I need answers. And I think they'll be at the bonfire tonight.
I closed the notebook and tucked it carefully under my mattress. The moon was higher now, casting long shadows across my bedroom floor. In less than two hours, I'd be sneaking out to meet Bolton.
What waited for me at Stone Mountain, I couldn't say. But one thing was certain, I wasn't the only one keeping secrets in this town.
Chapter 6
Bolton
Ilean against my truck's hood, parked just off the trailhead that leads into the thick woods behind my family's land. From here, I can already hear them, the steady pulse of low drums echoing like a second heartbeat beneath the trees. Smoke curls into the crisp night air, scented with cedar and burnt sage. Sparks float skyward from the bonfire, drifting like golden fireflies before vanishing into the darkness.
The full moon hangs low and heavy above the tree line, its light so bright it flattens the forest into silhouettes. It coats the world in cold fire, making everything appear unnaturally sharp. My skin prickles in response. My wolf stirs beneath the surface, pacing just behind my rib cage, claws scratching for escape.
He knows something’s coming. We both do.
Not just the usual pre-ceremony tension, though that’s always there, thrumming through the pack like static. No, this is different. My wolf is coiled tight, ears flat, tail low, not in submission, but in readiness.
Anticipation.
A raw, electric edge that tastes like metal on my tongue.
Hunger.
Not for food. Not for blood. For truth. For something primal I can’t explain, not even to myself. My wolf wants her. Craves the bondthat’s waiting just out of reach. And not just for her scent or the way her voice lingers in my head long after she’s gone.
He wants to know if she’s one of us.
I rub the edge of my palm against my jaw, eyes scanning the trailhead for movement. My heart pounds as if I’ve already run a mile.
I check the time: 8:48 p.m.
Dax appears from the tree line, already halfway shifted, the way he prefers it for these things. He flicks his gaze toward me, then nods, wordlessly falling into step beside me as I open the driver’s door.
“She really said yes?” he asks, his voice low and taut.
“She’s waiting at the corner now.”
“You sure about this?” he asks, tone careful. “Once she sees who we are, what this is, there’s no walking it back.”
“No,” I say. “There isn’t.”
He studies me for a long second. “You always said you’d never bring someone to the bonfire unless you were certain. So, are you?”
I hesitate.
Am I certain?
Her scent still lingers in my hoodie from the time I brushed past her in Biology. The way her eyes tracked mine in the hallway, confused but curious, like some part of her already knew. And that moment in the cafeteria when Cassie made her usual passive-aggressive jab and Maya didn’t flinch. That girl has a fire in her she doesn’t even realize. It’s not just attraction. It’s something more. It’s recognition.
“I’m sure,” I say, my voice firm.
Dax grunts. “Then I guess we’re doing this.”
I pull onto the road leading toward her street. Just shy of nine, I see her waiting beneath the single flickering streetlamp, hands tucked in her hoodie pockets, hair braided to the side in a way that makes something in my chest stutter.
I slow the truck to a stop, and she slides into the passenger seat without a word. For a moment, we just sit there in silence, listening to the low rumble of the engine and the crickets buzzing outside.
Her profile is sharp in the moonlight, jaw set, eyes forward, but I don’t miss the way her hands are clenched in her lap, white-knuckled against the fabric of her jeans. She's trying to project calm, but her body betrays her. Every limb is wound tight, like she’s bracing for impact. I wonder if she knows what she’s walking into, what she might awaken tonight.
