𐂂

.𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐯.
𝑰𝒏 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝑫𝒆𝒏

The Forest.
La Push, WA.
April

𝓢eth stumbled onto the porch, doubling over slightly as if he'd just taken a hit to the chest. His lungs clenched, refusing to expand. He dragged in a breath, but it felt thin and useless. Panic twisted through him, hot and electric, zipping through every nerve in his body until his hands started to shake. His heart pounded erratically, too fast to control, too loud in his ears. He pressed a hand to his chest, desperate to still it, to find something solid to hold onto—but there was nothing.

He hated this feeling.

He hated how his anxiety could take over in an instant, like a wave crashing with no warning, just force and noise and fear. The short breaths, the clammy skin, the dizziness—the sensation that he was suffocating while standing in the open air. It had always been there, lurking beneath the surface, but after his dad died, it had gotten worse. So much worse. Like something had cracked in him and never quite healed.

And now this. Now her.

She was the one thing he wanted more than anything, and suddenly he was terrified she might become another thing he lost.

"Seth?"

Embry's voice came first, low and gentle, cutting through the dark like a lifeline. He and Jacob rounded the corner of the house, their faces shifting instantly when they caught sight of Seth on the porch—pale, shaking, hunched like the weight of the world had finally crushed him.

Seth didn't respond at first. He couldn't. It felt like his chest was caving in, ribs folding in on his lungs. He tried to swallow down the panic, but it stuck there, thick in his throat, bitter in his mouth. He felt like he might throw up. Every breath felt like it was taken through a straw, his vision slightly swimming as the night air failed to steady him.

"Hey, hey, hey—" Embry was already moving closer, his tone low and soothing, hands up like he was approaching a wounded animal. He recognized the signs immediately. This wasn't just nerves. This was a panic attack. He knew because he had been there too, plenty of times. "You're just having a panic attack, okay? You're alright, buddy. You're okay."

Jacob, ever more blunt and never one for emotional delicacy, squinted at him. "Hey man, you good?" His voice was rougher, less understanding—not out of cruelty, just confusion. Jacob didn't know this feeling. He'd been scared, yeah. He worried about Bella all the time, but it was different. Jacob didn't unravel like this. He didn't break.

"Fine, just—" Seth's voice came out hoarse and strained, as if it hurt to even speak. "Dammit." His fists clenched at his sides, jaw locking as his chest heaved. "This wasn't supposed to go like this!" he exploded suddenly, voice cracking in the quiet night. "She wasn't supposed to find out like this, man! What if she freaks out and leaves? My God, what if she leaves?"

His voice shattered, raw with fear. It echoed off the porch, off the trees, off the tension coiled in his chest.

Jacob stepped forward, arms crossed, his expression stern—practical. No nonsense. But he didn't yell. He didn't scoff. His voice was low when he finally said, "Seth. Stop. You saved her."

Seth blinked.

"She would be dead," Jacob continued, steady and sure. "She would've bled out on that forest floor. Her throat ripped open. Gone. If you hadn't gotten there—if you hadn't done what you did—she'd be dead."

The words hung there for a second, brutal but true.

It wasn't gentle. But it was real. And real was what Seth needed. Not comfort. Not coddling. He needed someone to snap him out of the spiral—and Jacob was good at that. He always had been. Seth had looked up to him for as long as he could remember. Trusted him. Respected him.

And just like that, Seth felt something in his chest shift. Not disappear, but loosen. The pressure didn't vanish, but it gave him just enough room to breathe.

Seth nodded quietly, rubbing both hands over his face in an effort to ground himself. He had to pull it together. Now wasn't the time for unraveling, not when she was in there—alone, scared, and probably wondering where he'd gone. His stomach twisted when it hit him: she had asked him to stay. And he'd left. She had reached out to him, trusted him in that vulnerable moment, and he had walked away.

Shit.

Without wasting another second, Seth turned on his heel and slipped back into the house. His steps were fast but careful, trying not to stomp like a stampede as he made his way toward the living room. The guilt in his chest only grew heavier the closer he got.

When he reached the doorway, he paused.

Inside, the room was dim and quiet, glowing with the softest light from the kitchen. There, on the couch, sat Emily and Evee—curled up with steaming mugs that filled the room with the faint floral scent of chamomile. Seth guessed instantly that Emily had made it. It was exactly the kind of thing she would do. Comfort in a cup. He watched them for a second longer than he should have, heart tugging painfully in his chest.

Evee sat with her knees tucked to her chest, hands wrapped tightly around the mug as if it was the only thing anchoring her. Her face was pale and tired, but she was talking. Talking to Emily. And Emily was nodding gently, listening with that soft patience she had a way of offering without words.

It should've been him. He should've been the one sitting next to her. He should have explained everything. He should've stayed when she asked. But instead he had panicked. Ran. Like some skittish mutt with his tail between his legs. Seth hated himself for it.

Just as the shame began to fester all over again, the door flew open with a bang.

"Chased her all the way to the state line!" boomed Quil Ateara's voice, his tone filled with pride and absolutely no awareness of the hour—or the tension hanging in the air like smoke.

Seth winced.

From the kitchen table, Sam immediately turned around and shot Quil a sharp, silent look. A command, loud and clear.

"What?" Quil groaned, tossing his arms up as he walked into the kitchen. Completely unfazed. He snatched the lid off the cookie jar and shoved a still-warm cookie into his mouth, crumbs flying as he chewed.

Seth couldn't help the small shake of his head. Classic Quil.

Emily kept cookies on hand for exactly this reason. The boys were always starving and half-dead after phasing—aching, exhausted, always needing something to bring them back down to earth. Sugar and carbs did the trick. That, and Emily herself. She had been the heart of the pack long before she and Sam got married a month ago. She was steady, nurturing, and quietly fierce. The kind of person who made you feel safe just by being in the room.

Pack Mom, they called her. Embry had coined the term, and it stuck. Like a soccer mom—but with a house full of werewolves instead of athletes, and the "soccer ball" being a rogue vampire most days. And yeah, they all had actual moms, but that didn't matter. When they came here, when they limped in through the front door half-naked and half-broken, they called her Mom, too.

Even if it was a joke—it felt real.

Evee flinched at the sudden noise, her grip tightening around the warm mug in her hands. Her eyes darted to Emily, wide and alert. "Who's that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She turned toward the doorway—only to find Seth standing there.

Her gaze softened the moment their eyes met.

For all the chaos roaring in her mind, all the disbelief and unanswered questions—there was one thing she did know: Seth Clearwater had saved her. That wasn't up for debate. Everything else—the werewolves, the legends, the fact that maybe fairy tales weren't fiction at all—was unsteady ground beneath her feet. Her reality had been cracked wide open and she didn't know what to believe anymore. What counted as real now? What else lurked in the shadows of the world?

But Seth? He was real. And she felt safe around him. That had to mean something.

Then the front door swung open again.

The quiet comfort of the house shattered as the rest of the boys came barreling inside like a pack of wild animals—loud, laughing, completely unaware of the tension lingering in the living room like smoke.

"Almost got her that time!" Jared Cameron shouted proudly, trailing after Quil and immediately making a beeline for the cookie jar.

Emily sighed, already bracing herself for the stampede of noise.

Behind them, Leah Clearwater stepped through the threshold. She was halfway into the room before her eyes landed on Evee. She stopped short, her body tensing. Within seconds, Leah's sharp gaze snapped to her brother—fury flickering behind her eyes like a struck match. "What the hell?" she muttered through clenched teeth, quiet but seething.

Seth didn't respond. He didn't even blink. His eyes never left Evee.

He didn't care what Leah had to say right now—he didn't have the patience to hear a single complaint, a single judgment. His sister had a temper like a blade, always sharp, always cutting. And he didn't have the energy to bleed for her tonight. Not when everything inside of him was wrapped around the girl on the couch.

"Actually, I almost got her," Paul Lahote said smugly, plopping down in the chair across from Sam like he hadn't just burst into a house where someone was in a literal crisis. He snapped his fingers at Quil, who tossed him a cookie without even looking.

None of them had noticed her yet. Not really. Not the way Seth had. They were too caught up in the thrill of the hunt, too used to this cycle of violence and victory to recognize that a girl was sitting ten feet away trying to piece her world back together.

"Quiet down," Embry muttered from where he leaned against the wall, his voice low and clipped. He gave a small jerk of his head in the direction of the living room.

One by one, the boys followed his line of sight.

Jacob, standing beside him, glanced toward Sam—who now looked like he was physically holding himself back from either slamming his head against the table or slamming their heads together.

Maybe both.

The tension tightened. Evee blinked at the sudden silence, shrinking into the couch as the entire room seemed to finally realize she was there.

The moment they noticed her, the room fell deathly silent.

One by one, the boys froze in place, their bodies stiffening like deer caught in headlights. It was comical, really—these tall, powerful, supernatural beings suddenly reduced to sheepish teenagers caught red-handed. Embarrassment flickered in their expressions, but it wasn't just the shame of having spoken out of turn—it was the shared dread of the scolding they knew was coming. Sam didn't tolerate carelessness, especially around outsiders.

The silence hung heavy in the air, until Jacob finally spoke, his voice gruff but casual, trying to slice through the tension.

"It's because Bella got back tonight," he said, glancing toward Sam. "That's why the redhead came back."

Evee's head tilted slightly. "The redhead—?"

The words left her mouth before she could stop them, and instantly, every pair of eyes turned toward her. She shrank under the weight of their attention, her pulse quickening. She hadn't meant to speak aloud—it just slipped out, like her brain couldn't keep up with the chaos surrounding her.

She swallowed. "Was she... a demon?"

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Then Jacob let out a laugh—low and amused. "May as well be," he replied, folding his arms. "You're close. But no... she's a vampire."

A vampire.

The word hit Evee like a bucket of cold water. Her mouth went dry. Her fingers tightened around the mug in her hands, grounding herself with the heat.

Vampires. As in blood-drinking monsters. As in mythology. As in—not real.

Right?

Her voice trembled as she asked, "And you all are... werewolves?"

She winced at how ridiculous it sounded, even to her. She laughed softly, nervously, unable to believe she was asking such a thing out loud. Yet here she was, sitting in a living room filled with towering, muscled boys who had literally phased into wolves to save her life.

She wasn't hallucinating. It had happened. She'd seen it.

"Told you I was weird," Seth said gently.

His voice was a balm to her fraying nerves. He offered her a small, sheepish grin, hoping to soften the weight of the truth pressing down on her.

And somehow, despite everything—despite the vampires, the near-death experience, and the impossibility of the world she'd just stumbled into—Evee found herself wanting to believe him.

Because if any of it made sense... it was that Seth Clearwater would never let anything hurt her.

"By the way, I'm Embry. I don't think any of us have actually introduced ourselves," Embry pointed out, cutting through the thick silence with his usual tact.

He glanced around the room, eyebrows raised in mild exasperation, clearly expecting the others to follow his lead. Of course, they hadn't. Not yet, at least. It was a subtle but necessary reminder: there was a human girl in the room who had just found out monsters were real—and they hadn't even had the decency to tell her their names.

Embry had always been the most socially aware of the group. He noticed things. Emotions. Gaps in conversation. Awkward silences. He carried a kind of quiet wisdom the others lacked, a maturity that didn't need to shout to be heard. Sam might be the Alpha, but Embry had heart. He was often the glue that kept them grounded, even if no one ever really said it aloud.

Sam had to be the strong one, detached by necessity. Jacob was too immature, always acting before thinking. Paul's temper could ignite a forest fire, Jared was as stubborn as he was reckless, and Quil—well, Quil wouldn't recognize a social cue if it smacked him in the face. Leah was... Leah. Complicated and angry and hurting more than she'd ever admit.

And then there was Seth.

Seth, who felt everything too deeply and couldn't always hold it in. Seth, who had so much empathy it practically spilled out of him. He wasn't like the others—not hardened or jaded. Just young. Too young to carry this much weight. Too young to always know what to do with the storm of emotion boiling inside him. And when that storm overflowed? It didn't pair well with claws and fangs and instincts built for destruction.

"He's right," Jacob spoke up, breaking the silence again with that easygoing bravado of his. "I'm Jacob. And the fatass over there, stuffing his face like he hasn't eaten in a year—that's Quil."

Quil looked up mid-cookie, crumbs trailing down his shirt. He gave Evee an awkward wave with the hand that wasn't occupied by his sugar hoard. "Hey," he said through a mouthful of chocolate chip. Charming as ever.

"I'm Paul," came the casual drawl from the couch, where Paul lounged like he hadn't a care in the world. He didn't even look up as he said it.

"Name's Jared," Jared added, stretching his arms behind his head, clearly unbothered by the chaos they'd all caused.

Sam stayed quiet. He didn't need to introduce himself—he already had when Evee first arrived. Still, he offered her a small, solemn nod, as if to reaffirm his presence now that everything had changed.

That left Leah.

"You already know me," she said flatly, her voice colder than necessary, before turning on her heel and walking off without another word.

Seth inhaled sharply, jaw tightening. That was a low blow, even for Leah. He wanted to say something—no, do something—just march after her and tell her off for being so damn rude. But instead, he stood there, fists clenched at his sides, jaw tight with restraint. It wasn't the time. Not with Evee watching. Not with all eyes on them.

"This is insane," Evee muttered under her breath, the words barely audible.

But they were enough.

Emily let out a quiet chuckle, rising gently to her feet. "You'll get used to it," she said, her voice soft, understanding. "Eventually."

She turned toward Seth, then glanced around the room before gently resting a hand on Evee's shoulder. "But some space would help. I'm going to take her to the guest room. She needs to process all..." She motioned vaguely to the pack, to the tension in the air, to the whirlwind of truth that had shattered Evee's entire sense of reality. "This."

Seth opened his mouth, the protest already forming in his throat. He wanted to talk to her. He needed to explain himself, to make things right. But the look on Emily's face said it all: now wasn't the time.

So instead, he nodded.

It killed him to let her go. But he understood.

She needed space.
And he'd give her anything she needed.

Even if it meant walking away.

Emily always seemed to know best, especially when it came to this kind of discovery. Of course, her experience hadn't involved being chased by a terrifying vampire, only to be thrown—quite literally—into a den of wolves. But Seth held onto hope that Evee would get through this, just like Emily had. With a little time, a lot of questions, and someone patient enough to answer them all. And Seth meant to be that someone. No, not just his best—he would provide for her. Anything she needed, he'd do whatever it took.

"Come on, dear," Emily said softly, holding out her hand.

Evee hesitated for a moment, her fingers curling slowly around Emily's. She still felt fragile, unsure of everything swirling around her. But Emily's gentle confidence was comforting. "It's okay, right this way," Emily assured her, leading her up the stairs.

As they climbed, Evee's eyes drifted to the wall beside them, where an array of paintings and photographs were displayed. She paused in front of a particular piece—a vibrant depiction of La Push Beach, alive with color and movement.

"My mother painted that one," Emily said, noticing Evee's interest.

"It's beautiful," Evee said quietly, offering Emily a tentative smile.

Emily returned the smile warmly, glad to see Evee's guard beginning to lower. They reached the top of the stairs, stepping into a narrow hallway lined with three doors—two on the left and one on the right.

"Here's the guest room," Emily said apologetically as she opened the first door on the left. The room was small but cozy, warm light spilling softly from a lamp on the bedside table. The quiet calm of the space instantly put Evee more at ease.

"It's perfect," Evee said, settling onto the bed.

Her eyes wandered around the room and landed on a cluster of framed family photos hanging on the walls. One in particular caught her attention—a picture of two small children, a boy and a girl, being held by a man she didn't recognize.

"Is that Seth and Leah?" she asked, pointing toward the photo.

Emily nodded, her smile tinged with bittersweet memories. "Yeah, that's them—with their dad, Harry." Her voice softened. "That was Seth's sixth birthday. He was too embarrassed to smile because he was missing his two front teeth, so Leah tickled him until he did." She chuckled softly at the memory.

"They're my cousins," Emily added, her gaze lingering on the photo a moment longer. "But I grew up more like a sister to them."

Her eyes flicked to the hallway outside, and for a split second, a single tear slid down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, hoping Evee hadn't noticed.

But Evee did notice.

Despite the tug of curiosity inside her, she swallowed it down. This was not her story to ask about—not yet. And she didn't want to be rude.

"Anyways, um..." Emily snapped herself back to the present, glancing at Evee with a soft smile. "Do you need anything? I can stay, or I can leave—whichever you prefer."

"I think I'm okay," Evee said, looking around the room before nodding to Emily. "Thank you... for everything."

"Of course." Emily nodded and started toward the door but paused, turning back. Her smile faltered for a moment, and she hesitated before speaking. "I know this is a lot, and they're a lot. But it gets better. They're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Those boys... they truly saved me. So... give them a chance, okay?" She offered one last encouraging smile. "Goodnight." With that, she gently closed the door behind her.

Evee mulled over Emily's words. She was right. But the worry still gnawed at her—what were those boys really capable of? Who was killing the hikers? Were they responsible? Was Seth? Was she truly trapped in a den of killers?

Her mind spun in a relentless circle. Sleep felt impossible, especially since sleep was what had put her in danger to begin with.

She let out a shaky breath. This was going to be a long night of overthinking. But she needed it—the thinking, the unraveling, the slow process of letting her mind wander. Normally, Evee would never allow herself to drift like this, because that's when the bad thoughts came—the visions, the nightmares, the eerie pull of death lurking just beyond her reach.

She hated the visions. She hated the nightmares. She hated the strange, suffocating feeling of death creeping closer.

But right now, her 'ability' was the only thing she could trust. It was the only thing that might tell her if she was in real danger.

She let her head fall onto the pillow and—for once—allowed her mind to race. She closed her eyes.

Nothing.

For once, nothing.

She didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing—only that it was uncertainty.

And Evee hated uncertainty.

             𝓔vee woke up to the sound of chirping birds. She opened her eyes, instantly squinting as the bright rays of sunlight flooded the room. Her gaze landed on a bird's nest just outside the window, watching the tiny birds tweet happily in their little home.

What time was it? Evee wondered, foggy and unsure when she'd actually fallen asleep. It took her a moment before the memories of last night came rushing back — flashing like a chaotic slideshow in her mind.

Evee pushed herself up in bed, resting her head in her hands. "What the hell," she muttered. "This is actually insane... and now I'm talking to myself. Great." She huffed, standing and glancing one last time at the picture of Seth and Leah before leaving the room.

She worried they might still be asleep, but as soon as she opened the door, lively chatter drifted up from downstairs.

Making her way to the living room, Evee felt the house breathe with life, more open and homey now that sunlight poured through every window, casting golden rays on the wooden floors.

She followed the noise toward the kitchen, pushing through the large open doorway — and the once-chatty kitchen instantly fell silent.

All eyes landed on her. Evee wanted nothing more than to disappear into a hole.

Seth's breath hitched at the sight of her — wide-eyed, cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. He understood. She hated being the center of attention.

"Good morning," Seth called softly, standing and walking over to her. Without hesitation, he pulled her into a tight hug.

The chatter slowly picked back up, the awkwardness melting away as normalcy returned to the room.

"I'm glad you're okay," Seth whispered softly in her ear. Evee melted into the hug, squeezing him tightly once before they slowly parted.

"Evee," Emily called out from her spot by the stove, "how do you like your bacon?" The frying pan crackled as she laid out three thick, fat slices of bacon — locally sourced from a nearby farmer. Emily was always big on homegrown food; the healthiest and most reliable, since she knew exactly where it came from.

The savory aroma of bacon filled Evee's senses, and suddenly she realized just how hungry she was.

"Slightly crispy," she answered, scanning the room for a place to sit. Her eyes warmed when she noticed Seth holding out a chair for her.

Evee made her way over and sat down, letting him gently scoot her in under the table.

"Thank you," she said softly, ignoring the butterflies fluttering wildly in her stomach.

"What a gentlemannn~" Jared teased from his spot next to Seth.

Seth retaliated quickly with a swift kick under the table.

"Ow!"

"Boys," Emily called sharply from the kitchen. Both of them immediately stopped their scrapping and turned back to their plates, the room settling into a comfortable calm aga

Sam covered a chuckle pushing at his lips by shoving a bite of eggs into his mouth. He loved it when Emily bossed them around. He leaned casually against the stove beside her, chatting quietly about something Evee couldn't quite catch from across the room.

Around them, at least six different conversations buzzed simultaneously, filling the kitchen with hectic rambling that made Evee's head spin. It reminded her of the lunchroom at school—a place she usually avoided. But, like Emily said, she'd get used to it. And honestly, one look at Seth gave her that confidence.

Seth and Evee made small talk about the night before. At first, Evee thought it would be awkward because of everything that had happened, but it wasn't. She felt comfortable around him. Still, questions lingered, and a quiet part of her feared the unknown... feared what he—or others—might be capable of. She knew deep down Seth would never hurt her, but what about the rest? Her mind kept circling back to the newspaper articles about the missing hikers.

A few minutes passed before Emily placed a steaming hot plate of bacon in front of Evee.

"Thank you," Evee said, picking up a piece and blowing on it before taking a cautious bite.

Suddenly, it dawned on her. Her family would be freaking out right about now.

She swallowed hard. "My family... they'll be worried."

"I already called them," Sam spoke up from his spot in the kitchen.

Evee's brows furrowed in confusion. "They know?"

"Your aunt and uncle do, yes," Sam answered calmly. "The Wallows have always known... about everything."

Evee's heart quickened. "There's more?!" Her mind spun again with all the questions from the night before. What else was real? Was every fairy tale true?

"Much more... but that's for them to tell you. It's not my place," Sam said, glancing knowingly at Seth. Seth immediately looked down, avoiding Sam's eyes.

Evee couldn't help but notice the exchange. It reminded her of wolves she'd seen in a science class documentary back in middle school—how their packs operated with silent cues and respect. She found it fascinating, craving to understand more.

"Seth and Leah will take you home after this," Sam added.

"Can I drive?" Seth asked, his face lighting up with excitement.

"No," came the immediate and unanimous reply from both Leah and Sam.

Seth huffed, slouching down in his chair in defeat. "They just don't like to have fun," he whispered to Evee, a playful lopsided grin tugging at his lips.

Evee couldn't help but melt at the sight of that grin. A warmth bloomed in her chest, making her cheeks flush. "Mhm," she hummed softly, laughing along with him.

The rest of the morning buzzed with chatter and laughter, the room alive with a comfortable, chaotic energy. Evee's earlier discomfort began to fade, replaced by a quiet sense of belonging. The pieces of this strange, wild puzzle weren't falling into place — not really. Maybe they never would. But for the first time, Evee felt okay with that.