The safehouse wasn't much. An old ranger's cabin, walls bowed inward from years of snow and rot, its roof sagging under a quilt of moss. The porch creaked with every breeze. Two windows were boarded up; the third was missing entirely, a jagged hole letting in thin beams of light that painted the dust in gold.
But it was shelter.
Logan laid Juno gently on the rusted metal cot in the corner, pulling a moth-eaten wool blanket over her trembling form. Her face was pale, and her lips were cracked. Sweat beaded along her hairline. She murmured something he couldn't make out, her breath shallow.
"She'll sleep for a while," Lila said behind him, setting down her rifle and checking the half-broken lock on the door. "Shadow binds take a lot out of a person. Her body needs time to push the rest of it out."
Logan crouched beside the girl, brushing a damp strand of hair from her forehead. "Will she come back from it?"
Lila hesitated. "Hard to say."
That wasn't the answer he wanted. He stared down at Juno's face, so young, too young to be wrapped up in any of this. Seventeen and already pulled into the claws of things no one should ever see.
"She's strong," Lila added softly. "Stronger than she knows."
Logan stood, feeling the weight in his bones. Every inch of him ached. His clothes were still damp from last night's storm, clinging to his skin like a second, miserable hide. His hands trembled faintly—not from fear, not exactly. From something else.
The change.
He stepped to the window, staring out at the trees. The forest lay still under the weak light of morning. Birds chirped distantly. Mist crawled low along the ground, weaving through the undergrowth like ghosts reluctant to let go of the night.
It looked peaceful.
It wasn't.
He could feel it. Beneath the surface. The woods are watching. Waiting.
"How long do we have?" he asked.
"Not long," Lila replied. She was sitting at the rough-hewn table now, cleaning the rifle with steady, practiced hands. "Sun buys us a little time. The Bloodhowl prefers the dark. But they're hungry. They'll come."
Logan flexed his hands, watching the way his knuckles bulged slightly, the nails still thick, dark crescents. His reflection in the cracked window glass showed a stranger: face hollowed by exhaustion, eyes rimmed in dark circles, but beneath the human lines, something deeper glimmered. Something alive.
"I'm not like them, am I," he said quietly.
Lila looked up. Her gaze was unreadable. "No."
He turned. "But I'm not like you either."
"No."
He let out a dry, humorless laugh. "So what the hell am I?"
For a moment she said nothing, only resumed cleaning the rifle, as if the answer could be found between oil and steel.
"Something older," she said finally. "Something I don't fully understand."
"Helpful," Logan muttered.
"You want honesty or comfort?"
He sighed, rubbing his face. "Neither's gonna change the facts."
Silence stretched between them again. Dust drifted lazily in the light. The creak of the rafters above, the faint rustle of mice in the walls.
"Logan," Lila said after a while, softer now. "Whatever you are—it doesn't own you. Yet."
He glanced at her sharply. "Yet?"
"The thing inside you—it's waiting. Testing the seams. Every time you shift, every time you give it ground, it takes a little more."
He swallowed hard, throat dry. "And if I don't shift?"
"Then it'll tear you apart from the inside."
Logan looked back at Juno. Her breathing had evened out a little, though a faint tremor still ran through her limbs. Her fists clenched the blanket like a lifeline.
"I can't afford to fall apart," he said hoarsely. "Not until she's safe."
"Then hold the line," Lila said. "For as long as you can."
A knock startled them both.
Not a knock, exactly—a soft, rhythmic tapping at the wall.
Logan's heart thudded. Lila was already on her feet, rifle raised, eyes hard.
They moved together toward the sound. Logan eased around the edge of the window, peering into the thicket outside.
Nothing.
No movement.
The tapping stopped.
"Just the wind," Lila said cautiously.
Logan wasn't so sure.
He stepped onto the porch. The morning air was cold, sharp with pine and damp earth. Somewhere in the distance, a crow called once, then fell silent.
Nothing stirred among the trees. But still, the feeling pressed in—a weight beneath his skin, crawling along his spine.
"They're watching," he murmured.
"They always are," Lila said from behind him.
He turned back inside, bolting the broken door as best he could.
"We move at noon," she said. "I've got a map. There's an old sanctuary, maybe five miles east. Built before the Hollow went bad. Still has a few wards left, if we're lucky."
"Will it hold?" Logan asked.
"Better than this."
Logan sat at the table, running his thumb along the blade's hilt. The sigil etched into the steel pulsed faintly in the light, as if breathing with him.
"You said the Bloodhowl marked her," he said after a moment. "Marked her for what?"
Lila's lips pressed into a thin line. "A vessel."
Logan's stomach twisted. "A vessel for what?"
"For whatever's coming next," she said grimly. "She wasn't taken for food, Logan. She was chosen."
He stared down at the blade. "And you think I was, too."
"No," she said softly. "You weren't chosen. You were born into it."
That quiet hung heavier than any scream.
Behind them, Juno stirred again.
Logan rose quickly, kneeling beside her. "Hey, kid. You're safe. We've got you."
Her eyes opened, unfocused. "They're coming," she whispered hoarsely.
Logan's chest tightened. "Who's coming?"
She swallowed. "The silver-eyed man. He… he said the forest won't let me leave."
Logan exchanged a glance with Lila. "Did he hurt you?"
Juno shook her head faintly. "He watched me. Told me to follow. But the shadows caught me first."
Her hand reached blindly for his. Logan took it gently.
"I don't want to go back," she whispered.
"You won't," he promised.
Outside, the birds had gone silent again.
Lila stepped to the window, scanning the woods. "We're running out of quiet."
Logan rose, feeling the weight of the blade in his hand. "Then let's use what little we've got."
For now, the morning held.
But beneath it, the forest watched.
And inside him, the wolf waited.