Chapter 1

1

TEN YEARS AGO

" T hat's the fourth no trespassing sign I've seen," I mutter under my breath as I follow my dad through the thick brush of the forest, brittle twigs and dead leaves crunching underfoot with every step we take.

"Must mean we're onto something with this location," he replies in a low voice. "The more effort put into keeping people away, the more of an indication that they've got something to hide." He glances back at me over his shoulder, frowning in disapproval before jerking his chin in command. "Mind your weapon, son."

I quickly correct my grip, remembering my training. I have a year of experience under my belt at this point- a year more than most sixteen-year-olds have- but even though I'm still learning, my father has little tolerance for error. I mentally berate myself for losing focus as we continue trudging through the overgrown forest, knowing I'll be punished for my slip-up later with a grueling refresher course on proper gun handling.

The last time Dad caught me resting my gun on my arm instead of holding it at the ready, he forced me to stand outside all night with my rifle in my hands until my arm muscles turned to jelly and threatened to give out. I never dropped it, though- not even when it started pouring down rain. Dad just smirked at me from the porch, daring me to pussy out, but I didn't. I could barely move the next day and was sick for a week afterward, but damnit if I didn't learn my lesson.

Or at least I should have. The thought of going through that again makes my stomach lurch, but I'll survive it if I have to. Dad's methods might be akin to torture sometimes, but they're never without purpose, so I try to take any punishments he doles out in stride, knowing they're for my own good. He's only hard on me because he cares.

Still, sometimes I wonder what it'd be like if I was just a normal teenager, attending high school and hanging out with my friends rather than being dragged along on a wild goose chase to try to find werewolves.

Yeah , I fully realize how insane that sounds, but it's my life.

My mom got sick a couple years back, and as the cancer spread throughout her body, she became less and less lucid. Toward the end, she started babbling about werewolves, and in his grief, my father latched onto her incoherent stories and convinced himself that monsters exist. A dying woman's nonsensical claims became his obsession.

His deep dive into the internet didn't help matters. There are countless stories posted by people of their supposed firsthand accounts with the beasts, and when Dad began accessing the dark web to dig further, it only strengthened his conviction that there were elements of truth to my mother's ramblings.

I'm… less convinced . But here I am, humoring him anyway, because this is the only way the two of us have been able to connect since she died last year.

We've already covered a lot of this area, and the only creatures we've encountered over the past month have been squirrels and rabbits. I've tried to talk Dad into moving on, but he's following some tip he got from the message board he created on the dark web; some anecdotal tale from a random crazy person who swears they saw a wolf transform into a man here in Colorado.

He thinks we're getting close.

I think it's possible he's lost his mind.

Dad abruptly stops, raising a hand in a directive for me to do the same. "Do you hear that?" he whispers, turning his head and staring off into the distance.

I strain my ears in an effort to pick up whatever he's listening to, but all I hear is the rustle of the leaves.

"I… no," I state with a frown, not wanting to add to his paranoia by pretending I do. "I don't hear anything."

He flicks me an annoyed glance over his shoulder, then returns his gaze to the same spot he was staring at before. "I could've sworn I heard a growl," he mutters.

I want to tell him that it's probably all in his head, but I refrain from offering my opinion. It'll only be met with mirth, and I don't want to give him an excuse to get any more creative with his punishment for letting my gun slip.

He remains perfectly still for another full minute, listening intently. Then his shoulders droop as he heaves a sigh and starts forward again, waving for me to follow him.

As pointless as I think this search is, my dad's the only family I've got left. And since we moved around so much before Mom got sick and I never had a chance to establish any other relationships, he's all I've got, period . He might think I'm out here to hunt because I'm just as dedicated to the cause as he is, but really, I'm just tagging along to make sure he doesn't fuck around and die on me. Then I'd truly be alone.

"Eyes up, Cameron," he grunts, as if he can sense how unfocused I am tonight without even looking back at me.

I snap my gaze up, sweeping it over the forest around us. It's always the same, night after night. There aren't any monsters lurking in the shadows .

I keep pace with my dad, watching and listening, knowing this whole thing is pointless. I'm trying to come up with some way to talk him into giving all this up when I hear a deep rumbling sound in the distance.

A growl.

I slam to a stop, my breath catching in my throat.

Dad must hear it, too, because he also freezes, the two of us barely breathing as we stare into the dark forest, both listening intently. My pulse picks up speed, pounding in my ears as my fingers grip my rifle tighter.

The seconds that tick by feel like an eternity before chaos erupts.

A freakishly large grey wolf springs from the dense brush, sharp teeth bared in a snarl as it launches itself at my father. It moves so fast that neither of us can line up a shot in time, and it easily takes him down to the ground, knocking his rifle out of his hands and snapping its jaws as it goes for his throat.

I don't think, I just react. I pull the trigger of my rifle, popping off a shot that goes wide and has the wolf jerking his head in my direction. Evil, soulless eyes of liquid gold stare into mine as I squeeze the trigger again, and this time, I don't miss.

A high-pitched whine escapes from the animal's throat as my bullet pierces its meaty abdomen, its body jerking from the impact. Without hesitation, I fire two more shots, and my aim is true. The wolf stumbles sideways, collapsing onto the ground beside my father's prone form.

"Dad!" I gasp, still gripping my gun tightly as I lunge toward him and drop to my knees at his side. "Are you hurt?"

He curls up to sit with a groan, scrubbing a hand over the back of his head where it hit the ground. "I'm fine," he huffs, almost like he's annoyed. Then he turns to look over at the body of the wolf beside him and I follow his gaze, sucking in a short gasp when I realize that the air around the animal looks like it's shimmering .

My eyes widen, and everything I thought I knew about the world goes out the window as the wolf's fur starts to recede, revealing smooth tanned skin. Its bones rearrange, and I blink chaotically as my brain struggles to grasp what I'm seeing.

Within seconds, there's no longer a wolf laying there on the ground beside my father, its fur soaked in blood. In its place is a human man bleeding out from bullet wounds in his chest and neck; the same places I shot the animal.

Holy shit…

Werewolves are real.