Raine's POV
I slammed my window shut with more force than necessary, the glass rattling in its frame. My breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, my hands trembling at my sides.
I hated him.
God, I hated him.
It should've been impossible for a person to feel this much rage without bursting apart. My chest burned, my skin was hot, and my mind spun with too many emotions to contain.
Why? Why was he like this?
Ronan had stood beneath my window like a ghost haunting the night, his dark fur blending with the shadows. For a second-just a second-my heart had stilled at the sight of him. He hadn't moved, hadn't made a sound, just watched me with those piercing golden eyes, the same eyes that had always been filled with malice.
And then, like the absolute bastard he was, he had shifted-just to mock me, to tear me apart all over again.
"Do you think I care enough to check up on you?"
His voice had been so cold, so sharp it could've sliced through steel.
"You're being delusional."
I clenched my fists as the words echoed in my skull, rattling inside me like broken glass.
Then why had he been here?
Why had he been standing outside my window like some cursed, silent protector?
I hated him.
I hated how he got under my skin. How every interaction with him left me raw and exposed, like an open wound that would never heal. I hated that even when I was supposed to fear whatever creature lurked in the woods, it was Ronan who still managed to be the monster I feared most.
With a sharp inhale, I tore my sweater off and threw it across the room, needing to do something. I paced from one end of my small bedroom to the other, my heart still racing, my mind still storming.
I had bigger things to worry about.
Like the fact that something was out there. Something dangerous.
The attack in the woods replayed in my mind, the memory sending a fresh wave of unease crawling down my spine. The way the shadows had shifted, the guttural growls that didn't sound like any wolf I'd ever heard, the unnatural energy that had clung to the air.
I had never felt anything like it before.
And the way Ronan had reacted... I hated myself for remembering the look in his eyes.
I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling shakily. It didn't matter. Non of it matters.
I just know that the thing I encounter today is very dangerous.
I glanced at the clock. It was late, but I already knew my mother would be back. If she wasn't passed out drunk, she'd be in the living room, flipping through fashion magazines, pretending her life was better than it was.
I hesitated before stepping out of my room, my pulse still uneven.
The hallway was dim, the creaky wooden floors groaning under my weight as I made my way toward the living room.
As expected, my mother sat curled up on the couch, a half-empty wine glass in her hand, an expensive-looking magazine spread open on her lap. She looked up when she heard me, her perfectly manicured brow arching.
"She looked up when she heard me, her expression unreadable for a moment before she sighed. "What is it now, Raine?"
I hesitated, suddenly unsure why I had even come out here.
But then I heard myself say, "There's something in the woods."
Her brows lifted slightly, more in irritation than concern. "Something in the woods?"
I nodded. "I don't know what it was, but it wasn't a normal wolf."
She exhaled through her nose, setting her wine glass down on the coffee table. "Raine, I don't have time for this."
I stiffened. "You're not even listening."
"Because there's nothing to listen to," she snapped, closing her magazine with a sharp flick of her wrist. "You've always been like this, you know? Acting like the world is out to get you."
I bit the inside of my cheek, the familiar sting of her dismissal pressing against my ribs.
"I saw something," I said quietly.
"And I see something too," she shot back, her voice clipped. "A daughter who can't go a single day without making a scene."
I swallowed hard, forcing down the anger bubbling in my chest.
Footsteps sounded behind me, and I turned just as Brielle walked into the room, her blonde hair tied up in a loose bun, her phone in one hand. She glanced between us, her lips quirking up in amusement.
"What now?" she asked, clearly entertained.
"She thinks she saw a monster," my mother answered dryly, reaching for her wine again.
Brielle snorted. "Oh my God. Are you serious?"
I clenched my jaw. "I did see something."
Brielle smirked. "What, was it your creepy stalker? Ronan?"
My stomach twisted. "He's not my stalker."
She rolled her eyes. "Please. The way he's always watching you? It's actually kind of funny."
Funny.
That was the word she chose.
She didn't know what it felt like to have his eyes on me. She didn't know what it felt like to be humiliated, to be ripped apart piece by piece by his cruel words, his cruel actions.
And she never would.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, my fingers curling into fists. "You don't know anything about him."
Brielle tilted her head. "Oh, but I do. I know he's rich. I know he's hot. And I know that if he was obsessed with me, I wouldn't be complaining."
I stared at her, something hollow settling in my chest.
She had no idea.
She would never understand what it was like to be the target of someone like Ronan.
I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw ached. I was done.
"You're disgusting," I muttered, turning on my heel.
She burst out laughing while or should I say croaking while sounding like a dying chicken.
"Go to hell," I spat before storming off, my entire body trembling with rage.
I hated them.
I hated them both.
They didn't understand anything. They never had.
I slammed my bedroom door shut, my breath uneven, my hands shaking. I wanted to scream. I wanted to rip something apart, to let all this anger out before it drowned me
But all I could do was sink onto my bed, pressing my palms into my temples as I tried to steady my breathing.
I shouldn't have expected anything different.
Brielle and my mother had never been the kind of people who listened-at least not to me. But there was a time, years ago, when things weren't this way. When my mother still looked at me with warmth instead of irritation. When Brielle hadn't been so desperate to fit into a world that had no room for me.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push the memories away, but they clawed their way in anyway.
I was sixteen the last time my mother had truly seen me. My father was still alive then, and for all his flaws, he had loved me. I still remembered the way his rough hands would ruffle my hair, the way his deep laughter would fill the house, making everything feel lighter.
When he was around, my mother was softer. She tried to be a good mother, even if it was only to make him happy.
But after he was gone?
She unraveled.
The warmth in her eyes faded, replaced by something cold, something distant. Wine became her only comfort, and I became nothing more than a burden, a reminder of the man she had lost.
And Brielle...
She had never been cruel. Not in the beginning. She used to allow me to braid her hair before school, used to sneak into my room late at night when we were kids, whispering about the futures we dreamed of.
But somewhere along the way, she decided I wasn't worth standing beside.
Maybe it was when the rumors about me started. Maybe it was when Ronan and his friends decided I was their favorite source of entertainment.
Or maybe she had always been this way, and I had just been too naive to see it.
My throat tightened.
It didn't matter.
None of it mattered.
I forced myself to breathe, forced my body to relax against the sheets. But the moment my eyes slipped shut, the memories from earlier came rushing back.
The woods. The darkness pressing in from all sides. The unnatural growl that had sent ice through my veins.
It hadn't been a wolf.
I knew what wolves sounded like-I had grown up in a town filled with them. This was something else, something wrong.
And the way the air had felt, the way the shadows had shifted as if they were alive...
I shivered, my eyes snapping open.
What if it was still out there?
What if it was waiting?
A new kind of fear curled in my stomach, cold and sharp. I turned onto my side, staring at the window, half-expecting to see those same glowing eyes from the woods staring back at me.
Instead, all I saw was the faint reflection of my own face-tired, pale, haunted.
I hated this. I hated feeling this way.
I should have told someone else. Someone who would actually listen.
But who?
Certainly not my mother.
Not Brielle.
Lena.
But I don't want to worry her.
"Maybe I just like watching pathetic little girls cry."
I curled my fingers into the blankets, rage simmering beneath my skin.
I did hate him.
I hated him more than anything.
But hate wouldn't keep me safe. Hate wouldn't protect me from whatever had been in those woods tonight.
I glanced at the window one last time, my pulse still unsteady, before forcing myself to lie back down.
I wouldn't sleep tonight.
But if something was out there, I'd rather be awake to hear it coming.