Chapter 5: Unsettled

Eden wakes up unrested.

The knock on her bedroom door was firm. Precise. It wasn’t the kind of knock that asked. It informed.

Eden rubbed her eyes, her throat dry. She hadn’t slept—not really. Just floated in and out of a fog filled with glowing eyes and snapping bones.

“Eden,” came her father’s voice, clipped and even. “Downstairs. Now.”

She didn’t answer—just moved.

The floor was cold under her feet. She threw on the first hoodie she could find—navy blue, sleeves stretched long from use—and shuffled toward the stairs. Her limbs felt too long. Her skin felt tight. Everything ached like she was getting sick.

But she knew better.

He was already seated when she entered the kitchen.

Her father sat at the small round table, reading from a thick leather-bound notebook that had no title on the cover. A black coffee steamed at his side. His face was unreadable. Suited. Composed.

His eyes flicked up once as she walked in.

“Where were you last night?” he asked calmly.

“I told you. Sierra’s.”

“You didn’t answer your phone.”

“It died.”

He nodded once, as if logging the data.

“You weren’t at Sierra’s.”

Eden froze mid-step.

He didn’t say it like a guess.

She forced a shrug. “We walked around. Lost signal.”

His eyes locked onto hers.

There it was—that moment where time stopped between them. His gaze wasn’t angry. Or even disappointed.

It was measuring.

“You look pale,” he said after a beat. “Did something happen?”

“No,” she said too fast. “Just… tired.”

Another pause. His fingers drummed once on the notebook.

Then he nodded. “You’ll be late.”

That was it. Dismissal disguised as permission.

Eden turned away quickly, grabbing a granola bar from the counter. Her hands shook slightly as she unwrapped it. She shoved it into her backpack without a bite and walked out the front door.

Only when the cold hit her cheeks did she realize she was holding her breath.

The bell rang, but Eden didn’t move.

She sat at her desk, staring at the equation half-scribbled on the whiteboard. Something about motion. Velocity. Distance.

All she could think about was the way Ryker’s body folded into itself—like motion made flesh.

“Earth to Eden,” Sierra said, nudging her with a pencil.

Eden blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been zoning out for like… the entire class.”

“Oh.” She glanced down. Her notebook was blank.

Sierra narrowed her eyes. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I didn’t sleep much.”

“Is this about that guy?” Sierra whispered. “You’re acting like you saw a ghost.”

Eden forced a laugh. “I wish it was just a guy.”

Sierra stared at her. But before she could press, the teacher called out a last-minute assignment and everyone shuffled for the door.

Eden walked slower than usual. Every step felt slightly off—as if the floor were tilting under her. The world had a slight buzz to it, like her hearing was just a half-second behind the sound.

Outside, a dog barked. Loud. Too loud.

Eden flinched.

She clutched her backpack straps and kept her head down. Just a dog.

But its bark had sounded like a warning. Like it smelled something.

That night, she lay on her bed with her knees drawn to her chest, staring at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above.

She hadn’t told anyone.

Not Sierra.

Not Logan.

Not her dad.

Especially not her dad.

He’d ask too many questions.

And what would she even say?

Hey, remember that weird neighborhood near the industrial zone? Yeah, a guy turned into a wolf in front of me. He had gold eyes and maybe recognized me. I think I recognized him too. Can I borrow the car?

She closed her eyes. And still saw him.

The way he’d looked at her.

Not surprised.

Not frightened.

Like he was waiting for something to happen.

As she stared out from her window, she could feel she was being watched and truly, far from her window; just beyond the treeline behind the school, a pair of eyes watched from the dark.

Not Ryker’s.

Not Kade’s.

Not human.

Still waiting.

**

Back at the pack, Kade had called a meeting.

The meeting was held in the old war room.

A basement carved beneath the roots of the earth, lit only by fire and silence. The walls were stone, cold and unwelcoming. It smelled of ash, sweat, and age. No one sat. No one dared.

Kade stood at the center.

Seven wolves stood in a half-circle around him—trusted fighters, old blood, the few still willing to follow him without question.

Talon leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, quiet.

“She’s out there,” Kade said. “She saw Ryker. Watched him shift. Watched the boy become his true form.”

No one spoke.

“It won't be long before we start hiding from them again.”

The silence held like ice.

“A human saw one of us. And we don’t know who she’ll tell, or when.”

That stirred the room. Eyes flicked toward him—uncertain. Daring. Nervous.

“She hasn’t reported it yet,” Kade continued. “No alerts. No scent of outsiders. No hunters near the edge.”

“So she’s protecting us?” someone said from the dark.

Kade’s head turned slowly. “No,” he said. “She doesn’t understand what she saw. Yet.”

He stepped forward.

“But she followed one of ours. She drew him out. That’s not instinct. That’s not curiosity. That’s something else.”

The fire crackled. No one interrupted.

He let the words settle like dust.

Then: “She’s not to be harmed.”

A beat.

“Not yet.”

A murmur moved through the circle.

“If the hunters find her—”

“They won’t,” Kade cut in.

Talon spoke finally. “You think she’s connected to them?”

“I don’t know,” Kade said. “But I want her alive.”

“Why?” someone else asked.

Kade’s eyes glowed faintly in the firelight. They gleamed like gold dipped in blood.

“Because she looked at Ryker the same way I once looked at a human. Just before they pulled the trigger.”

No one breathed.

“Find her,” he said. “Bring her to me.”

“No harm. No blood.”

Then—when the circle had begun to break, when shoulders relaxed and the fire hissed into itself—Kade leaned in, his voice low, meant only for Talon’s ears:

“I need to know…”

A flicker of doubt crossed his features, rare and dangerous.

“…what kind of magic lured one of ours out under a full moon.”

The fire cracked.

And somewhere far above them, deep in the frozen forest, the wind shifted—carrying with it a scent that hadn’t touched their land in years.

Something old but familiar was waking.