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Elena's POV
The forest pressed against her mind like a constant presence, even as they returned to Caleb's cabin. The warning from Mrs. Hartwell echoed in her ears: "The forest keeps its secrets—and not all of them are friendly."
The air was heavier now, the sunlight unable to fully pierce the dense canopy of trees overhead. Caleb was silent as they walked, his hand resting lightly on her elbow whenever the path grew uneven. His touch was steady, grounding, but the tension in his jaw told her he was far from calm.
Elena finally broke the silence. "What did Mrs. Hartwell mean about the forest?"
Caleb didn't answer right away. His eyes scanned their surroundings, his steps careful and deliberate. "She's lived here her whole life," he said finally. "Long enough to see things she shouldn't have."
"That's not an answer," Elena pressed.
Caleb sighed, his shoulders tightening. "This place has history, Elena. Most of it isn't the kind you'll find in books."
"What kind, then?"
"The dangerous kind," he said simply. "The kind you'd be better off avoiding."
Elena stopped walking, planting her feet stubbornly. "You keep saying that, but you won't tell me why. How am I supposed to avoid danger if I don't know what it looks like?"
Caleb turned to face her, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "It looks like the shadows in the trees. Like the things that don't make sense no matter how hard you try to explain them. And it looks like people asking too many questions about things they can't understand."
His voice was low, almost pleading, but Elena refused to back down. "You're not protecting me by keeping me in the dark, Caleb. You're just making me feel more alone."
The words seemed to hit him like a physical blow. For a moment, his expression softened, vulnerability flickering across his face. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the familiar mask of control.
"You're not alone," he said quietly.
Elena shook her head, frustrated. "Then stop treating me like a child. I need to know what's going on."
Caleb's jaw tightened, and for a moment, she thought he might actually tell her. But then he turned away, resuming his careful pace toward the cabin.
"We're almost there," he said over his shoulder.
Elena wanted to scream, but she followed him anyway.
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The cabin felt smaller now, its cozy interior suffocating after the vast openness of the woods. Caleb moved to the fireplace, adding a few logs to the flames, while Elena sank into the worn armchair by the window.
She watched him silently, her mind spinning with unanswered questions. Caleb was hiding something—something big—and she couldn't shake the feeling that it had everything to do with the strange events in Blackwood Hollow.
Finally, she spoke. "Do you ever get tired of pretending everything's fine?"
Caleb glanced at her, his hands pausing over the firewood. "What do you mean?"
"I mean this," she said, gesturing around the cabin. "Living out here, keeping everyone at arm's length, acting like you're the only one who can handle whatever's out there. Doesn't it ever feel… lonely?"
Caleb straightened, his expression guarded. "Loneliness is safer."
"For who?" Elena asked softly.
He didn't answer, turning back to the fire instead.
Frustrated, Elena pushed herself out of the chair and crossed the room to stand beside him. "You can't keep shutting me out, Caleb. If I'm going to stay here, I need to understand what's happening."
Caleb's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "And if understanding puts you in more danger? What then, Elena?"
"Maybe that's my choice to make," she said, her voice firm.
His gaze snapped to hers, intense and unyielding. "Not while I'm the one keeping you alive."
The air between them crackled with tension, unspoken words hanging heavy in the silence. Elena's heart pounded, but she refused to look away.
Finally, Caleb exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. "You're stubborn, you know that?"
"So I've been told," she said, crossing her arms.
A small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Fine. You want answers? Start with this."
He moved to a small chest by the fireplace, pulling out a worn leather journal. He handed it to her, his expression grim.
"What is this?"
"Proof," he said simply.
Elena opened the journal carefully, the brittle pages crackling under her fingers. The handwriting inside was old, the ink faded but legible. Her eyes scanned the first page, her pulse quickening as the words sank in:
"The Blackwood Curse—A Chronicle of Events."
"What is this?" she asked again, her voice barely above a whisper.
"It's the truth," Caleb said. "Or as close as you're going to get to it."
Elena sank back into the armchair, the journal heavy in her lap. She flipped through the pages, her mind reeling as she took in the accounts of strange disappearances, unexplainable phenomena, and whispered rumors of creatures that prowled the woods at night.
"This can't be real," she murmured.
"It's real," Caleb said, his voice hard. "Every word of it."
Elena looked up at him, her eyes wide. "And you've known about this the whole time?"
"I've lived it," he said quietly.
Her stomach churned. "That night in the woods… the wolves… was that part of this?"
Caleb hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Yes."
The single word sent a shiver down her spine.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she demanded.
"Because knowing doesn't make it any easier," he said, his voice rough. "It just makes you a target."
Elena closed the journal, her hands trembling. "And what does that make you?"
Caleb's eyes met hers, dark and unreadable. "A shield."
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Caleb's POV
The look on Elena's face gutted him. He hadn't wanted to drag her into this—hadn't wanted her to see the darkness that had consumed his life for as long as he could remember. But she was right. Keeping her in the dark wasn't protecting her anymore.
And now, as she sat there clutching the journal, her curiosity blazing brighter than her fear, Caleb knew there was no going back.
"Tell me everything," she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands.
Caleb sat down across from her, his shoulders heavy with the weight of what he was about to reveal. "It started a long time ago," he began, his voice low. "Before either of us were born. This town… these woods… they're cursed, Elena. And I'm part of that curse."
Her eyes widened, but she didn't interrupt.
"There are things out there—things you've only heard about in stories. They're real. And they're dangerous. My family… we've been fighting them for generations."
Elena's breath hitched. "Fighting what, exactly?"
Caleb hesitated, his mind racing. How could he explain this to her without scaring her away completely?
"Wolves," he said finally. "But not the kind you're thinking of."
Elena frowned, her confusion evident. "What does that mean?"
"It means," Caleb said, his voice heavy with regret, "that the monsters in the woods aren't the only ones wearing fur."
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