I never thought I'd be grateful for the scent of wet dog, but as I stood at the edge of the forest clearing, surrounded by a pack of werewolves, it was strangely comforting. At least they didn't smell like blood or death.
Damien stood protectively in front of me, his broad shoulders tense. I could sense his anxiety—a new ability I was still getting used to. It was like a low hum in the back of my mind, a constant awareness of his presence and emotions.
"It's okay," I whispered, placing a hand on his arm. "They don't seem hostile."
He glanced back at me, his green eyes filled with worry. "You don't know them like I do, Isabella. Werewolves can be... unpredictable."
As if to prove his point, a large grey wolf stepped forward, its amber eyes fixed on us. I held my breath, my heart pounding. The wolf's form shimmered, and in its place stood a man with long, silver-streaked hair and those same piercing amber eyes.
"Damien," the man's deep voice rumbled. "It's been a long time."
Damien's posture relaxed slightly, but I could still feel his unease. "Garrett. I didn't expect to see you here."
Garrett's gaze shifted to me, curiosity evident in his expression. "And who's this? Your new mate?"
I felt heat rise to my cheeks, but before I could speak, James stepped out from behind a large oak tree. I hadn't even realized he was here.
"This is Isabella," James said, moving to stand beside us. "She's... special."
The way he said it made me shiver. I still wasn't used to the idea that I was anything other than ordinary.
Garrett raised an eyebrow. "Special how?"
James looked at me, silently asking permission. I nodded, though I wasn't sure what I was agreeing to.
"She can sense us," James explained. "Even in human form."
A murmur rippled through the gathered werewolves. Some looked intrigued, others wary. Garrett's eyes widened slightly, the only indication of his surprise.
"Is this true?" he asked me directly.
I swallowed hard, suddenly aware of all eyes on me. "Yes," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "I can sense you all. It's like... a warmth, a presence in my mind."
Garrett stepped closer, and Damien tensed again. But the older werewolf simply studied me, his amber eyes seeming to look right through me.
"Fascinating," he murmured. "I haven't encountered one like you in... well, a very long time."
"One like me?" I echoed. "You mean there are others?"
Garrett exchanged a glance with James. "There were," he said carefully. "But that's a conversation for another time. For now, we have more pressing matters to discuss."
He turned to address the pack. "The hunters are getting bolder. They nearly caught young Michael last night."
A collective growl rose from the gathered werewolves. I felt a chill run down my spine at the mention of hunters. I'd heard whispers about them, but this was the first time I'd heard them discussed so openly.
"We need to be more careful," Garrett continued. "No lone wolves running around. We hunt in pairs, at minimum. And we need to establish a proper watch rotation."
As he spoke, I noticed Damien's fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. I could feel waves of guilt and frustration rolling off him.
"This is my fault," he muttered, low enough that only I could hear. "I should have been more careful. If I hadn't been seen—"
I squeezed his arm. "Don't," I whispered. "You couldn't have known."
Garrett was still talking, outlining plans and strategies, but my focus was on Damien. I could sense his inner turmoil, his desire to protect me warring with his instinct to rejoin his pack.
Suddenly, a new sensation washed over me. A presence, familiar yet different from the others. It was approaching fast, filled with a mix of fear and determination.
"Someone's coming," I blurted out, interrupting Garrett mid-sentence.
All eyes turned to me again, but I was too focused on the approaching presence to feel self-conscious.
"A werewolf," I added, closing my eyes to concentrate. "Young, I think. And scared."
Garrett barked out an order, and two wolves darted into the trees. Moments later, they returned, half-dragging a young man between them. He was breathing heavily, his clothes torn and dirty.
"Michael," Garrett said, his voice a mix of relief and anger. "What happened? You were supposed to stay hidden."
Michael looked up, his eyes wild with panic. "They found the safe house," he gasped. "The hunters—they have new weapons. Silver mist or something. It—it burns."
A collective hiss went through the pack. Damien cursed under his breath.
"How many?" Garrett demanded.
Michael shook his head. "I don't know. At least a dozen. Maybe more. They're coming this way."
Chaos erupted in the clearing. Werewolves shifted forms, some howling in anger, others whimpering in fear. Garrett shouted orders, trying to organize a defense.
In the midst of it all, I felt a tug on my arm. It was James, his face grim.
"We need to get you out of here," he said urgently. "If the hunters find you—"
"No," I interrupted, surprising myself with my vehemence. "I'm not leaving Damien."
James looked like he wanted to argue, but another voice cut through the noise.
"Isabella's right," Damien said, moving to stand beside me. "We stick together."
I felt a surge of warmth at his words, but it was quickly overshadowed by a new sensation. A chill that had nothing to do with the cool night air.
"They're here," I whispered, my eyes wide with fear.
As if on cue, a silver canister arced through the air, landing in the center of the clearing. It began to hiss, releasing a fine, shimmering mist.
The effect was immediate. The nearest werewolves howled in pain, their skin blistering where the mist touched them. The acrid smell of burning flesh filled the air.
"Run!" Garrett roared, his voice half-human, half-wolf.
Damien grabbed my hand, pulling me towards the trees. But as we turned to flee, I saw them. Dark figures emerging from the forest, armed with strange weapons I'd never seen before.
The hunters had arrived.
And as Damien dragged me into the darkness of the forest, one thought echoed in my mind: Nothing would ever be the same again.