can hurt each other, but we can't deliver a killing blow."
"That's impossible."
"So is time travel. So is werewolves. So is a lot of things." She sheathed the knife and picked up her bag. "But that connection is the only thing that's going to save us. Both of us."
She walked toward the door, moving with the easy confidence of someone who knew I couldn't stop her.
"Wait," I said. "Where are you going?"
"To stop the ritual. With or without your help." She paused at the doorway, silhouetted against the faint light from outside. "But I'd rather have you on my side. You're going to figure out the truth eventually. When you do, find me."
"How?"
"You'll know." She stepped into the shadows. "Oh, and Aria? Don't trust anyone from the Council. Not Vincent, not the other hunters, not even Marcus. They're all working for the same people who want you dead."
"What about Dr. Elena?" I called after her.
But she was already gone, leaving only the echo of her footsteps and the lingering scent of white tea and jasmine.
I stood alone in the empty factory, holding my dislocated thumb and trying to make sense of what had just happened. Everything she'd shown me had to be fake. Digital manipulation, special effects, some kind of elaborate con job.
But the photograph felt real in my memory. The woman's smile, the man's protective stance. And that connection I'd felt when I tried to kill her—like trying to cut off my own hand.
My phone buzzed in my jacket pocket. Somehow, she'd missed it when she'd searched me.
A text from Marcus: "You okay? Vincent's been asking about your report."
I stared at the message for a long time. According to Future Aria, Marcus was a spy. Vincent was a murderer. The Council was planning genocide. Everything I'd believed about my life was a lie.
But what if she was wrong? What if this was all some elaborate psychological warfare designed to turn me against the people who'd raised me?
There was only one way to find out.
I popped my thumb back into its socket with a wince and headed for the door. Dawn was breaking over Los Angeles, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. The city looked peaceful from here. Normal. Like the kind of place where horrible futures couldn't come true.
My phone buzzed again. Same number, but a different message: "The Blood Moon rises in 37 days. Choose your side carefully. —Future You"
I stared at the phone until the screen went dark, then slipped it back into my pocket.
Thirty-seven days to figure out if the woman who wore my face was my salvation or my destruction.
I had a feeling it was going to be the longest month of my life.
End of Chapter 2