A fresh layer of snow covered the wooden porch of the Perkins home in the quiet town of Jackson, Wyoming. The town was nestled at the foot of the mountains, which surrounded most of Jackson, immersing it in an ethereal feel, especially in the winter when everything was covered in snow.

Twenty-three-year-old Quinn Perkins glanced out the window at the front porch and sighed miserably. It was only November, but the snow had already started to cover Jackson, much to Quinn’s disappointment. Although living in the sleepy mountain town certainly had its advantages, the snow was not one of them. At least not for Quinn.

She had spent her younger years in sunny Florida with her mother, trying to avoid her father, who was not a very clean-cut, law-abiding person. After he was sent to prison—again—a few months after Quinn’s sixteenth birthday, her mother packed up and left their home in Miami Beach and moved them across the country, away from her father and, to Quinn’s dismay, the heat.

Admittedly, Jackson was not as bad as Quinn made it out to be. The people in town were friendly, helpful, and very welcoming when they first arrived. Normally, small towns were very protective of their territory, frowning upon the idea of strangers invading their home, but Quinn and her mother were welcomed with open arms. Their house was nothing extravagant, as her mother was a school teacher at Colter Elementary School, but Quinn had come to love it, as did her mother.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Quinn heard her mother ask from the kitchen.

She turned around with a sigh and said, “It snowed last night.”

“Did it?” her mother asked absentmindedly as she made a pot of coffee.

“Yeah, it’s cold and awful.”

Her mother chuckled at her disapproving and irritated tone and glanced at her. “It’s just snow, Quinn.”

“Maybe to you. You don’t have to drive to the other side of town like I do,” Quinn muttered.

“You’re exaggerating.”

“You always say that,” Quinn said and crossed her arms.

“You always exaggerate,” her mother shrugged.

“You’re being mean.”

“I’m allowed,” her mother said. “Coffee?”

“No, thanks. I have to get going,” Quinn said as she picked up her backpack and swung it over her shoulder. “I have a snow-filled obstacle course to get through.”

“Grab the tent from the closet. You might need it,” her mother laughed, and Quinn rolled her eyes.

“You are so not funny.”

“Bye, honey! Have a great day,” her mother said with a bright smile.

Quinn shook her head and gave her mother a wave before heading out the door to her car.

The black truck that stood in the driveway may not have been the prettiest car Quinn had ever owned, but it was durable and made driving in the snow so much easier and faster. It wasn’t love at first sight for Quinn; rather a slow transition into a love-hate relationship. The truck was temperamental, regardless of how many times Quinn had taken it to the shop.

“Your truck just has a strong personality, and all you can do is just deal with it and be nice to him,” Joe, the mechanic, had told her time and time again.

The drive through town to the community college she attended had Quinn reflecting on her life, as she did every single morning. She had come to the conclusion that she was not made for small-town living. She missed the city, especially Miami, and she couldn’t wait to graduate and leave this place. Sure, it’d be sad to leave her mom behind… unless she could convince her to come along. She had dragged Quinn all the way here, so the least she could do was allow Quinn to drag her back again.

Quinn stopped in the parking lot and climbed out of her truck. She made her way to the main building, where her first class was, and as she walked through the door, her best friend, Carla, ambushed her with a totally unexpected hug.

“I am so glad you’re here!” Carla beamed.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Quinn retorted, glancing at her.

Carla had been Quinn’s best friend ever since she had arrived in Jackson. Their connection was deepened by the fact that Carla also came from a big city, New York, and was forced to join the community of small-town living when her father was transferred.

The two young women were quite the opposite in physical appearance. While Quinn was short, slim, and had dark brown hair with brown eyes, Carla was tall with blonde hair and blue eyes. Their interests were similar, but Carla seemed more extroverted than Quinn, with a zero-bullshit tolerance and a rather foul mouth when given the opportunity.

“Why are you so excited to be here?” Quinn asked as they walked toward their first class. “Or that I’m here?”

“Do I have to have a reason to be happy to see my best friend?” Carla asked with a pout.

“I guess not.”

“I tried calling you last night, but the line made this really weird sound.”

“My phone’s been acting up a bit lately,” Quinn said with a frown. “Maybe it’s time for a new one.”

“Maybe. It sucks not being able to talk to you.”

Quinn smiled and placed her arm around Carla’s shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere soon, so you’re kind of stuck with me.”

“Yay!” Carla cheered as they entered their first class.

Fifteen minutes into the lecture, Quinn felt her phone vibrating in her pocket, and she inconspicuously took it out. Mr. Donovan had a strict policy of not allowing anyone to use their phones in class, and he’d been known to confiscate them in the blink of an eye.

Quinn glanced briefly at her phone and frowned. For a second, the screen flickered like a television set in a horror movie, and before she could do anything, it was gone.

“Miss Perkins.” Quinn glanced up and saw that Mr. Donovan looked at her from the front of the class. “Can you name the three steps of memory processing?”

“Sure,” she answered. She shifted in her seat, slipping her phone back into her pocket. “Encoding, storage, and retrieval.”

“Very good. So you were paying attention,” he said.

“Of course, Mr. Donovan.”

“Moving on,” he said and turned back to the blackboard, where a detailed brain was drawn with chalk.

Quinn pursed her lips as she sighed a breath of relief. She secretly thanked her eidetic memory and lowered her gaze to where her phone was safely tucked in her pocket. Maybe it was time for a new phone after all.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the guys in her class briefly looking at her before turning his attention back to the textbook in front of him. She shook off the strange feeling inside her and focused all her energy on listening to Mr. Donovan. The last thing she wanted was to be distracted from her main goal: graduating and getting the hell out of Jackson.

Later that afternoon, after her classes were done for the day, Quinn drove into town to pick up a few things her mother had texted her to get. Her mother was tied up at school and wouldn’t be home until much later. Of course, Quinn agreed. Not that she could’ve said no, but she enjoyed being out and about in town. As much as she liked the house they lived in, she wasn’t the type of person who enjoyed being cooped up inside, even when it snowed. Besides, she was hanging out with Carla later, and she wouldn’t have time to help her mother.

As she loaded the bags into her truck, she saw the guy who had been staring at her in class.

Honestly, she couldn’t believe she had never noticed him before because of his rugged good looks. He had a mop of thick dark brown hair, a chiseled jawline and mysterious eyes that captivated her. He looked as though he belonged in a boyband, not in a community college in the heart of Wyoming. He was stylishly dressed in dark jeans, trendy sneakers, and a light grey sweater. She locked her truck and walked over to him.

“Hey, I know you,” Quinn said with a smile.

He turned to her, and when his eyes met hers, Quinn felt like she was struck by lightning. He had the most beautiful and brightest blue eyes she had ever seen. They were luminous, like the crystal-clear water she remembered so fondly from Miami Beach.

“Excuse me?” he asked, his voice a lot deeper than she had anticipated.

“I know you,” Quinn repeated, tucking her long fringe behind her ear.

“No, you don’t,” he answered with a frown.

“I do. I saw you in my Psych 205 class, with Mr. Donovan. I saw you watching me today.”

“That doesn’t mean you know me.”

She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “You know what I mean.”

“Actually, I don’t.”

“I’m Quinn,” she said, holding out her hand to him.

He glanced at her outstretched hand with a frown and pursed his lips, like he was either too scared or too repulsed to shake it.

“And you are?” Quinn asked.

“Late for something,” he said simply, turned on his heel, and walked in the opposite direction.

Quinn could only stare at him as he walked away, shaking her head to herself in disbelief. “Rude,” she muttered, “but hot, which is still totally not an excuse to be rude.”

She swirled around and came face to face with Carla, who asked, “Who were you talking to?”

“Hey!” Quinn greeted her. “What are you doing here?”

“Small town,” Carla responded. “What are you doing here?”

“I picked up some things for my mom.”

“I see. So, who were you talking to?” she repeated.

Quinn turned around and managed to see the distant figure of the boy she’d talked to.

“That guy over there,” she said, motioning toward him. “He’s in one of our classes.”

Carla glanced at the guy, who was already across the street, and then turned her attention to Quinn, her expression set in a frown. “You shouldn’t be talking to him.”

“He wasn’t really chatty, anyway,” Quinn said, shrugging her shoulders. “He was actually kind of a jerk.”

“Is that why your cheeks are all flushed and you’re breathing like you just ran a marathon?” Carla asked, placing her hands on her hips.

Quinn’s eyes widened. She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling more blood rush to her face in embarrassment. “Yes, because every girl dreams of being rejected by the hot guy who couldn't wait to get away from her,” she muttered. “Who is he, anyway?”

“That’s River Wylde.”

“Seriously? His name is River Wylde?” Quinn asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, his mom was probably a hippie or something,” said Carla with a shrug.

“So why should I not talk to him?”

“There’s just something off about him. He’s weird.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “So, I shouldn’t talk to him because he’s weird? Isn’t that a little presumptuous, Carla?”

“No,” Carla answered sternly. “He hangs out with this group of guys who are equally as hot and rude as he is. They’re creepy, too. They follow him around like he’s their leader or something. They’re known to disappear into the woods for days on end, especially when it’s the full moon. Then you don’t see them in town at all.”

“Maybe they’re werewolves,” Quinn said nonchalantly, and she turned away.

“You shouldn’t joke about things like that, Quinn!” Carla called after her.

“Come on, Carla!” Quinn replied over her shoulder. “Everybody knows there are no such things as werewolves. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Look, I know you’re still new in town and all—” Carla started to say.

“I’ve been here for seven years,” Quinn interjected, rolling her eyes.

“But there are weird things going on here!” Carla said, ignoring Quinn’s comment.

“Like werewolves?” she asked sardonically.

Carla threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. “Fine! Don’t believe me. Just don’t come crying to me when you get chased through the woods by a ravenous wolf who wants to sex you up against a tree.”

“That is gross and disturbing,” Quinn told her. “Changing the subject now. Where do you want to meet up tonight?”

“I was actually thinking maybe we could skip dinner?” Carla said, her expression shifting to one of discomfort, like she was cringing. “I… sort of have a date.”

Quinn glanced at her, her brow furrowing as she narrowed her eyes in disgust. She felt a bit betrayed by her best friend ditching her for a guy, and she made sure to let Carla know with the look on her face.

Carla ran her hands through her blonde hair and shook her head. “No, you’re right, I’m going to cancel. I’m going to call him right now.”

Quinn’s frown was overcome by a smile, and she couldn’t help laughing slightly.

“You do that,” she said, glancing down at her watch. “I have to get home. My mom is expecting me.”

“I’ll text you, later,” Carla said and fished her phone out of her jacket front pocket. “Your phone is working, right?”

“Sort of,” Quinn replied. “Speaking of which, it did something really weird in class today. You know how televisions flicker in movies before a ghost or demon jumps out and kills everyone?”

“Yeah?” Carla answered hesitantly.

“Well, mine did that in class today. First it vibrated, and then the screen flickered, but it was only for a second, and then it was gone.”

“Oh, god,” Carla groaned, running a hand down her face. “We’re all going to die at the hands of the demon living in your phone.”

“First werewolves and now a demon-possessed phone?” Quinn laughed. “Come on, Carla. That sounds like a badly written, low-budget horror movie.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Maybe we should do a horror movie marathon tonight instead,” Quinn suggested with a grin.

“Dinner it is,” Carla said as she shook her head. “I’ll text you.”

“Bye, Carla. Watch out for the werewolves!” she called out as Carla walked away from her and crossed the street.

Quinn chuckled to herself as she walked back to her truck and climbed inside. Just as she was about to stick the key in the ignition, she noticed someone standing at the traffic lights on the other side of the road, staring directly at her.

River Wylde.

Shivers ran down her spine, and she hesitated for a second, looking at him. There was something about him that appealed to her so much, but it also made the warning bells in her head sound louder than they ever had.

She shook her head, breaking eye contact with him, and started her truck. She drove home, still somehow feeling his gaze on her, though she was too afraid to even look in the rearview mirror.