Chapter 19

Chapter 19
Shadows and Fangs

Claire's POV

The dirt clawed at my ankles like icy fingers, dragging me back, slowing me down. My breath came out in ragged puffs, in the midnight air.

Branches tore at my jacket—his jacket—and every heartbeat sounded like thunder in my ears.

They were close.

Too close.

It was obvious Mirabel knew something like this was going to happen, that's why she didn't waste time to choose this trial.

A low snarl echoed behind me, followed by the crunch of paws on snow. My lungs burned, legs screaming with each step, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

They were rogue wolves—feral and merciless. And I was the night’s prey.

I vaulted over a fallen log, landing hard, slipping on the ground. My knees hit the floor, pain flaring up my thighs. I scrambled to my feet, but one of them was already on me. A massive russet wolf tackled me from behind, slamming me into the ground.

I cried out, twisting as claws raked across my arm. My wolf surged, bones cracking, skin splitting into half transformation.

A second later, I was no longer Claire the girl—I was Claire the cursed wolf, poison lacing my claws, my fangs dripping with death.

I slashed at the rogue’s side, felt the hiss of venom burn his fur. He howled and stumbled back. I didn't wait. I spun, catching another one across the jaw with a venom-tipped swipe. He dropped, convulsing.

“Get the hell away from me.” I yelled as I bared my fangs at the fallen wolf. I was about to attack again but the third one caught me.

They had seen too much and have gotten the chance to attack my blind spot.

His teeth sank into my shoulder, a deep, crushing bite. I screamed—part wolf, part human—as pain shot through me like wildfire.

I twisted violently, ripping myself free, black spots dotting my vision. Blood splattered across the ground, so red it looked wrong beneath the moonlight.

Shit. I need to get out of here as fast as possible or it could mean the end of me.

I can’t die here. Not like this. I still had alot of things I needed to do. A mate to go back to even if he doesn't want me.

Then, like a whisper carried by the wind, I heard him.

"Fight, Claire."

Blake’s voice.

Was it my imagination? I couldn't tell but hearing his voice was like a big comfort for me.

I froze, blinking, my legs wobbling beneath me. The rogues hesitated, too, confused by my stillness. I could hear his voice—not like a memory, but present. Urgent. Close.

"Fight, Claire."

That voice had once been my salvation. My undoing. My curse.

It came again. I didn't need to be told twice before my legs started moving again.

I turned and ran again, stumbling blindly through the trees. The night blurred everything. Blood loss made the world tilt. But I ran.

I could barely hear the rogues chasing. All I heard was the wind roaring I'm my ears as I ran without pause.

Until I saw it.

A crooked wooden post, half-buried in snow, scarred with claw marks. Faded initials still visible if you looked close enough. B.C.

Blake Caesar.

My knees buckled as I crashed beside it, coughing, blood seeping through my torn jacket. I dragged myself upright, my fingers brushing the rough wood like it was a lifeline.

Being here meant I was safe for a while. The rogues won't be able to enter because it's pack territory.

This was his old training spot. He brought me here the day he first arrived in Crystal Falls—when I was nothing but a bruised, broken girl being dragged by Dylan into rejection.

The thought of that night had my skin crawling with revulsion at the mere idea that fate could play such a cruel joke.

Of all people to make my mate, Dylan was the last person I could ever imagine myself with.

Goddess. I still remembered Dylan’s breath on my neck, the way he’d slammed his brute force into me. The way he pummeled his fists into me in his room so that he could weaken me enough to have his way with me.

Fates, if not for any other thing, I should survive so that I could have my revenge on that evil bastard.

Said he’d mark me just to reject me for fun. Said I was filth.

But Blake had walked in then. Just... appeared. A stranger with storms in his eyes.

“I’ll take her,” he’d said, voice cold, final. “She’s mine.”

He didn’t even look at Dylan. He looked at me—like I was something worth protecting. His jacket had still smelled like rain then.

And now here I was. Drenched in blood. Dying. Clinging to the memory of a man who’d claimed me like a storm and left me like silence.

I touched the post again, pressing my forehead against it, trying to stay awake. I had to survive the night. That was the test.

But I wasn’t sure I had anything left to give. This was more dangerous than I thought.

A crunch echoed in the distance.

I stiffened.

Not wolves.

This sound was different. Heavy. Slow. Controlled.

A shadow passed between the trees—massive, silent, and wrong.

I pushed up to my knees, my limbs trembling. The wind carried a scent that curled around my throat like a vice. It wasn’t pack. It wasn’t rogue. It wasn’t Blake.

It was something else.

Dirt shifted.

And then it stepped out.

A wolf—but not like any wolf I’d ever seen. It towered over the trees, darker than shadow, fur so black it swallowed the moonlight. Its fangs dripped... violet.

Not blood. Violet.

My breath caught.

Its eyes locked on mine. And I felt it—cold, ancient power that slithered across my skin, whispering things I didn’t want to hear.

It tilted its head like it recognized me.

And then it smiled.

I stumbled backward, hitting the training post with a thud.

“What the hell are you?” I whispered.

The wolf stepped forward.

And its form... shifted.

It wasn’t just a beast.

It was something else entirely.

Something that shouldn’t exist.

And it knew my name.

“Claire,” it rasped, in a voice like bones cracking beneath ice.

The ground tilted.

The snow around its paws melted.

I wanted to scream.

But all I could do was watch as the impossible wolf stalked toward me—fangs glowing, shadow stretching—and whispered again.

“Claire.”