Being watched by monsters is becoming uncomfortably normal.
The shadow creature that tracked us through the forest didn't attack. Didn't flee. Just observed, calculated, and disappeared like smoke when it had seen enough. That should terrify me more than it does. Instead, the experience files itself away like any other data point—violet glow in its eyes, the deliberate movements, the way the ley lines pulsed in response.
Shadow monsters have become something I analyze instead of run from. Not sure when that change happened.
Jonah walks beside me as we return to the compound, his hand warm around mine. He hasn't said much since we left the convergence point, but I feel his tension through the bond. The ritual looms ahead of us like a cliff edge we're about to step off together.
The compound comes into view through the trees. Beyond it, in the forest clearing, torches burn in the stone circle. Jonah's brothers move between the compound and the clearing with purpose, carrying ceremonial items I don't recognize yet. Everything is ready. Everything is waiting.
For us. For tonight.
My stomach knots.
"I need some air," I say. "Just a few minutes to clear my head before?—"
"Take your time." Jonah's thumb brushes across my knuckles. "This is huge. You're allowed to process."
I squeeze his hand once, then head toward the edge of the compound where the forest meets the clearing. I just need a moment. I just need to breathe.
That's when I see the rental car.
It's parked near the main road, a silver sedan with California plates that looks wildly out of place among the trucks and SUVs that belong here. Recognition hits before the driver's door even opens.
Derek.
He unfolds from the car like he owns the space, all expensive hiking gear that's never seen actual wilderness and that confident stride that used to make my heart race. Now it just makes me tired.
"Maren!" He spots me immediately, face breaking into that charming smile that photographs so well. "Thank god. I've been driving around this backwoods maze for an hour trying to find you."
I don't move from where I'm standing. "Derek. What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you, obviously." He approaches like there's no reason I wouldn't want to see him, no reason he shouldn't just show up unannounced. "You disappeared. Stopped returning calls. Your editor had no idea where you went."
"I needed space."
"For eight months?" He stops a few feet away, taking in my appearance with an expression I can't quite read. "You look different."
I probably do. Eight months in Redwood Rise has changed me in ways that have nothing to do with becoming a shifter. My hair is longer, sun-streaked. My skin has color from being outdoors. I'm wearing worn jeans and a flannel shirt instead of my usual field gear.
I look like I belong here.
"What do you want, Derek?"
"To finish what we started." He pulls out his phone, swiping through images. "The Pacific Coast documentary. Remember? We had funding. We had distribution. We had everything lined up, and then you just bailed."
"I didn't bail. I told you I needed time."
"Eight months, Maren. The funding is about to expire. If we don't deliver by end of quarter, we lose everything." He pockets the phone, expression shifting to that earnest look he uses when he wants something. "I came to bring you back. To finish this together like we planned."
Together. Like we're still a team. Like he didn't spend most of our partnership taking credit for my work and treating me like an assistant instead of a colleague.
"I'm not going back."
"Don't be ridiculous. This is your career. Our career." He gestures vaguely at the compound behind me. "You can't seriously be thinking about staying in this place. What even is this? Some kind of commune?"
"It's a home."
"It's the middle of nowhere." His voice takes on that condescending edge I'd forgotten about. "Come on, Maren. This isn't you. You're a documentarian. You're supposed to observe the world, not hide in it."
