Lena had a dream.
Not the kind of dream that came from stress or bad digestion, but something older. Wilder. The kind that didn't feel like dreaming at all.
She was running.
Not with fear—but purpose. Her breath ripped through her lungs in steady, effortless rhythm. Her feet hit the forest floor with animal precision, not the clumsy stepping of a human unfamiliar with roots and uneven soil. Moonlight shredded through the branches, silvering her vision. Trees blurred. Water rushed somewhere nearby—a stream she knew, somehow, by heart.
And beside her—
A presence. Massive. Warm. Furious.
Not a man. Not a beast.
Something in between.
She didn't see him. Didn't need to. She never looked at him when they ran; she simply knew him, the way her body knew how to move in the dark.
He was there.
Always there.
Their steps fell in sync. Two heartbeats. One shared instinct.
And then—
She stumbled.
Pain lanced across her chest abruptly. Not physical—something deeper. A ripping, wrenching ache that tore through her spirit itself. She couldn't see him anymore, couldn't hear the thunder of paws next to her.
She gasped—
"Killian!"
Lena bolted upright in bed.
Her heart hammered against her ribs like something trying to escape. Sweat slicked her spine. The room was too dark, too still.
She clutched the sheets, staring wide-eyed into the void.
"Killian…" she whispered again, the name falling from her lips before her mind even caught up.
The silence swallowed it greedily.
She didn't know a Killian.
Did she?
Lena brought trembling fingers to her lips, as if she could catch the name before it left her. But it was gone—just like the forest, the running, the heat beside her. She tried to remember more, but every second she spent awake seemed to bleach the dream further into nothing.
She lay back, chest heaving.
"What the hell…"
It wasn't the first dream.
Not since she'd come to Blackthorn Ridge.
Each night had been a variation of the same thing: running. Wind in her face. Her body moving with a confidence and power she did not possess in her waking life. And always—always—that presence beside her.
Except tonight was the first time she'd spoken his name.
The first time she'd known his name.
Killian.
Lena shivered.
She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, trying to calm her racing heart. She wasn't the type to believe in past lives, or prophetic dreams, or the mystical nonsense her Aunt Elara used to ramble about in her letters—about ancient bonds, moons that remembered, souls that howled.
But something inside her…
something beyond logic…
was shifting.
And it terrified her.
–
The morning brought no relief—only more questions.
Lena stood outside the cabin, cradling a cup of tea in her palms. The air was cold, but not unkind. A soft morning mist clung to the trees like lace. Birds called, their sounds weaving into the quiet. It should've been peaceful.
But she was still thinking about him.
She couldn't shake the sensation of someone at her side.
Someone missing.
"Good morning." Ethan stepped out onto the porch, pulling his jacket closed. He kissed her cheek lightly. "You were restless last night."
Lena hesitated. "Yeah. Strange dreams."
"Work dreams?" he joked. "Or the kind where you forget your presentation?"
She forced a nod, grateful he'd filled in a safer explanation for her. No way she was telling him she'd been sprinting through the woods with a wolf-man she didn't know but whose name she whispered like a prayer.
"What's on the agenda today?" Ethan asked.
Lena sipped her tea. "Unpack. Organize some of Elara's things. Then maybe… explore."
"Explore?"
She shrugged, eyes drifting toward the tree line.
"Maybe I'll take a walk into town. Get familiar with the area."
Ethan smiled. "That's great. Get settled in. Make this place feel like home."
Home.
The word felt hollow. Like trying to fit into someone else's dream.
–
By noon, Lena had unpacked what she could stomach unpacking.
She wandered outside instead.
Forest surrounded the cabin from every angle. The trees towered, ancient and wise. Their branches weaved overhead like a cathedral of shadows and leaves. The world beyond the town was green… but not soft. Not tame.
It felt alive.
Like it was watching her.
Her steps crunched on pine needles as she wandered a familiar path—the one she'd glimpsed through her dream. Deeper into the woods. Not so far to get lost, but far enough that she could breathe without eyes on her.
That's when the déjà vu hit.
Lena stopped.
The air rippled around her—a faint shift, like a shudder in the unseen fabric. The same cold press against her spine she felt when she'd opened the cabin door last night. Like someone else was here. Watching.
Her pulse sped up.
"Hello?" she said impulsively.
Nothing.
But the silence didn't feel empty.
Her fingers twitched. She slowly crouched, brushing a hand across the earth, as if expecting to feel pawprints beneath her touch. It was ridiculous. Completely irrational. Nothing about this place should make her feel hunted—but also… protected.
And then she heard it.
A low, almost inaudible rumble.
Not thunder.
Not wind.
A growl.
She snapped her head up.
There—between the trees…
Yellow eyes glinted through the shade.
Lena's breath hitched.
A wolf—not a dog—watched her. Massive. Unmoving. Fur the color of storm clouds, darker around the muzzle. Muscles coiled beneath its body. Not snarling. Not attacking.
Just watching.
Oddly… familiar.
Her heartbeat thundered.
Something inside her rose—not fear, but something deeper, wilder. A stirring she couldn't make sense of. That pull from the dream. That feeling she had when she'd nearly collapsed last night.
"Are you—are you lost?" she stammered.
The wolf's head tilted.
As if it understood.
As if it recognized her.
Lena took a step back, but her eyes were locked to the creature's. The connection felt like a thread snapping between them—sharp and sudden.
Then the wolf turned, disappearing into the shadows as silently as it came.
Lena stood frozen.
The forest swallowed the moment whole.
–
That night, Lena dreamed again.
She was running.
Beside her, the presence—
Closer this time. Familiar. Comforting.
She whispered a name.
"Killian."
And this time—
The dream whispered back.
"I'm coming."