Chapter 2

Charlotte pov

Silver Falls was gone within the hour, treeline and porch lights swallowed by the dark behind us.

I rolled my sleeve up and angled my arm toward the window. There, faint and silver, a mark curled just under my skin, there and then not there, like it knew I was looking for it and didn't want to be caught.

"Did you see that?" I asked the driver.

"See what, miss?"

"Never mind." I pulled my sleeve back down, my heart going too fast to explain any of it out loud.

The locket warmed against my collarbone, a small steady heat that didn't match the cold outside. I wrapped my fingers around it and closed my eyes, and for one dizzy second I swore I heard humming, low and wordless, like a lullaby meant to keep a child quiet.

Sleep, something whispered. You're safe until sundown tomorrow.

"Safe from what?" I whispered back.

Nothing answered.

"You said something," I tried again, leaning toward the front seat. "Just now. I heard you."

"I haven't said a word since we crossed the county line, miss." The driver's eyes flicked to the mirror, and for a second I thought I saw something careful in them, like a man choosing not to ask a question of his own. "Best try to rest. Long drive yet."

I didn't sleep. I thought about Mom's face when she'd seen that crest. I thought about the word found instead of had. I thought about how much of my own life I apparently didn't know the first thing about, and how strange it was that a stranger's silence could feel more honest than nineteen years of my mother's.

The driver hadn't spoken since we left Silver Falls, and I was grateful for that, because I had no idea what I would have told him anyway. Every question I could think to ask sounded ridiculous out loud. Did my mother lie to me my whole life. Is there a wolf sleeping under my skin. Why does a stolen piece of jewelry feel warmer than my own hands.

Somewhere past midnight, exhaustion started pulling at the edges of my thoughts, and I let my forehead rest against the cool glass, watching trees blur into a single dark ribbon.

Then the driver's hands tightened on the wheel.

"Miss. You'll want to sit back."

"Why?"

Headlights swept the road ahead. A black SUV sat parked sideways across both lanes, blocking us completely, and five silhouettes stood in front of it, unbothered by the cold, unbothered by anything at all.

The car jerked to a stop. My seatbelt caught me hard across the chest. For one panicked second all I could think was rogues, the kind of story parents told pups to keep them close to pack lands.

"Stay inside," the driver ordered, already reaching for the door handle, his voice gone flat and careful. "This isn't normal traffic."

He climbed out. I watched through the windshield as one of the shapes stepped forward into the headlights, tall, broad shouldered, moving like he owned the road he'd just blocked.

"This is Academy property," my driver called out. "You need to move your vehicle."

The tall one smiled, easy and confident, like he'd been told no a thousand times and never once believed it applied to him.

"We're not here for you," he replied. "We're here for her."

He pointed straight through the windshield.

At me.

My stomach dropped. Some reckless part of me, the same part that had walked across a crowded dining hall to take a letter nobody thought was mine, wanted to know what it was.

"I need you to identify yourselves," the driver called, tighter now. "This vehicle is under Academy transport protection."

"We know exactly what it's carrying," the tall one countered, unbothered. "That's the entire point."

I unbuckled my seatbelt.