𐂂

.𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢𝐢.
𝒖𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕

The Forest.
La Push, WA.
April

𝓣he night was cold, wet, and brumous. A damp fog lingered low to the earth like a forgotten breath, thick and unmoving. Rain had come and gone hours ago, but the forest still carried the scent of wet moss and pine sap, heavy and cloying. Above, the moon was a milky coin behind the cloud cover, casting only a faint silver sheen between the trees. The whisper of the wind wound its way through the towering pines, tugging at branches and hissing warnings through the needles.

It was that sound that stirred Evangeline Wallows.

She came to with a sharp inhale, the kind that split her chest open with panic. Her small frame curled instinctively tighter into itself, her cheek pressed to damp earth, fingers curled around clumps of loam and moss. Her dark lashes fluttered open, pupils dilated wide as her gaze snapped to the shadowed branches above. The sky was unfamiliar. So were the trees. She blinked, disoriented. The realization hit her all at once like ice water dumped down her back.

Not again.

No. No no no no...

Evangeline scrambled upright, her limbs stiff and trembling, her breath quickening into uneven gasps. Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would burst through her ribs. The air was sharp and bitter on her tongue, and the cold gnawed through her skin.

"I thought this was over," she whispered into the night, her voice cracking. Her bottom lip quivered as tears stung her eyes—hot, sudden, unwelcome. "I haven't done this in years..." Her voice fell to a whisper, raw with frustration.

She remembered the last time. She remembered the death, the blood, the screaming. The visions that haunted her, waking or asleep. She had called it a curse. The cruel side effect of losing everything. Her parents. Her home. Her sense of peace.

Forks was supposed to be her new beginning.

She hadn't had a vision or one of her strange nighttime wanderings since she arrived. It had been quiet. Still. Safe. But now, standing barefoot in the middle of the forest with the trees looming like sentinels and the earth cold beneath her, she knew that peace had been borrowed, not earned. And it was expiring.

She sucked in a shaky breath, arms wrapping tightly around herself as she began picking her way back through the trees, the pine needles prickling the soles of her bare feet, dirt oozing between her toes. Her cotton tank top clung to her skin, soaked through with dew, and her pajama shorts provided little protection from the biting wind. Every rustle, every shifting shadow had her flinching.

And then—movement. Fast. Too fast.

The brush behind her shifted with a violent rustle, branches whipping back into place with a snap. Evee froze, her breath catching in her throat. She turned slowly, eyes darting toward the dark foliage.

"Hello?" she called out, voice small. "Is someone there?"

Silence. For a moment, it was so quiet she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. Then—whoosh. To her left.

Her head jerked toward the sound, and the panic finally spilled over. "I—I don't want any trouble!" she cried out, taking a step back.

The forest exhaled around her, still and cold.

And then she fell from the trees.

A woman, or at least, something in the shape of a woman, landed directly in front of Evee with a predatory grace. Her arrival was silent save for the soft thud of her boots hitting the damp ground. Her limbs unfolded like silk, slow and deliberate.

Evee's scream tore from her throat as she stumbled back, falling hard onto the earth, her palms scraping against rock and bark. She stared up, wide-eyed and breathless, at the figure above her.

The woman smiled.

"Shhh~ shhh. It'll be all over soon," she purred, voice syrupy and cruel. It slithered through the air, deceptively soothing, the way one might comfort a child before the knife.

Her eyes glowed like garnets, red and unnatural, burning with a cold hunger. Her hair was a violent tangle of crimson curls that swayed around her pale shoulders, thick like fire and wild as the storm. The moonlight kissed her skin like glass—glimmering, glistening. She shimmered with an unearthly beauty that struck Evee dumb. Every instinct told her to run, to scream again, but her body was paralyzed beneath the woman's gaze.

Evangeline had never seen anything more beautiful. Or more deadly.

She wanted to cry, to disappear, to wake up safe in her bed and forget this ever happened.

But this wasn't a nightmare.

This was real.

And it was just beginning.

Evangeline felt like she was face to face with the devil.

The woman's glowing crimson eyes seemed to pierce straight through her, sharp as daggers, impossibly beautiful and utterly inhuman. Her very presence drained the warmth from the forest, like a blight. Evee's heart thrashed in her chest, every thump screaming run, run, run. She could feel the blood pounding in her ears, a primal drumbeat of survival.

She began to scoot backward through the damp moss and leaves, breath shallow and ragged, before scrambling to her feet in a burst of terrified energy. Her knees nearly buckled beneath her, but she didn't stop.

"Don't run," the woman said smoothly, her tone somewhere between amusement and boredom. Like she was offering advice she already knew would be ignored.

Evangeline didn't listen. Of course she didn't.

She gasped, forcing her legs to move, and took off—her feet slipping against the cold earth, twigs snapping beneath her. The wind whipped her hair into her eyes, stinging her skin. Her tank top clung to her like a second skin, soaked and freezing, and her bare arms burned from the cold air slicing through them.

"Mmm," the woman murmured, her voice drifting like smoke. "Fast food."

With terrifying speed, she vanished upward into the trees, no more than a blur of red curls and moonlight.

Evangeline sprinted through the woods, the darkness now alive with unseen threats. Branches clawed at her arms and legs like fingers trying to pull her back. Her lungs were on fire, each breath a jagged cut through her throat. Her vision blurred with tears, and every heartbeat felt like the last.

"Help!" she screamed, voice cracking, chest heaving. "Someone—please!"

And then, like some cruel mirage through the haze of panic, something emerged from the shadows.

A large, fast-moving blur.

It was Seth.

"Seth!" she gasped, the name tumbling from her mouth like a lifeline. She couldn't believe it—couldn't process how he had found her, how he was here. A sudden wave of relief washed over her, shaking her to the core.

But that relief shattered in an instant.

"No!" she screamed, voice raw with desperation. "Seth, run!"

She stumbled to a halt, her body twisted in panic. Her legs wanted to keep moving, but she turned just in time to see him rush past her—not away from the danger, but straight toward it.

"Seth?!" she choked out, voice trembling.

The woman landed from the trees with a predatory grace, her lips curled into a wicked grin.

But she didn't have time to enjoy it.

Because Seth Clearwater—sweet, loyal, smiling Seth—was no longer the boy she knew.

With a sudden shimmer in the air, his body shifted mid-run, rippling and stretching with impossible speed. Bones cracked, fur erupted, and where once there had been a boy, now stood a massive, tan-furred wolf. Powerful and fast. Wild.

The wolf launched himself at the woman, his snarl splitting through the silence like thunder. His jaws found her hair, teeth sinking deep and ripping backward with savage force. The woman shrieked, her melodic voice twisting into something inhuman and feral as a clump of her fiery curls tore from her scalp.

She backflipped away, landing in a crouch, seething with rage—but only for a second.

She looked at Seth—no, the wolf—and seemed to reconsider.

With a frustrated hiss, she turned and vanished, darting back into the trees with vampiric speed—gone as fast as she had come.

Evangeline stood frozen, staring in disbelief, her entire body trembling. The cold no longer mattered. Neither did the blood on her hands, or the sting in her throat.

Because everything she thought she knew had just shifted beneath her feet.

And the boy she had barely begun to understand...

...was no longer just a boy.

The large wolf lowered his head, spitting out the clump of red curls tangled between his teeth. He lapped at his muzzle, flicking his tongue out again and again in distaste, trying to get rid of the coppery remnants of the vampire's hair. He hated the taste of them. Cold. Empty. Wrong.

Then, tilting his head skyward, he let out a long, echoing howl—low and full of warning. The sound fractured the silence, reverberating through the trees like a call only the wild would answer. When he finished, his golden gaze dropped back down, pinning Evangeline where she stood.

Every instinct screamed at Seth to rush to her, to nudge her, lick her face, feel her pulse with his muzzle just to be sure she was okay. But something stronger than instinct kept him frozen—someone was holding him still.

'Wait. Let her breathe. Don't frighten her more.' The silent command from Sam rippled through the invisible thread that tied the pack together.

Seth stayed where he was, paws sinking slightly into the forest floor, muscles taut. His heart ached to go to her, but he didn't move.

Evangeline was sure she was going to die.

Even now, after everything, her legs wouldn't move. Her body screamed retreat, but her muscles locked tight as if betraying her fear aloud. Her gaze stayed locked on the wolf in front of her—massive and real and impossible. He looked like something torn from a nightmare and stitched together with fragments of beauty.

His fur was a sandy, sun-washed color, with threads of ash and stone blending into the edges like shadows cast at dusk. His body easily reached the height of a small horse. But it was his eyes that shattered her ability to breathe—amber, molten, intelligent. Too human.

Beautiful.

Terrifying.

She stumbled back, choking on a sob. Tears fell freely now, hot against her cheeks despite the cold. Her back struck the rough bark of a tree, scraping her skin raw as she pressed herself into it, as if she could disappear entirely.

The wolf stepped forward.

Leaves crunched under his weight, the noise sharp and deliberate in the otherwise frozen clearing. Evee flinched hard, curling tighter against the tree, every nerve alive with panic. Her whole world had ruptured in minutes—there was no space for calm now, only chaos.

And yet... the wolf didn't attack.

He didn't growl or bare his teeth. He just stared. Watching her. Waiting for something.

The silence dragged on, thick and humming. And then, at the edge of the clearing, something moved.

Two more wolves emerged from the trees, their massive forms casting long shadows in the silver-blue moonlight. They were even larger than the one she now recognized as Seth. One was charcoal-grey, the markings around his eyes ghostly pale. The other was russet brown, with eyes like the forest floor after rain—deep and unreadable.

Between them walked a man.

Tall. Solid. His skin was dark and warm-toned, his black hair cropped close. He moved slowly, deliberately, hands raised in surrender.

"Hey," he said gently, voice deep and calming. "Shhh. It's okay."

Evangeline didn't respond. Couldn't. Her mouth had gone dry, her breath ragged. Her wide, wet eyes tracked him like prey, her chest rising and falling with every fractured inhale.

"I'm Sam," he offered, stopping a good ten feet away. "You're safe now."

The smaller, sandy-furred wolf—Seth—walked forward again, his body low but calm. He nipped gently at something in Sam's hand, tugging until Sam released it.

Cargo shorts.

The wolf took them in his mouth and trotted behind the russet wolf, disappearing into the shadows. The other two stood as still as statues, watching without a word.

There was a tight tension in the air, and then—

Seth stepped out, barefoot and flushed, pulling on the shorts quickly. His face was pale beneath his freckles, his shoulders hunched in anxiety. He looked to the russet wolf, fear etched into every line of his body.

"This is gonna be okay, right, Jake?" The whisper spilled from him, raw and trembling.

The russet wolf pressed his large head into Seth's arm, grounding him with a firm, silent reassurance.

Seth swallowed hard.

Evangeline was still locked in place, barely breathing. Her eyes darted between the wolves and the man, her brain screaming that none of this made sense—that this couldn't be real.

And then she heard his voice.

"Evee?"

Her head snapped up.

He stepped out from behind the wolf slowly, hands up, like he was afraid she might run. "We won't hurt you."

The words floated through her, soft but firm. Her gaze locked onto his—wide amber eyes searching hers with such deep, desperate concern it stole her breath.

He stopped next to Sam and looked to him, as if asking permission. Sam gave a small nod.

In an instant, Seth was moving—closing the distance in a single heartbeat. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a hug so tight it stole the air from her lungs.

The floodgates shattered.

Evangeline crumpled against him, her entire body shaking with sobs. Her fists gripped his bare back like she was afraid he might vanish.

"Hey, hey, hey," Seth whispered into her hair, rocking her gently. "It's okay. You're okay. I've got you. Let me take you somewhere safe."

He didn't wait for her to respond—just cradled her, protective and careful, as they began walking.

The walk to Sam and Emily's place was a short one. That was one of the perks of La Push—everything was within walking distance.

But to Seth, La Push had more than just a few perks. To him, it had a million.

Jacob constantly complained about it, Quil always wished there was more to do, and Leah never stopped talking about how badly she wanted to get out. But not Seth.

Seth loved La Push. The rez was all he had ever known. It was home.

Yes, part of him was curious about the world beyond the cliffs and the woods—about everything he hadn't yet seen—but the other part of him, the bigger part, was fiercely loyal to the land that raised him. The thought of leaving filled him with dread.

He was a boy constantly at war in his own head, clawing his way through life with fear of both the known and the unknown.

That was... until he met her.

Now Seth knew. He would go where she went.

But that didn't make things clearer. If anything, the line between the known and the unknown had only blurred further—because now, he had her.

And he knew he could never lose her.

Seth didn't know what it was like not to have her anymore. And now that he had known her—even for just a short time—he understood something terrifying.

He couldn't live without her.

The thought alone shook him. The image of her lying there, Victoria's red curls slipping from his mouth, her blood on the ground... It made him shudder. Just the idea of what could've happened—what almost happened—made his stomach twist and his breath hitch. He couldn't think about it. He couldn't let himself go there.

"Seth, come on."

Sam's low voice pulled him from the spiral in his mind. Seth blinked, the cold night air grounding him. He was grateful for the interruption—Sam always seemed to know when to pull him back.

Seth looked up and realized they were already at the house. His gaze shifted to Evee, walking quietly beside him. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, as if trying to shield herself from everything—the cold, the wolves, the truth.

She glanced at the two massive wolves that trailed behind them, still clearly unsure about their presence. Seth watched her eyes flick back and forth, uncertain and afraid.

Sam didn't say a word, but somehow conveyed everything with just a look. The wolves understood immediately. They nodded—just once—before trotting off behind the house to phase back and get dressed.

Sam climbed the stairs to his porch and pushed open the front door. The house was dark, quiet. Emily must've been fast asleep—understandable, given the hour.

What time was it?

Seth realized with a jolt that he had no idea how he'd even ended up in the woods. Everything was a blur. One moment he'd been asleep, and the next—he felt her in danger. Then he was there.

That was all he remembered of the last hour.

Somehow, Sam had known too. Maybe it was some kind of primal Alpha thing. Maybe it was something else entirely. Seth didn't know.

And honestly?

Neither did Sam.

Or how Jacob and Embry were somehow already halfway to Sam's before he even called. Or how Quil, Jared, and Paul were already off chasing away Victoria.

They were all just connected somehow. In every single way.

Sam flicked the lights on, his eyes immediately landing on Seth and the girl in his arms.

"Take her to the living room," he said quietly. "I'm gonna wake up Emily."

Seth nodded and followed his instructions. The kitchen light spilled just enough glow into the adjacent room to guide his steps—not that he needed it. Night vision had its perks.

He gently laid her down on the couch. She looked like a ghost—pale as snow, her eyes distant and unfocused, as if her body had returned but her mind was still trapped in the woods. She hadn't spoken a word the entire walk back, too deep in shock to even process what had happened.

Seth's stomach twisted. He hated seeing her like this. Hated that she had gone through something so terrifying. Hated that he couldn't protect her from it.

He swallowed hard, pushing back the lump in his throat. Slowly, he rose to his feet, beginning to turn away, unsure of what to do next.

"Wait—"

The voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but it stopped him cold.

Evangeline Wallows.

Her voice.

"Stay."

Seth froze in the doorway. He looked back at her, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. Her eyes had found his, tired and scared but steady. She slowly pushed herself upright on the couch, no longer willing to lie down. It made her feel too exposed.

He stepped back toward her. But the second he got close, she instinctively leaned away.

Seth's heart sank.

She was scared of him.

He stopped in his tracks, guilt flashing across his face. She opened her mouth to say something, then hesitated. Her eyes flicked around the room, scanning the shadows as if trying to find the right words.

Finally, she looked back at him. Her voice was cautious. Fragile.

"Seth... w-what are you?"

Seth inhaled sharply, the sound shaky and shallow as he instinctively took a step back, creating space between them. If space was what she needed, he'd give it. If she needed distance, silence, answers—anything—he would give it. He would obey any demand, shoulder any weight, suffer any pain if it meant she felt safe.

His hands slipped into his pockets, fingers curling tightly in the fabric as he looked down at the floor like it might suddenly split open and do him the favor of swallowing him whole. The guilt clung to him like humidity, thick and suffocating. How was he supposed to explain any of this? How could he put something so insane into words? He was seventeen and could turn into a wolf. That was beyond strange—it was terrifying. He knew how it sounded. He knew how it looked. What if she couldn't handle it? What if she ran? What if she looked at him with fear in her eyes the same way she just had, but never stopped?

What if she left?

The thought lodged in his throat like glass.

Just then, Emily appeared, rushing into the living room, her face etched with worry and sleep still clinging to her eyes. "Hello," she said gently, her voice soft but alert.

Seth didn't wait. Her presence was his escape, a lifeline he didn't have to justify. He slipped past her without a word, his movements stiff and clumsy as he moved into the kitchen, then pushed open the front door. The cold air hit him like a slap, sharp and sobering, but instead of calming him, it knocked the wind right out of him.