Evelyn
Something's wrong with me.
It started with dreams.
At first, they were just flashes — silver trees, blood on my hands, a distant howl. But last night, I wasn't dreaming.
I woke up standing. Barefoot. Outside. In the woods.
I don't remember leaving my bed.
My fingernails were dirty. My hoodie was torn. And there were footprints in the mud behind me — deep, clawed, not mine.
Lucian says it's my bloodline reacting. That my wolf is waking up.
But if that's true… why does it feel like someone else is inside me?
⸻
School felt like a fog. People spoke, but their words faded in and out. The air smelled too sharp, like metal and moss. My heartbeat kept skipping.
And in the mirror outside the girls' bathroom, I saw something that wasn't me.
I was standing there, brushing hair out of my face — when my reflection didn't move.
It stared. Tilted its head. Smiled.
My heart stopped.
I blinked — and it was gone.
But for a moment… I swear her eyes were glowing silver.
⸻
At home, I locked the bathroom door and stared into the mirror again. Nothing unusual. Just my tired face.
Then something burned under my collarbone — the same place I'd felt pain last week.
I pulled my shirt down.
There it was: a mark.
Almost like a brand, thin as a razor. A circle of jagged lines.
Not drawn. Not scratched.
Carved into my skin — like it had always been there.
⸻
That night, I left the porch light off.
Lucian was late. I didn't mind.
I wanted to be alone.
I stood barefoot in the backyard, staring up at the moon. My hands shook.
Was I going crazy? Or changing into something I couldn't stop?
Then I smelled it — earth, smoke, and blood.
Someone else was here.
I turned. But the yard was empty.
Then I looked into the kitchen window… and my reflection stared back with glowing eyes and a bloodstained mouth.
⸻
Lucian
I found her just before midnight.
The back door was open.
Evelyn was standing in the woods, barefoot, shivering, her hands curled like claws.
Her eyes glowed silver in the moonlight — not soft, not subtle. Bright. Alpha-bright.
And when she turned to look at me, I stopped cold.
Not because she was beautiful.
Because for a second… she didn't recognize me.
⸻
"Evelyn," I said slowly, stepping closer.
No response.
"Evelyn. It's me."
Her breathing was heavy. Erratic. Her muscles tensed. Like an animal trapped in the wrong skin.
I reached for her.
She flinched.
Then growled.
Not a fake growl. A wolf growl.
Low, primal, dangerous.
⸻
"Come back," I said. "You're stronger than this. He's trying to break you — don't let him."
Her hands curled tighter.
Then — she blinked.
And collapsed.
⸻
I caught her just before she hit the ground.
Her body was burning up. Her mark — the Blackthorn sigil — glowed faintly through her shirt.
But she was breathing.
Still Evelyn.
For now.
⸻
I carried her inside, laid her on the couch. Her face twitched in her sleep. Like she was fighting something even now.
Something inside her.
The mark was waking.
And it wasn't just a wolf.
It was ancient. Powerful.
And connected to him.
⸻
Later That Night
Evelyn woke just before dawn.
Her voice was raw.
"I saw her again. In the mirror."
"Her?" I asked.
"Myself. But not me. She smiled like she knew something I didn't."
I sat beside her, silent.
"She had blood on her mouth," Evelyn whispered. "And she looked happy."
I felt ice in my chest.
"She's not a reflection," I said quietly. "She's your shadow."
Evelyn looked at me.
"What does that mean?"
"It means," I said, "you're not just waking up as a wolf."
I paused.
"You're waking up as something the rogue didn't expect."