LUNAR RECKONING

At the point when I stepped off the bus in Silverthorn, the actual air felt unique - thicker, some way or another, like it conveyed mysteries I wasn't prepared to hear. My suitcase, battered and scraped from long years of overuse, was the main natural thing I had left. All the other things - the towering skyline merging with sprawling forests, the murmur of a breeze that felt excessively intimate- was unsetting.

I grasped the handle of my suitcase and began down the broken sidewalk. My destination was clear: the house my auntie had left me in her will. The house she had never referenced before her strange demise.

The Uber driver would not take me the whole way there. "Excessively near the forest," he mumbled, eyes shooting to the dim stretch of trees. "Local people keep away from that spot."

I didn't have the energy to argue, so I strolled the last half mile. When I arrived at the house, the sun was plunging beneath the skyline, creating long shaded areas that caused the woods to appear to be alive. The actual house was frightfully gorgeous, a Victorian monstrosity that looked like it had secrets buried in its walls. My stomach beat, however I was unable to say why.

The key turned in the lock with a delightful click. The entryway squeaked open, uncovering a faintly lit entrance that smelled faintly of cedar and something metallic.

"Ah, back home again," I murmured, stepping inside. The words felt hollow, even to me.

I went through the following hour investigating the house, attempting to shake the sensation of being watched. Each squeak of the sections of flooring under my feet took my heartbeat leap. The rooms were faultless but cold, as though nobody had lived here in years. A monstrous representation of my auntie hung in the front room, her sharp green eyes following me any place I went.

The pull toward the timberland started as a murmur in the back of my mind. From the beginning, I disregarded it, zeroing in on unloading the fundamentals. In any case, the sensation developed further, perplexing me until I wound up remaining at the secondary passage staring out at the dark expanse of trees.

"You don't have a place there," I told myself solidly, holding the edge of the counter to steady my nerves. Be that as it may, even as I said it, my feet tingled to move, to step outside and let the cool air fold over me.

It was only after night had completely settled that I heard the thump. Three sharp raps on the weighty oak entryway. My breath caught, and I froze, heart beating in my chest. Nobody realized I was here -at least, no one should have.

I opened the door carefully, my hand shuddered on the handle. Remaining there was a man who appeared to have a place with the actual shadows. He was tall, with wide shoulders and a stance that shouted power. His dim eyes stuck me set up, and his facial structure appeared as though it could cut glass.

"Evelyn Hawke?" His voice was profound, a low thunder that sent a shudder down my spine.

"Yes," I said, forcing the word out past the lump in my throat.

He didn't grin. All things considered, his look cleared over me, evaluating, ascertaining. "You're late."

"Excuse me?" I squinted, confused.

"You should've arrived days ago." He stepped past me without waiting for an invitation, the scent of pine and smoke trailing after him. "The pack has been waiting."

"The... pack?" I shut the door and turned to face him, feeling the first sparks of anger ignite. "I don't know who you think you are, but-"

"I'm Grayson Nightshade," he said, his tone as cold as his expression. "Alpha of the Silverthorn Pack. And whether you like it or not, you're one of us now."

The room felt smaller with him in it, his presence overwhelming. "There's been a mistake," I said, crossing my arms. "I'm not part of any pack. I'm not even sure why I'm here."

"You're here because your aunt was one of us," he said bluntly. "And now, so are you."

My stomach flipped. "That's impossible. My aunt-"

"-was a Wolf-blood," he interrupted. "Part human, part wolf. Just like you."

The words hung in the air, heavy and impossible. I laughed, the sound high-pitched and shaky. "You've got the wrong person. I'm just... me."

Grayson's eyes narrowed. "Do you think you would have been left this house if you were just 'you'?"

I opened my mouth to argue but stopped when he stepped closer. The intensity in his gaze was unnerving, like he could see right through me.

"You've felt it, haven't you?" he asked quietly. "The pull of the forest. The way it calls to you."

My breath hitched. "That doesn't mean anything."

"It means everything," he said. "You belong to this world, Evelyn, whether you want to or not."

I shook my head, stepping back until my shoulders hit the wall. "This is insane. You can't just show up and tell me I'm part of some... some werewolf pack."

His lips twitched, though it wasn't quite a smile. "You're not part of the pack yet. But you will be."

"And what if I don't want to be?" My voice was steadier now, my anger burning away some of the fear.

Grayson's expression darkened. "You don't have a choice. The Lunar Council will demand your allegiance, and they won't take no for an answer."

"Lunar Council?" I echoed, the words foreign and heavy on my tongue.

"An ancient group that governs our kind," he explained, though his tone suggested he didn't enjoy answering questions. "They've been waiting for you."

"Why?"

His jaw tightened. "Because you're important to them. To us. You have a power that hasn't been seen in centuries."

I stared at him, the weight of his words pressing down on me like a physical force. "I don't have any powers," I whispered.

"You will," he said simply. "And when they surface, the whole world will know it."

The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken truths. I wanted to laugh, to scream, to run. But part of me-a small, treacherous part-believed him.

Grayson's eyes softened, just barely. "Your aunt kept you hidden for a reason. She knew this day would come, and she tried to protect you."

"Protect me from what?" I demanded, my voice rising.

"From yourself," he said. "And from the people who will come for you when they realize what you are."

---Before I could answer, a low snarl reverberated from the forest. My blood ran cold, and I naturally stepped nearer to Grayson.

"We're not alone," he muttered, his body tense.

"What's out there?" I asked, my voice scarcely a murmur.

"Inconvenience," he said, his look fixed on the trees. "Remain inside. Lock the entryways."

"Yet, - "

"No contentions," he snapped, already heading for the door. He paused with his hand on the handle, glancing back at me. "We'll talk all the more tomorrow. Until further notice, do as I say."

And afterward he was gone, disappearing into the night like a shadow.

I remained there for what felt like an unending length of time, gazing at the entryway. The snarl actually reverberated in my ears, and the house out of nowhere felt too huge, excessively unfilled. At the point when I at last moved, it was to lock each entryway and window I could find.

However, even that didn't stop the inclination. That feeling of being watched, of something - or somebody - hiding just past the edges of the light.

I sank onto the sofa, folding my arms over my knees. My auntie's picture lingered above me, her green eyes practically gleaming in the faint light.

"What did you get me into?" I murmured. Be that as it may, the room offered no responses, just quietness.

The next morning, I found the first claw marks on the back door.