Chapter 133 A NEW START
AMBER’S POV
When my mother’s scroll arrived, I was folding laundry on the couch, the kids’ clothes piled higher than mine. Her voice came through the mind link just in time and it was soft, careful, like she didn’t want to scare something fragile.
“Amber,” she said, “bring the children, come see us.”
I sat down without meaning to. It had been a long time since she asked that. Too long, life had gotten heavy, and the road between us felt longer than it really was.
“They miss you,” she added. “Your father too, they’re growing so fast.”
I looked toward the hallway where the kids were arguing about whose turn it was to play a game. Their laughter drifted into the room, warm and loud. My chest tightened, she was right. They hadn’t seen their grandparents in years. Not since things started breaking apart.
“I’ll come,” I said. The words surprised me, but they felt right. “We’ll come.”
She let out a breath, like she’d been holding it in. “Good. We’ll be waiting.”
After the mindlink ended, I stayed there for a while, phone in my hand. Going back meant crossing into old ground. The place that used to be the Spirit pack. The land still held memories, even if the name had faded. I told myself it was safe now and quiet. Just trees and roads and old houses holding onto their past.
That night, I packed slowly. Clothes for the kids, snacks for the drive, old toys they loved. I added a photo album without thinking. The one with pictures of me when I was younger, smiling too wide, unaware of what the world could do.
In the morning, the kids were excited. They talked the whole time, asking questions about grandma’s cooking, about the big trees near the house, about the stream out back.
“Is it far?” my son asked as I buckled him in.
“Not too far,” I said. “We’ll be there before you know it.”
The road stretched out as we left town. Buildings gave way to open land. The air felt different as we drove, cooler somehow. The farther we went, the quieter it got. No wild animals running around, no noise. Just the hum of the horses as they galloped and the sound of my kids’ voices fading into sleep.
As the trees thickened, memories crept in, running through these woods as a girl. My mother’s voice called me home before dark. The pack house stands strong at the center of everything. Back then, it felt like nothing could touch us.
I kept my eyes on the road. I told myself not to think too much. I was just a daughter going home with her kids. Nothing more.
Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the land was watching me as I drove deeper in.
The road narrowed as I got closer. Cracked pavement, weeds pushing through the edges. My parents’ house was still miles away, but I knew this stretch well. Every bend, every tree that leaned too close.
The kids were asleep now, heads tipped to the side, mouths slightly open. I drove slower, careful not to wake them. The quiet felt heavy, like the world was holding its breath.
I passed the old boundary marker without realizing it at first. Just a broken post, half swallowed by vines. My hands tightened on my gown, this was it. The heart of the land that used to belong to the Spirit pack.
I told myself things had changed. The pack was gone and the war was over, nothing lived here anymore but memories and ghosts.
Then the horses wheezed. I jumped, reaching to pet them, but the sound didn’t stop. Static hissed through the air, sharp and loud. I frowned. There hadn’t been any problems for miles.
“Mom?” my daughter murmured from the back seat, half asleep.
“It’s okay,” I said quickly, forcing calm into my voice. “Just noise, go back to sleep.”
The static cut out all at once. Silence rushed in, thick and sudden. I glanced behind me, the road behind me was empty.
I drove on, heart beating faster than it should. That’s when I noticed it, the air ahead looked wrong. Like heat rising off the ground, but it wasn’t hot. The trees on both sides leaned inward, shadows stretching too long.
I slowed down just as a shape moved ahead. Just for a second, too fast to see clearly.
“Probably a deer,” I whispered to myself.
Then the cart jerked as I gasped, gripping the wheel as something slammed down in front of me. I hit the brakes hard. The kids cried out as the carriage skidded to a stop.
My heart was in my throat as I stared through the windshield, someone stood in the road.
Not someone, there were a lot of people.
Figures stepped out from the trees, one by one, blocking the path ahead and behind. I couldn’t see their faces clearly, but I felt them. The weight of their presence pressed against my chest.
My child whimpered in fear even as I looked down, hands shaking.
Who are you?
I opened my mouth to answer, but a sharp knock hit the carriage window. I froze, breath caught in my lungs, as a shadow leaned close
r to the glass.
TAKEN ON ROAD