The road curved like a silver ribbon through the dense pines of Silver Hollow, and Lena Cross gripped the steering wheel tighter. Her breath fogged the window slightly despite the mild mountain air. After twelve hours of driving and three pit stops where strangers stared a little too long, she was here. Finally.
Silver Hollow.
It looked like something out of a forgotten fairytale—quaint, misty, and just strange enough to feel untouched by time. And maybe that was exactly what she needed. Somewhere to disappear, somewhere no one knew her name or the secrets she carried like bruises under her skin.
She pulled into the gravel driveway of the small cabin she'd rented sight unseen. It sat on the edge of a dense forest that almost seemed to breathe. Lena shook off the thought. She was just tired. Hungry. Not thinking clearly.
A wolf howled in the distance.
Her stomach fluttered.
"Get a grip," she muttered, killing the engine and stepping into the crisp dusk air.
Inside, the cabin was rustic but cozy—stone fireplace, hardwood floors, and a kitchen stocked with the basics. She liked it immediately, even if the shadows stretched too far and the silence was too loud.
She unpacked slowly, lingering over simple tasks. She didn't want to think about why she'd left Chicago or how long it would take for her nightmares to stop chasing her. She just wanted... quiet.
But Silver Hollow didn't feel quiet. It felt alive.
Especially when she stepped outside onto the porch later that night, wrapped in a knit sweater, a cup of tea warming her hands. The moon was rising, full and pale gold, casting long shadows across the clearing.
Then she saw him.
A man stood at the edge of the woods.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Shirtless, despite the chill. The moonlight caught the hard planes of his chest, the dark line of hair trailing down his torso. His face was obscured by shadow, but she felt his gaze like a weight—sharp, assessing, familiar in a way that made her stomach twist.
She blinked.
He was gone.
The tea sloshed over her hand, burning hot. She gasped and dropped the mug. It shattered against the porch.
Heart racing, she scanned the tree line. Nothing.
"Just the woods," she whispered. "Just me being jumpy."
But deep inside, something primal stirred. Something that knew the way his presence had made her chest tighten. Something that didn't want to believe he was just a figment of her imagination.
Because that kind of heat didn't come from nowhere.