# Chapter 254:

# Chapter 254:
Melinda's POV

Bob's eyes shone with that brilliant gold, piercing into mine as his message echoed in my head: No one needs to die. You can fight that dark sister without harming anyone.

I felt my breath catch in my throat. How did he—? The sensation of someone rifling through my thoughts faded, leaving me stunned and stammering.

"H-how did you know about—" I started, but Bob cut me off by slapping a wad of cash onto the table. He stood up, adjusting his trucker cap, a faint smile playing at his weathered lips.

"That was a damn good sandwich," he said aloud, as if we'd just been having a normal conversation about the food.

Michael looked at me, confusion evident in his expression. I could see the question in his eyes, wondering what had just passed between Bob and me. My mind was racing. Bob must have powerful abilities—Beta level at least—to be able to read my thoughts like that. And what did he mean, no one needed to die? I'd been planning to sacrifice myself if necessary to stop Selena. Was there another way?

Bob didn't say anything more, just gestured for us to follow him out of the diner. Michael looked at me again, and I gave a slight shake of my head. I didn't want to give Michael some intangible hope that might make our final departure any harder.

Outside, the sun was beginning its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in soft oranges and pinks. Bob's ancient truck seemed to groan in protest as we climbed back in, the bench seat creaking under our weight.

As we pulled onto the highway, my mind kept returning to Bob's words. No one needs to die. What did that mean? How could I possibly stop Selena without violence? She was both witch and werewolf now, her powers multiplied by dark rituals. And who was this Luna person everyone kept mentioning?

I could ask Bob squarely, but he didn't seem to be willing to talk more. So what was the point?

The steady rhythm of the truck's engine and the gentle rocking motion as we hit small bumps in the road began to lull me into a state of relaxation. I hadn't realized how exhausted I was. Between escaping from Selena, burying Richard, and portal-jumping across territories, I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a proper rest.

I glanced over at Michael and saw his head nodding slightly, his eyes growing heavy. He seemed to be fighting sleep too. Bob kept his eyes on the road, not breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between us.

Feeling safe for the first time in days, I allowed my head to rest against Michael's shoulder. His familiar scent—pine and something uniquely him—enveloped me, and before I knew it, my eyes had closed completely.

The next thing I knew, the truck was pulling to a stop on a gravel shoulder. The abrupt change in motion and the crunch of stones beneath the tires jarred me awake. I lifted my head from Michael's shoulder, blinking away the fog of sleep.

"Mmm?" Michael mumbled, his eyes snapping open as he came alert much faster than I did.

We'd left the highway, returning to a rural road flanked by tall pine trees. The air was cooler now, and a thin mist had gathered along the ground, creating an eerie yet peaceful atmosphere. I couldn't see any sign of the Alpha King's mansion.

"Where are we?" I asked, peering out the window.

Bob sighed, his hands still on the wheel. "Sorry... this is as far as I'm willing to take you."

Michael frowned. "How far are we from the mansion?"

"About an hour's walk that way," Bob said, gesturing down the road. "I need to get back before dark. I won't go any closer."

I checked the dashboard clock. It was late afternoon. We'd be walking through the woods in darkness if we didn't hurry.

"Thank you, Bob... we really appreciate your help," I said sincerely.

Michael reached for his wallet, pulling out some bills. "Let me give you something for gas. And the food."

Bob laughed, waving away the money. "Keep your cash... just... get it done."

I noticed something shift in his expression. The gold faded from his eyes, revealing tired eyes beneath. His face seemed to age before me, weariness and sadness etched into every line. I understood—he wanted us to stop Selena and Luna, because people like him were suffering.

I nodded, reaching over to squeeze his rough hand briefly. A ghost of a smile touched his lips.

"We'll try," I promised.

Michael and I climbed out of the truck, grabbing our backpack with the water and snacks. Bob gave us a final nod before pulling away, the truck disappearing around a bend in the road.

We started walking, hand in hand, as if both afraid to let go and lose each other again. I desperately wanted to believe Bob was right—that there was a way to stop Selena without anyone dying. Without me dying. But I still had no idea who this Luna was.

"So..." I ventured after a few minutes of walking, "who is Luna? I've never heard of her before."

Michael's grip tightened slightly on my hand. "That's not her name... it's a title. It means Queen, basically."

I processed this information, connecting dots in my head. "So, this Luna... do you think she's working with Selena?"

"I don't know," Michael admitted. "I've never heard anything bad about Luna. But..." he hesitated, "I grew up privileged. I never saw what Bob described."

Luna must be my stepmother, I realized with a chill. The Alpha King's wife. And she's been awful to the lower classes. The implications were staggering. If Luna was manipulating the Alpha King and working with Selena, we were facing something much worse than I'd imagined.

I was about to share my theory with Michael when my heart suddenly lurched in my chest. My pulse quickened, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Michael was starting to say something when I looked around wildly, scanning the darkening forest.

"Melinda? Are you okay—"

"Shh." I held up my hand, stopping him mid-sentence.

I couldn't explain it—wasn't sure if it was some sixth sense or pure instinct—but something was wrong. Something was coming.

"There's something out there," I whispered.

Michael looked confused, but I didn't wait for him to understand. I grabbed his hand and pulled him off the road, down into a shallow ditch and behind a fallen pine tree. We crouched low, my heart hammering in my chest.

I didn't know why I was so certain of danger—I couldn't smell anything unusual like Michael could with his wolf senses, couldn't hear anything suspicious—but every cell in my body was screaming at me to hide.

Seconds later, Michael's eyes widened. He sniffed the air, and I saw his eyes begin to glow red.

A moment after that, they appeared—at least six or seven of them. Stray werewolves, led by one massive beast that stopped right where we had been standing moments before, sniffing the ground with disturbing intensity.

Michael and I locked eyes. Run or fight? With no antidote and no wolf form to help me, I doubted we stood much chance. The leader of the Strays was enormous, nearly as big as Michael, and there was something different about him.

Unlike the typical Stray—a feral, mindless creature—this one seemed more deliberate in his movements. His eyes glowed orange, not the usual muddy yellow, and they seemed too intelligent, too alert. He didn't have the disorganized behavior of most Strays.

Michael slowly placed his hand over mine and nodded toward the opposite direction.

We needed to run.

I nodded back, ready for a heart-pounding chase through the darkening forest.