The house felt too small, too fragile to keep the monsters out.
Claire pressed her back against the door, her pulse hammering in her ears as Lucian locked every bolt with shaking, bloodstained hands. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and his shirt, already torn from earlier, was now soaked with fresh crimson.
"You're hurt," she whispered, moving toward him instinctively.
Lucian shook his head. "It's not important."
"It is to me."
That stopped him. For a brief moment, something flickered across his face—pain, gratitude, something she couldn't name. But he said nothing.
Instead, he staggered into the kitchen, pulling open drawers, tossing aside utensils until he found a rag. Claire followed him, grabbing the first aid kit from under the sink.
"Sit," she ordered, her voice stronger than she felt.
Lucian hesitated, then dropped heavily into a chair. The tough, unflinching man who fought creatures in the dark now looked utterly human under the harsh kitchen light—worn, vulnerable.
Claire knelt before him and began cleaning the gash across his side. His skin was warm under her fingers, muscles tense but steady.
Neither of them spoke.
The silence between them wasn't empty—it was charged, full of things neither of them knew how to say yet.
When she was done, Claire sat back on her heels, meeting his gaze.
"Tell me the truth," she said. "All of it. No more half-answers."
Lucian exhaled slowly.
"You deserve that," he said. "But you might not like what you hear."
"I'm past that now."
He smiled faintly, then began.
He told her about the Moonbound—the ancient bloodlines cursed and blessed by forces older than recorded history. Not all of them were created equal. Some retained their humanity. Others descended into madness, becoming little more than beasts.
"The ones after you," Lucian said grimly, "they belong to the Broken Fang pack. They don't want coexistence. They want dominance."
"And me?" Claire asked, voice barely a whisper. "Where do I fit into all this?"
Lucian hesitated, his hands clenching into fists.
"You're a Seeker," he said. "Your blood carries an ancient gift—one that calls to the Moonbound. It can strengthen us... or be used against us."
Claire's stomach churned.
"Used how?"
"If they turn you," he said, voice low and pained, "they could create an army. Stronger. Faster. Unstoppable."
Claire stood up, wrapping her arms around herself as if she could hold her world together through sheer force of will.
"This can't be happening," she whispered. "I was just trying to live my life. I didn't ask for any of this."
"I know," Lucian said softly. "Neither did I."
Their eyes locked across the room, two broken souls caught in a war they hadn't started.
For the first time, Claire saw him not as the terrifying creature from her nightmares, but as someone just as trapped as she was.
Someone who had been fighting for a long, long time.
And maybe, just maybe, she wasn't as alone as she thought.
The night dragged on.
They moved quietly through the house, boarding up windows, laying traps near the door, reinforcing the back entrance.
Every small noise outside set Claire's nerves on edge.
Once, she thought she heard footsteps crunching in the grass. Lucian was at her side in an instant, motioning for silence. They waited, breath held, until the sound faded.
It was nearly dawn when they finally collapsed onto the living room floor, exhaustion pulling at every limb.
Claire leaned her head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling.
"I can't stay here," she said finally. "They know where I am now."
Lucian nodded. "You're right."
"Where will we go?"
"There's a place deep in the forest," he said. "Old territory. Sacred ground. They can't cross it without permission."
Claire turned her head toward him. "You're sure?"
"It's the only safe place left."
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Safe. Funny how fast that word stops meaning anything."
Lucian's eyes softened. "I'll keep you safe," he said. "No matter what it takes."
Claire believed him.
Not because he had promised—but because of the quiet, unshakeable conviction in his voice.
Because she could feel the bond between them like a living thing, tightening, strengthening with every moment they spent together.
Even if she didn't understand it fully, she trusted it.
She trusted him.
They left just after sunrise.
Claire packed what little she could carry: a backpack with clothes, water, a flashlight, and the silver pendant—now warm against her chest, thrumming with strange energy.
Lucian traveled light, carrying only a worn satchel slung over his shoulder.
The town was eerily quiet as they moved through it. Houses stood like hollowed-out shells. Curtains twitched. A dog barked somewhere in the distance, sharp and desperate.
Claire wondered if anyone else knew what was lurking in the shadows.
If they sensed how close danger was.
Probably not.
Most people preferred their monsters neatly hidden—out of sight, out of mind.
She used to be like that, too.
Not anymore.
The forest swallowed them whole.
The deeper they went, the darker it became. Sunlight barely pierced the dense canopy overhead. The ground was soft with moss and fallen leaves, muffling their footsteps.
Lucian led the way, moving with an easy, predatory grace that made Claire feel clumsy by comparison.
Still, she kept up, refusing to slow him down.
Hours passed.
Claire lost track of time, lost herself in the rhythm of walking, breathing, surviving.
Finally, Lucian stopped at the edge of a small ravine. A thin stream trickled below, the water clear and icy.
He pointed across it.
"Beyond there," he said. "We'll be safe."
Claire nodded, too tired to speak.
They scrambled down the slope, crossed the narrow stream, and climbed up the other side.
There, nestled among towering pines, was a small cabin.
Old, weathered, but solid. Smoke curled from the chimney. A welcoming sight in a world that felt increasingly hostile.
Claire stumbled toward it, her body aching, her spirit frayed.
Lucian caught her arm gently, steadying her.
"You're stronger than you think," he said quietly.
Claire didn't answer. She didn't have to.
Somewhere deep inside, she felt it—the spark of something fierce and wild awakening.
Maybe she wasn't just running anymore.
Maybe she was preparing to fight.
That night, as Claire curled up on the worn couch inside the cabin, she stared into the crackling fire and let herself hope—for the first time in what felt like forever—that maybe, just maybe, she could survive this.
That she and Lucian could survive it together.
Outside, in the endless forest, something howled.
But this time, Claire didn't flinch.
She listened.
She learned.
She waited.
Because she knew the storm was coming.
And this time, she would be ready.