POV: Elara
The GPS on my phone had died twenty minutes ago, and I was beginning to think that following the supposedly "scenic route" my coworker had suggested was the worst idea I'd had all month. The narrow road wound through dense forest, and the late afternoon sun barely penetrated the canopy above, casting everything in an eerie twilight.
I pulled my Honda to the side of the road and checked my phone again. No signal. Of course.
"Great Elara," I muttered, drumming my fingers against the steering wheel. "Lost in the middle of nowhere because you couldn't just take the highway like a normal person."
But something had drawn me here. Call it intuition, call it stupidity—either way, I'd felt an almost magnetic pull to take this route home from my interview at Morrison Industries. The job had gone well, better than expected, and I'd been riding high on confidence when I'd decided to explore.
Now that confidence was rapidly deflating.
I grabbed my water bottle and stepped out of the car, stretching muscles cramped from the two-hour drive. The air here was different—cleaner, wilder, with an underlying scent that made my skin prickle with awareness. It reminded me of something I couldn't quite place, something that made my heart race without reason.
The sound of running water caught my attention. A stream, maybe? If I could find it, I might be able to get my bearings. I locked the car and pushed through the underbrush, following the sound deeper into the forest.
The trees here were ancient, their trunks thick enough that three people couldn't wrap their arms around them. Moss covered everything in a carpet of green so vivid it seemed unnatural. And still, that strange awareness prickled along my spine, as if invisible eyes were tracking my every movement.
"Hello?" I called out, feeling foolish. "Is anyone there?"
Only silence answered, broken by the rustle of leaves and the distant babble of water.
I pushed forward, my sneakers sliding on the damp earth. The stream was closer now—I could hear it clearly, and the air grew cooler with each step. But as I rounded a massive oak tree, I stopped dead.
A wrought iron fence stretched as far as I could see in both directions, its spikes gleaming like black teeth. Beyond it, a gravel path wound through manicured gardens that seemed impossibly lush compared to the wild forest. And in the distance, barely visible through the trees, I caught a glimpse of stone and glass—a mansion that belonged in architectural magazines, not hidden in the middle of nowhere.
A brass plaque mounted on the fence read: PRIVATE PROPERTY - NO TRESPASSING - BLACKTHORNE ESTATE.
Blackthorne. The name sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. I'd heard it somewhere before but couldn't place where. Business journals, maybe? My interview today had been full of corporate names and merger talk.
The smart thing would be to turn around, find my car, and figure out another way home. But as I stood there, that magnetic pull I'd felt earlier intensified. Every instinct I possessed screamed that something important waited beyond that fence. Something that could change everything.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I found a section where the iron bars were spaced wider than the rest. It would be a tight fit, but I was small enough to squeeze through if I was careful.
"This is insane," I whispered, but I was already pushing my purse through the gap. "Completely, utterly insane."
The metal was cold against my skin as I wedged myself between the bars. For a moment, I thought I might be stuck, but then I was through, standing on forbidden ground with my heart hammering against my ribs.
The gravel crunched under my feet as I started up the path. Everything here was perfectly maintained—not a weed in sight, every hedge trimmed to geometric precision. It was beautiful, but in a way that felt almost threatening. Too perfect. Too controlled.
I'd gone maybe fifty yards when I heard it: the soft pad of footsteps on gravel behind me.
I spun around but saw nothing. The path stretched empty back toward the fence, shadows dancing between the trees. But I could have sworn...
"You're imagining things," I told myself, but my voice sounded thin in the oppressive quiet.
Another sound—a branch snapping somewhere to my left. Then silence again.
My palms were sweating now, and every survival instinct I possessed was screaming at me to run. But my feet seemed rooted to the gravel, and that inexplicable pull kept drawing me forward, deeper into the estate.
A low growl rumbled from the darkness between the trees.
This time, I didn't hesitate. I ran.
Gravel flew under my sneakers as I sprinted up the path, my purse bouncing against my hip. Behind me, I could hear pursuit—not human footsteps, but something else. Something that moved through the underbrush with predatory grace.
The mansion loomed ahead, all dark windows and imposing stone. I could see lights now, warm and inviting, but still so far away. My lungs burned as I pushed myself harder, terror giving me speed I didn't know I possessed.
A figure stepped out of the shadows directly ahead of me.
I skidded to a halt, gravel spraying, my heart slamming against my ribs like a caged bird. The man was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in an expensive dark suit that somehow looked perfectly pressed despite the forest setting. But it was his eyes that made my breath catch—pale blue, cold as winter sky, and fixed on me with an intensity that made me feel like prey.
"Lost, little lamb?" His voice was smooth, cultured, with an undercurrent of something dangerous that made my skin prickle.
I took a step backward, then another. "I... I was just trying to find my way back to the road. My GPS died, and I—"
"You're trespassing." The words cut through my babbling like a blade. "On private property. My property."
Blackthorne. This had to be him, whoever he was. And I was in so much trouble.
"I'm sorry," I managed, proud that my voice didn't shake. "I didn't mean any harm. I'll leave right now."
His lips curved in what might have been a smile if it had reached his eyes. "Will you? The question is whether I'll let you."
The growling sound came again, closer this time, and I realized with growing horror that it was coming from him.