The knife that pinned the note to the cabin door was old, worn, etched with crescent moons on the hilt.
Mira stared at the words scrawled across the parchment:
YOU ARE NOT READY.
No signature. No symbol. Just ink and threat.
Grey took the knife, flipped it in his hand. "Ghost Howler craftsmanship."
"But this wasn't meant to kill," Liam said, frowning. "If they were that close, they could've hit any of us."
"They don't want her dead," Grey said. "They want her unstable. Isolated."
Mira didn't respond. She kept staring at the paper, reading it over and over like it would change.
She wasn't afraid of the threat.
She was afraid it might be true.
Her wolf was awake but untrained. She hadn't shifted since the attack. The burn in her blood never stopped. And now she was starting to feel things; violent things.
Thoughts that didn't sound like hers.
"What if I'm not ready?" she asked quietly.
Grey looked at her. "Then we make you ready."
The rest of the day was spent reinforcing the cabin, checking the perimeter, and laying magical barriers with the last of the seer's salts. It wasn't much, but it bought time.
When the sky turned to bruised violet, Mira stepped outside.
Grey followed her, silent.
She didn't speak until they reached the trees.
"I want to try."
He nodded. "Shifting?"
"No. Controlling it."
She dropped to her knees in the clearing, breathing deep.
The first time she'd shifted, it had been explosive. Her wolf had ripped free like a force of nature, triggered by trauma and blood. But now… she needed precision. She needed balance.
Grey stood back, giving her space.
She closed her eyes.
Focused.
Breathed.
At first, nothing.
Then the tremble began. Her fingers elongated. Her back arched. The change started but her mind stayed conscious.
She was doing it.
Controlling it.
But then….
She smelled something.
Faint. Wrong.
Burned herbs.
Wolfsbane.
Her body spasmed mid-shift. Her claws retracted. Her spine cracked the wrong way. She gasped, collapsing.
Grey was beside her instantly. "Mira!"
"I…" She rolled onto her side, shaking. "Something's close."
He sniffed the air.
"Someone's masking the scent," he growled. "But I can smell it too."
They bolted for the cabin.
Liam was already at the door, blades drawn.
"Trouble?" he asked.
"Wolfsbane," Mira said, breath still ragged. "They were testing how close they could get."
Grey's eyes narrowed. "Which means they know you're trying to shift."
Liam cursed under his breath. "They're baiting you. Trying to trigger a wild shift again."
"Which would mark the whole forest," Mira said, realizing the trap.
Grey nodded grimly. "They want you to lose control."
Mira grabbed a silver needle from her med kit and jabbed it into her thigh, one of the old grounding techniques from when she was suppressing her wolf. Pain. Focus. Anchor.
The fire dulled in her chest, just enough to think straight.
Liam watched her, uneasy. "This isn't sustainable."
"It's not supposed to be," she said. "It's supposed to buy us enough time."
"For what?" he asked.
She looked out the window into the trees.
"For me to become something they can't bait."
That night, she barely slept. Her dreams were full of fire, blood, and red moons rising too fast.
Just before dawn, she woke with a start.
A new scent was in the cabin.
Not blood.
Not smoke.
Paper.
She rose and walked to the door.
Another note had been slipped under the frame.
She picked it up, hands cold.
Four words again.
WE'RE INSIDE ALREADY.
End of Chapter Thirteen
...…..
The Ghost Howlers aren't just circling anymore. They've breached the perimeter and they're inside the game now. But how long until Mira's control shatters again?