A blood-red dawn had stretched across the sky, casting one long shadow over the small town of Crestwood. This quiet, unruffled village, nestled between snow-capped mountains and thick forests, was harboring a secret so dark that it might finally begin to consume those trying to dig their way into it. Cold winds tore through the town, whispering about the unknown, with a sensation of impending doom.

Cassidy Harper shivered, huddling deeper into her thin coat as she walked down the deserted street. Her breath misted in the cool air and entwined into a curtain of tiny, silvery drops with the mist clinging so romantically to the cobblestones. It wasn't winter's approach that chilled the air; it was that sort of cold which burrowed into your bones-the kind that made a person think that something-or someone-was watching.

Cassidy had grown up in Crestwood, where everyone knew everyone, and there just weren't any secrets. Or so she had thought. Of late, things began to change: the weather started freaking out, while mountain storms that once blew in with predictable regularity howled like beasts to tear the town asunder. Yet, it wasn't only the weather; something even more insidious dug in its claws deep.

As she passed the old Crestwood Inn, she caught out of the corner of her eye something moving. There was a figure at the top floor window peering back at her. For that instant, their eyes seemed to burn bright with some unnatural light before disappearing into the dark. Cassidy's heart pounded, and she hurried as the hairs on the back of her neck bristled.

She had gone in search of answers, and there was only one place that came to mind where she'd find them. The Twister was one of those dingy bars existing well on the edges of town, where locals went to drown their fears and forget their troubles. It was a place of whispered conversations and dangerous men, the type of place where secrets were kept and changed like currency.

She yanked open the big, heavy-wooden door and stepped inside. Cassidy was hit by a wave of warmth and the smell of alcohol. The bar was dark; the shadows were tenebrous, creeping around the room as if they had a life of their own. Her eyes scanned the room, locking gazes with Ryder Kincaid-a man oozing danger. Tall, wide-shouldered, his face was rugged and bisected with a scar running from just above his left eyebrow down to his jawline. His hair had fallen across his face, and with his elbows supported on the bar, nursing a drink, he was just but a wolf alone amidst chaotic celebratory feels.

Her eyes had met his as she drew closer, a flicker crossing his face in recognition. They'd grown up together, yet years had changed them both. There was an edge now to Ryder, something pulling at Cassidy while warning her to keep her distance.

"You shouldn't be here," Ryder whispered low, his voice husky as gravel.

Cassidy swallowed hard. "I need answers, Ryder. I need to know what's going on in this town."

Ryder's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Cassidy thought that he would refuse. But then he let out a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "Things are changing, Cassidy. And not for the better. There are forces at work here, things you wouldn't believe even if I told you."

Cassidy's heart was racing. "Try me."

Ryder leaned in close, hot breath dancing across her ear. "There's a storm coming, Cassidy, and it's not about the weather. The past is catching up with this town, and with us. You want answers? You'd better be prepared for the truth, because once you are, there's no going back."

A chill ran down Cassidy's spine, but not because of anything to do with the cold outside. She had this really icky feeling that Ryder was right-that whatever was coming for Crestwood was lots worse than she'd ever imagined.

Outside, the wind screamed, rattling panes against the windows of The Twister as it whipped up, lowering further the storm and, indeed, the darkness over Crestwood. With Cassidy seated across from Ryder, she knew she'd crossed into another line of secrets about this town she had thought she knew.

Thing is, some secrets are a lot better off buried. To be continued.