31_ Savior

"Who are you?"

I never thought I’d witness something like this. Hannah standing there, her posture stiff yet oddly confident.

“I was going to ask the same question,” Hannah said, her voice measured, almost contemplative. “But I think I already know the answer now.”

Confusion swirled in my chest like a storm. “What do you mean?” I asked, my voice edged with frustration.

Hannah tilted her head slightly, her gaze unwavering. “I wasn’t sure before,” she admitted. “But after what I witnessed in the bathroom, I’m sure now.”

“Sure about what?” I demanded, the weight of her cryptic words pressing heavily on me.

She took a slow breath, her eyes meeting mine as if she were trying to peer into my soul. “The white hair sort of gave you away,” she said with a faint, knowing smile. “But I needed more proof. Now, I have it.”

My pulse quickened, and beside me, Dylan tensed. His impatience mirrored my own, and his voice broke through the thick silence. “Go straight to the point, Hannah,” he snapped. “We don’t have time for riddles.”

Hannah straightened, her expression resolute as she delivered her next words. “You, Katrina, are the last she-wolf—and our savior.”

Her words slammed into me like a wave, leaving me breathless. “Savior?” I echoed, my voice barely a whisper.

Dylan’s jaw tightened beside me, his frustration barely concealed. “What do you mean by ‘our savior?’” he demanded, his voice sharp, cutting through the thick air around us.

Hannah turned her gaze to him, calm and steady despite the tension. “I’m a witch,” she began, her tone matter-of-fact. “And my brothers are werewolves.”

Her statement struck me like a bolt of lightning. “Your brothers?” I repeated, disbelief evident in my voice. “How can your brothers be werewolves, and you’re not?”

“They’re my stepbrothers,” Hannah clarified, crossing her arms loosely. “We share the same father, but my mother was a witch. Their mother was a werewolf.”

Dylan frowned, the lines on his face deepening as he processed her words. “But Katrina is supposed to be the last of her kind,” he argued. “That’s what we’ve been told since the war. All werewolves except her were wiped out.”

Hannah let out a dry laugh, her eyes momentarily darkening. “That’s what most people think. But a few survived,” she said, her voice softer now, almost reverent. “A witch named Talia cast a spell to protect them. She bound them to their wolf forms and cloaked them so no one could find them. They’ve been hidden for years. Until seven months ago.”

Her words hit me like a cold gust of wind, chilling me to my core. “Seven months ago?” I echoed, my mind racing. That timeline was eerily familiar. Just like me.

“Yes,” Hannah said, nodding. “The spell broke. Slowly, they’ve been regaining their human forms, but it’s not an easy process. It takes time and strength. They didn’t know there were any other wolves out there until the prophecy.”

Dylan and I exchanged a look, his brow furrowed in thought while my mind raced ahead. Everything Hannah was saying felt too close to home. Seven months ago, I had shifted into my human form for the first time, breaking free from the spell that had bound me to my wolf form for years. Now she was talking about the prophecy.

“You know about the prophecy?” I asked, my voice a mix of hope and trepidation.

Hannah nodded, her eyes locking onto mine. “Yes, the prophecy about you being our savior. The girl with the white hair and the white wolf,” she said with a certainty that sent a chill down my spine. “The last she-wolf.”

Her words hung in the air like a storm cloud ready to burst. I turned to Dylan, and he looked back at me, his brow furrowed in confusion. This wasn’t the prophecy we knew.

“That’s not the prophecy we’ve heard,” I said, my voice trembling.

Hannah’s brows knit together in confusion. “What do you mean? Is there another prophecy?”

I hesitated, glancing at Dylan before continuing. “The prophecy we know about says that I’m going to die.”

Hannah’s face paled, her lips parting slightly in shock. “What?” she whispered. “That can’t be right.” She began pacing, her movements quick and agitated, as if she were trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces.

I watched her closely, my mind spinning. There were two prophecies about me—one claiming I was destined to save, the other claiming I was destined to die. The dichotomy was maddening, and I couldn’t help but wonder which one was true.

“How can there be two prophecies?” I asked, more to myself than anyone else.

Hannah stopped pacing, her hands trembling slightly as she turned to me. “If you die,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “then who will save the werewolves?”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as sandpaper. “How many are there?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

Hannah hesitated for a moment before answering. “Nine,” she said.

The number hit me like a punch to the stomach. A cold chill spread through me as a vision flashed before my eyes—the one I’d been plagued with. The lonely woods. The bodies on the ground. Nine of them. My chest tightened, and a wave of nausea rolled over me.

“Oh my God,” I breathed, the realization settling over me like a suffocating blanket. My voice broke as I turned to Dylan, my hands trembling. “The vision. It’s them. It’s the werewolves.”

Dylan’s face hardened, his jaw clenching as he processed my words. Hannah’s head snapped toward me, her expression a mix of confusion and fear. “What are you talking about?”

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my voice. “I’ve been having these visions,” I explained. “There are bodies in the woods—werewolves. And there are nine of them.”

Hannah’s face drained of color, and for a moment, she seemed frozen. Then, without warning, she started pacing again, her movements frantic. “This can’t be happening,” she murmured to herself, her voice shaky.

“Hannah,” I said, trying to get her attention. “What does this mean? What are we supposed to do?”

She stopped in her tracks, turning to face me. Her fear was evident now, her eyes wide and filled with panic. “We have to do something,” she said, her voice rising. “I have to warn the pack.”

“Wait,” I said, stepping forward. “You can’t just leave. There’s so much we still don’t understand.”

But Hannah was already backing away, shaking her head. “No,” she said firmly. “I need to tell them. They need to know.”

Before I could say another word, she turned and hurried away, her footsteps echoing in the stillness of the moment.

I stood frozen, my thoughts racing. What did all of this mean? What was I supposed to do? I turned to Dylan, searching his face for answers, but he looked just as lost as I felt.

I let out an exasperated breath and then looked at Sabina still unconscious in the ground.

"We need to do something about her before someone sees her and thinks something is wrong," I said.

"You're right. We'll take her home. Once she wakes up, she has some serious explaining to do," Dylan said.