Chapter 3: The Hidden Mark

Alethea's POV

I woke up with a start, my body damp with sweat, my heart racing like I’d just sprinted through the entire forest.

The memory of the dream clung to me like a fog—images of blood, claws, howls that pierced the sky.

And right at the center of it all was Ryker, standing amid a battlefield, his eyes blazing, his body slicked with a mixture of rain and blood.

I shivered, trying to shake the remnants of the nightmare, but my fingers brushed against something strange on my forearm. Frowning, I pulled my sleeve up, and froze.

There, just above my wrist, was a small, dark symbol—a crescent moon etched into my skin, faintly glowing against my pale flesh. I had no memory of it, no idea where it came from, or how long it had been there.

“What the hell…?” I whispered, running a finger over it. The mark felt warm, almost alive. As I touched it, a strange sensation rippled through me, something foreign yet achingly familiar.

A knock at my door made me jump. The sound was barely a knock, more like a commanding tap, sharp and unmistakably confident.

Before I could say a word, the door creaked open, and Ryker stepped inside.

“What are you doing here?” I hissed, instinctively pulling my sleeve down over the mark. My pulse quickened, both from anger and something else—a tension that seemed to fill the room the moment he walked in.

Ryker’s gaze was intense, sharp, his eyes locking onto mine. “I need to talk to you.”

“Then you knock and wait for an answer. You don’t just barge in.” I shot him a glare, though I couldn’t ignore the jolt of awareness that his presence brought.

“There’s no time for pleasantries,” he said, his voice calm but urgent. He stepped closer, and I instinctively backed away, only to find myself against the wall. “I saw the mark, Alethea. You can’t hide it from me.”

My eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, you saw it? How could you—”

“It’s connected to the lore of my pack,” he interrupted, his gaze dropping to my covered arm. “That crescent moon isn’t just a mark. It’s a symbol of something ancient, something tied to the Midnight Fang pack. It’s a sign of a bond—a bond to this world and, possibly, to me.”

I felt my stomach twist. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t even remember getting it. I woke up and it was just… there.”

“Exactly.” He took another step closer, his gaze steady, unflinching. “Things like that don’t just appear without reason. It’s a sign that there’s more to you than you know.”

“Stop talking like you know me.” I tried to push past him, but his hand shot out, trapping me in place.

“Do you really think you can ignore this, Alethea? Ignore what’s happening to you?” His eyes bored into mine, and for a moment, I could see something raw there—something dark and possessive. “That mark is a part of you. It connects you to me, to my pack, to this life.”

I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my composure. “I didn’t ask for any of this, Ryker. I don’t want to be connected to you or your pack. I just want my life back.”

“Your life,” he said, his voice softer now, almost gentle, “isn’t what you thought it was. There’s a reason you’re here, a reason you’ve been drawn back to Silverwood, to me. You’re more connected to this world than you know.”

“Why do you even care?” My voice cracked, frustration bubbling over. “You don’t know anything about me. You’re just trying to manipulate me for whatever agenda you have.”

Ryker’s gaze darkened, but he didn’t pull away. “You think this is about my agenda? About power? Alethea, if this were about control, I wouldn’t have warned you. I wouldn’t be here, telling you things that could change everything.”

I forced myself to meet his gaze, the weight of his words sinking in. “Then what is this about?”

He was silent for a moment, his jaw clenched as if struggling to find the right words. “It’s about survival. And maybe… maybe it’s about something more.”

The tension between us was palpable, a crackling energy that neither of us seemed willing to break. My heart raced, my thoughts a chaotic mess.

The words he’d said lingered in my mind, pulling at something deep inside me, something I didn’t want to acknowledge.

Before I could respond, Ryker reached for my arm. I flinched, but he held my gaze, his touch surprisingly gentle as he rolled up my sleeve, exposing the crescent moon mark.

I felt a strange, pulsing energy from his touch, a heat that seemed to intensify the closer he got to the mark. His fingers brushed over it, and I felt a shiver run through me, an inexplicable pull that was as unnerving as it was exhilarating.

“This mark,” he said quietly, his thumb tracing the crescent shape, “is a bond. A connection to the Midnight Fang, to me, and to the forces that bind this world together. It’s ancient, Alethea. It means you’re tied to us, to something beyond just human existence.”

I shook my head, pulling my arm back. “I don’t believe in any of this,” I whispered, though my voice was shaky. “I don’t want to be tied to you, Ryker. I don’t want any of this.”

“You may not want it,” he replied, his gaze steady, “but it’s already part of you.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with a truth I didn’t want to accept. I looked away, trying to find something, anything, that could make sense of this chaos. But the image of that battlefield, the blood, the howls, his presence at the center of it—it all kept coming back, haunting me.

“I saw something… in a dream,” I muttered, not even sure why I was telling him. “A battle. Wolves everywhere, fighting. And you… you were in the middle of it.”

Ryker’s expression hardened, but he didn’t look surprised. “What you saw wasn’t just a dream, Alethea. It was a memory—a vision of something that happened before. Something you were connected to, even if you don’t remember.”

“What are you saying?” I whispered, feeling a chill settle over me. “Are you trying to say I’m—”

He nodded. “You’re connected to this world, more than you know. That mark is proof of it. You carry the bloodline of a powerful lineage, one that has been part of werewolf lore for centuries. And that dream… it’s a sign that the past is coming back, whether you’re ready or not.”

I swallowed, my mind reeling. “But… why me? Why now?”

Ryker’s gaze softened, and for a moment, I could see the weight he carried, the burdens he bore. “Because you’re not just any human, Alethea. You’re part of a prophecy—a prophecy that could either save us or destroy us. And that makes you a target.”

My breath caught in my throat. “A target? For what?”

Ryker’s eyes darkened. “For the packs, the rogues, anyone who believes in that prophecy. They’ll come for you, try to use you, bend you to their will. They’ll stop at nothing to control the power that lies within you.”

I felt a surge of anger, a defiant spark rising within me. “Then let them come. I’ll fight them. I won’t be anyone’s pawn.”

Ryker’s lips curved into a slight smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re brave, I’ll give you that. But this fight… it’s not one you can handle alone.”

I crossed my arms, meeting his gaze with all the determination I could muster. “I don’t need your protection, Ryker.”

He took a step closer, his voice low, dangerous. “Maybe not. But whether you like it or not, we’re connected now. And I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

The intensity in his gaze made my heart pound, a strange mixture of fear and something else—something I didn’t want to acknowledge.

But before I could reply, a sudden chill swept through the room, and I felt a strange, creeping sensation crawl over my skin. Ryker’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the room.

“What is it?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze locked onto something just beyond me, his expression darkening with a realization I couldn’t grasp.

“Alethea,” he murmured, his voice filled with an edge of urgency. “You’re not alone in here.”

A cold shiver raced down my spine as I turned, looking over my shoulder into the shadows that seemed to thicken and pulse. And there, lurking just at the edge of the room, was a figure cloaked in darkness, its eyes gleaming with an unnatural light.

My heart seized as I recognized the emblem emblazoned on the figure’s chest—the same crescent moon, twisted and shadowed.

The figure stepped forward, a sinister smile spreading across its face. And as it did, I knew that everything Ryker had said was true.

This wasn’t a game. This was a fight for survival.