I woke up in a bed of rose-covered sheets, to the smell of something amazing wafting under my nose.

“Rise and shine, dear,” a kindly voice said. “Your wolf-men will be back any moment.”

As my eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight streaming in the window behind her, it took me a moment to recognise the kindly black-haired woman who’d taken me in last night. As soon as she’d got me inside, Clara had made me a cup of herbal tea and ushered me up to bed. I’d expected not to sleep a wink, worried about Caleb out there in the forest, but as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out.

It must’ve been some tea.

Now, Clara was standing in front of me holding a tray bursting with dishes. I rubbed my eyes and stared at the feast she’d laid out for me. A gourmet bacon butty on seedy wholemeal bread, covered in what looked like some thick homemade chutney. A lemon tart, the top glistening with a beautiful chocolate lattice, and a long doughnut dusted with icing sugar and bursting with fresh cream and jam. A fresh pot of tea and a beautiful rose cup and saucer waited on the edge. She’d even put a sprig of herbs into a tiny vase.

“Is that for me?” I gushed. “Thank you. I’ll definitely stay in this hotel again.”

Clara set the tray down over my knees, fussing with the curtains on the window. “The first thing you need to know about living in Crookshollow is that Bewitching Bites bakery is the only place you need go if you’re ever in need of a sweet treat.”

“I’ll remember that.” I picked up the cream doughnut and took a huge bite. Cream and jam spurted out the sides of my mouth, and I wiped them away with an embroidered napkin Clara handed to me.

“You slept well?” she asked.

I nodded, my mouth full of cream.

“Good. I see my tea did some good, then.”

“Your … tea?” I set the doughnut down, feeling suddenly suspicious.

“Yes, dear. The tea I gave you last night was a powerful sleep draught. I ground the herbs myself.”

“You … drugged me.”

“Heavens, no!” Clara patted my shoulder. “I just made sure you didn’t spend all night worrying about your wolf. I was worried about you. We all were.” She leaned close, her eyes glinting. “That Caleb is a very nice young man, and rather handsome too, wouldn’t you say?”

I swallowed another mouthful, grinning at her despite myself. “He’s available, you know. If you’re in the market.”

She chuckled, pausing on her way out the door. “Oh, I don’t think he’s available at all. When you’re up and dressed, come down and meet my sons.”

I finished off the bacon butty, cream doughnut and half the lemon tart, drowned the tea, and hunted around for my clothes. Clara had folded up my jeans, shirt, and jacket at the end of the bed. I lifted them to my nose. They smelled of lemon and grapefruit. How had she washed and dried them so fast?

I remembered that Caleb had said she was a witch. But that’s ridiculous. Witches don’t exist. That’s just new age nonsense.

But then, I’d always assumed werewolves didn’t exist, and I’d been proved very, very wrong. And she did make me that tea, that definitely put me straight to sleep. Maybe Clara did have some magical powers. If she’d used them to ensure I had clean laundry, that was the kind of witchcraft I could get behind.

My phone on the nightstand beeped. Smiling to myself, I picked it up and clicked on the message icon, expecting something from Caleb. My smile froze when I read the anonymous message.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. The phone clattered to the floor. I surveyed the room. Was someone hiding in here? Someone … or some wolf?

My gaze fell on the window. I could see it was tightly latched, and it looked out over Clara’s sloped roof, down onto her tiny back garden below, and the towering forest beyond that. There was no one out there, and no evidence anyone – or any wolf – had been there.

My phone beeped again. With shaking hands I read the next message.

My skin crawled. I felt eyes boring into me, watching my every move. But that was impossible. Who was watching me?

Sucking in a breath, I silently lowered my head over the edge of the bed, and yanked up the cover. I let out my breath when I saw there was nothing underneath except a couple of mothballs and a squeaky mouse cat toy.

I slid out of bed and threw open the narrow closet. No, no one there, either.

It’s just those wolves trying to scare you. But Caleb said he was taking care of them … did he not succeed? Is he out there, injured somewhere? Are the wolves planning to attack me the minute I leave Clara’s cottage?

My stomach twisted with fear. I studied the tree line. Something flickered in the corner of my eye. Was that something moving between the trees? It could’ve been a bird, or the wind …

A cold shiver ran down my spine. My hands shook. I hate this. I hate feeling so exposed all the time.

My hands started to shake, and the panicked feeling rose through my chest, consuming all of me. My head swam. My ears rang. No, please, no. Don’t have a panic attack here.

My head pounded, and a wave of nausea swept over me. I sat on the floor, wrapping my arms around myself, focusing on steadying my breathing, until the sickening feeling faded.

This is silly. You’re just overreacting. There’s no one here. It’s just Caleb’s brothers, trying to scare you. Caleb will be here soon, and everything will be okay.

I got up slowly, my head still spinning, and pulled on my fresh clothing. That done, I padded downstairs, following the sound of masculine voices. I had to twist and flatten myself against the walls to avoid knocking over any of Clara’s precariously perched knickknacks with my ass. Every spare inch of space was crowded with candles, crystals, statuettes, photo frames, jars of herbs and other unknown substances, and all manner of strange objects.

Even following the voices, it took me two wrong turns before I located the kitchen. The room was exactly how one would expect a witch’s kitchen to look – shelves lined with mason jars filled with dried herbs. More sprigs of herbs and strings of garlic hanging from racks over the bench. Every surface crammed with lopsided, colourful ceramic bowls and plates and cups, and a large black cauldron sat on a dedicated shelf above the aga stove. I loved it instantly. It reminded me a little of the tiny kitchen and small wood-burner in my old cottage.

No. Don’t think of that now. I was already fragile enough.

Clara stood behind the stove, stirring a pot of beans. Eggs and sausages sizzled in a pan beside her, and a tray of freshly-baked shortbread sat cooling on the windowsill. I half expected to see little birds darting around the kitchen, stirring the pots and popping toast in the toaster.

Two men sat at the table, each with muscles bulging from the sleeves of their tight t-shirts. The one nearest to me flicked a lock of pitch-black hair from his eyes, and smiled up at me. He had flecks of coloured paint all over his clothes and forearms. The other one – a blond with dark stubble across his chin – was frantically tearing into a huge stack of bacon sandwiches.

Clara beamed as she turned from the stove. “These are my sons. Ryan.” She placed a hand on the black-haired man’s shoulder. “And Marcus.” The blond nodded at me, his mouth full of bacon.

“Hi.” I sat down, and Clara placed a huge plate in front of me. My stomach protested, already full from the breakfast I’d eaten in my room. “I didn’t see either of you when I came in last night.”

“We were outside,” Ryan said. “We’ve been guarding the house from those wolves.”

“Did you see or hear anything?” I tried to keep my voice casual, as the words on the text message flashed across my memory.

Ryan shook his head. “Apart from a man walking down the street earlier this morning, the place has been completely deserted. We didn’t smell any wolves nearby, either. I’m pretty sure you’re safe.”

“Thank you.” I pointed to the splatters on his arm. “What’s that about?”

“Oh …” Ryan looked down at himself, as though he’d only just noticed. It was then I saw he had flecks in his long eyelashes. “Yes, that. I’m a painter. It kind of comes with the territory.”

“I’m very used to Ryan splattering around all sorts of colours around the place,” Clara said, as she set down a plate in front of her son.

“Oh, you paint houses?” That must be how he got all those impressive muscles. He looked like a manual labour kind of guy.

Marcus snorted. Ryan grinned. I guessed I was missing some kind of joke.

“I must say, Rosa. I think you’re handling this all rather well.” Clara poured tea for all of us. “It’s always interesting to see how people react when they find out shifters are real. Ryan’s girl Alex was pretty level-headed, all things considered, but your Kylie had a bit of a panic about it, didn’t she, love?”

“She’s fine,” Marcus growled, stealing a butty from Ryan’s plate.

“If you do have any questions, we’re happy to answer them. Your wolf has probably been too busy running around after your attackers to have a good talk about it.”

“Oh, thank you.” I toyed with the handle of my cup. “I guess … I’m a little curious about one particular thing. From what Caleb’s told me, there are plenty of other shifters living in England, not to mention all over the world. You’re not supernatural demons, but a real species, effectively a minority with rights like anyone else. So why do you live in secret? No one should have to hide who they are. You could have politicians fighting for your rights, and celebrate your heMargaretge, and educate humans about shifter society—”

“You have a very rosy view of humankind’s capacity for dealing with something as different as shifters,” Ryan explained. “We may not be supernatural, but to most people, we’re demons. All the myths and legends throughout history about shapeshifters came from times when we did not live in secret, and our races were hunted down and killed because of what we are and what we represent. Near-extinction tends to make one a little camera-shy.”

“I know a little about what that feels like,” I said, staring at my black fingers wrapped around my cup.

“I don’t doubt you do,” Ryan said, his voice gentle. “Unfortunately, fighting for equality is the least of our problems. There are many shifters who want to end this vow of silence. Most of them are either mad or dangerous, or both. There was one such wolf here last year, by the name of Isengrim. His idea was to unite all the rogue shifters – those are shifters who don’t have a pack of their own – into one great pack. Then, he would use a public event to shift into his wolf form and attack a prominent shifter, forcing that shifter to reveal his own identity as Isengrim killed him. His idea was that once the world knew we existed, he would already have demonstrated his power for all to see, and with his pack behind him, he would be the ultimate leader. It had nothing to do with what was good for shifters, but about how much power Isengrim could keep for himself.”

“So you believe you should remain underground?”

“I do,” Ryan said. “But then, I prefer to be on my own, hiding away in my house. I don’t want people beating down the door asking for interviews or wanting me to go on TV. They do that enough as it is.”

“They do?”

Ryan ignored my question. “If there was ever a really solid case for it, a case that didn’t support some megalomaniac, I would possibly support it. There’s a lot of crime that goes on in the shifter world, a lot of territorial disputes that result in fatalities. When you’re invisible, you can do whatever you want without consequence, like kidnapping people’s mothers and terrorising innocent women.”

I turned to Marcus. “And you?”

“Why should we hide?” Marcus said, his mouth full of sandwich. “I want to stand. If we were free, then it wouldn’t be pureblood shifters like Ryan dictating how everyone was treated.”

“I don’t dictate anything.”

“You don’t disagree, though, do you?”

“You can’t help what you are, Marcus. But that does come with certain issues that have to be controlled, or else you’re a danger—”

Marcus shot me a look. “They said the same thing about segregation, didn’t they? Even among shifters there are outcasts, don’t forget that.”

I remembered that Marcus was a mutt, whatever that really meant. I wanted to ask him more about it, but he seemed so agitated, I didn’t want to risk further setting him off.

“So is shifter society a bit like the wizarding world in Harry Potter? Do you have your own schools and newspapers and weird sporting tournaments?”

The front door banged. “Honey, I’m home.”

Caleb. He’s okay!

My curiosity forgotten, I leapt from my seat and darted into the hall. I was so desperate to see him, I accidentally upset a bowl of crystals on the stand by the door.

“Oops.” My face flushed red as tiny rocks skittered across the floor. A black cat leapt out from under the table and started batting them around.

“Don’t worry about that, dear.” Clara hunched over and started collecting the rocks. “Go see your wolf.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice. I bounded into the hall, where Caleb and Luke were pulling on their shirts over their bare chests. I fell into Caleb’s arms, placing my hands against his skin, breathing in the woody, earthy scent of him. That grin of his melted my heart, and I realised how much I’d been worried that he wouldn’t come back, especially since I’d received that text message. Caleb started to say something, but I pressed my lips to his, drowning out his words with my tongue.

“Now that’s what I call a greeting,” Caleb said, pulling away slightly to look at me. “You okay?”

“As okay as could be expected. I think you’re right about Clara being a witch. She drugged me, and now she’s trying to fatten me up, probably so I’ll taste better in a pie.”

“I think you’d taste delicious in a pie.” He nibbled on my lip.

“That’s the way to a girl’s heart – cannibalism jokes.” I stroked his cheek. “Seriously, though, are you okay? Did you find them?”

“We found them all right,” Caleb said, his voice dark. “They’ve been holed up in an abandoned cabin only a few miles from yours.”

“Did they—”

“Caleb, Clara’s made food!” Luke’s voice called from the kitchen.

“Great. I’m starving.”

“Hence the cannibalism.” I dropped his hand and led him into the kitchen, where Luke was already deep in conversation with Ryan. Clara shoved Caleb down into a seat and set a cup of tea and a pile of butties and sausages in front of him, but he didn’t move to take them.

“We took them by surprise,” Luke was saying as he shovelled down a mouthful of egg. “There was a hole in the roof of the shack, so Caleb climbed up there, while I went around the front and lured Robbie out. Caleb sank his teeth right into Angus’ neck—”

“You didn’t kill him, did you?” As much as I hated Angus for what he was trying to do to me and Caleb, I didn’t want Caleb to be responsible for killing his brother.

“No. We just convinced them it would be in their best interests to leave our territory,” Luke said. He turned to each person at the table in turn. “Caleb may have implied that he had a whole pack here ready to defend Rosa if they had to.”

“Why would you do that?” I glanced at Caleb in surprise. “What if they come back? You don’t have a whole pack. It’s just you and Luke.”

“Correction.” Ryan set down his fork. “There’s a few more of us than that.”

Caleb looked at Ryan with an expression I can only describe as awe. “Really?”

“Really. If you’ll have us.” Ryan wiped his mouth. “I’ve decided I’m through hiding away for now. I’ve got Alex to think about, and whether I like it or not, she wants to be out in the world, and that means many eyes are on us. I don’t want to be trapped and I want to know I have friends I can count on if anyone like Isengrim threatens her again. Marcus and I have already discussed it. If you Lowe boys will have us, we’d love to help you keep Crookshollow safe from the likes of the Macleans.”

“And me too, dear,” Clara said, setting down a second plate of bacon in front of Marcus.

“You mean, we need to keep Crookshollow safe from you?” Ryan grinned.

Clara clapped him around the ears. “I mean, if you’ll take an old witch with a gammy hip in your pack, I’d love to help in any way I can.”

Caleb was beaming. He turned to me, as though he was expecting me to add my voice to the mix. I’m in, Caleb. I’ll be your mate. I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t make the words come out.

It felt too much like commitment – saying I was willing to be something to him, and he was something to me, and I just couldn’t do it. The words didn’t exist yet. They had burned up in the fire with Lennox, carried away by the winds with the ashes of my life.

I bent my head, chewing on a loose piece of bacon, feeling Caleb’s eyes burning into my skull. I’m sorry. I wish I could be with you, but I’m too scared.

An uncomfortable silence descended, which everyone tried to fill with chewing. I jiggled my foot nervously, wishing I could make a run for it and not have to sit here being the only one who wasn’t in it.

“You boys look awful,” Clara scolded, grabbing Luke’s arm and indicating a long cut along his bicep. Nice one, Clara.

“Way to stroke a man’s ego,” Luke shot back.

“Ryan, get my first aid kit.” The red-haired man got up, and rummaged through the kitchen cupboards, before planting a large wooden box down on the table. Clara opened it and I peered inside, expecting to see bandages, saline, and paracetamol. Instead, rows of glass vials stood in perfect rows, and a small mortar and pestle were nestled into the corner.

Clara selected several vials, dumping the contents into the mortar. She mumbled to herself as she worked, though I wasn’t sure if I recognised any words. She pulled an oil decanter off the shelf above the stove, added a couple of drops, and then proceeded to crush the herbs together with short, deft twists. She smeared the resulting paste on Luke’s cuts.

“Thanks a lot.” Luke wrinkled his nose. “Now I smell like a stew.”

“Stop your complaining.” Clara moved around the table. “It’s your cousin’s turn.”

Caleb leaned back and tugged down the collar of his shirt so Clara could apply the cream to the cuts across his chest. His eyes met mine, and I caught a flash of pain. I knew I was the cause of that pain.

I’m sorry, Caleb. I really am.

The pain was gone in a flash, replaced by Caleb’s wicked smile and sparkling gaze. He looked down at the cuts on his shoulder, the lines crisscrossing the nearly healed bite marks from his first altercation with Angus. “Don’t look so worried, Rosa. Werewolves heal quickly, especially if they’re covered with Clara’s special bouquet garni. Trust me, Angus looks way worse.”

“You mean they’re gone for good?” The text message flashed before my eyes again.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Caleb said. “But they won’t be back any time soon, and it will take them some days to return to Aberdeen with additional muscle.”

I reached into my pocket and closed my fingers around my phone, the message burning in my eyes. I opened my mouth to tell him about the text, but something stopped me. I glanced around the table at this happy family of shifters, and I realised that I didn’t want them all to know. I didn’t want to say the words “black bitch” in front of Clara and Ryan and have them believe it. Besides, it was just Angus, trying to get to me since Caleb sent him packing. I resolved to tell Caleb as soon as we were alone, but for now, there wasn’t any reason to draw attention to it. I dropped the phone back into my pocket, and reached for my lukewarm tea.

I realised Caleb was talking “—in the meantime, I think we should try to find out exactly why the Bairds want me.”

“How do we do that?” I asked, trying to bring myself back into the conversation.

“You don’t do anything,” Caleb said. “You go to your cabin, and work on your book. You’ve already been inconvenienced enough with all this drama. Let me and the pack handle it.” There was a hardness in his voice that hadn’t been there earlier.

“You mean, my cabin is safe now? I don’t have to share it with everyone?”

Caleb nodded. “Luke and I even checked it out on the way over here, just in case they’d left some kind of trap. But it’s fine. We’ll keep an eye on you from a distance. You should be able to get a ton of work done.”

“Thank you. Thank you, all of you.” I looked around the table, at all these people who hardly knew me, yet who had risked their lives and their home to keep me safe. A lump rose in my throat. What I would’ve given to have people like this in my life back in Old Garsmouth.

And Caleb … what if I had met him last year, before Sam walked into the office, before my life got completely messed up. I shook off the thought. You didn’t meet him then, you met him now. And you have to deal with what that means.

“You’re welcome.” Ryan beamed.

“Yeah,” Caleb said, an edge on his voice. I glanced up at him, but he looked away.

* * *

We stayed at Clara’s house for another couple of hours, chatting around the table like old friends. Well, the boys chatted, and Clara bustled around with yet more food. I mostly sipped tea and listened. I didn’t feel much like talking.

Caleb walked me back to the car. My stomach knotted. I felt his disappointment seeping off him, dissipating the special energy that usually sizzled between us. He opened the door, and as I turned to get in, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close.

“Hey.” He wiped away a strand of hair that had escaped from my bun. His eyes were kind again, but sad.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I know what you were asking back there, but I just can’t—”

“It’s okay, Rosa.”

“It’s not, though. You’ve been so kind to me, Caleb. You only met me four days ago, and you’ve turned your whole life upside down to protect me. And all the others … they don’t even … they can’t … and yet they’re …” The lump rose higher. I gulped, dangerously close to losing it. “I don’t feel like I deserve it.”

“Dear Rosa.” Caleb kissed my eyelids. “Of course you deserve it. Everyone deserves to feel safe, to live a peaceful life without a crazy wolf trying to kidnap them. Even if I didn’t feel for you … what I feel, I would still be protecting you, because what my stepbrothers are trying to do is wrong.”

I gulped again. A tear escaped the corner of my eye and slid down my cheek. Caleb kissed it away. The gesture was so simple, but the power of it made my whole chest ache.

“Come here.” He rested my head on his shoulder, his fingers playing in my hair. “One day, I hope you’ll trust me enough to tell me what has hurt you so bad, but in the meantime, don’t worry about me. Yes, I’m hurt you don’t want to be my mate, but—”

“It’s not that.” I sniffed, tears coming thick and fast now, staining the collar of Caleb’s shirt.

“It is that. You’re not ready. I’ll wait for you, Rosa. I’ll wait as long as you need. But sometimes, I’m allowed to be a little gutted you’re not ready now, okay? I’m not exactly known for my patience.”

I laughed, hiccuping into Caleb’s shoulder. God, I was a total mess.

“There’s that laugh I love so much.” Caleb’s arms slid away, and he studied my face with concern. “You gonna be okay up there on your own?”

I thought about the text message in my pocket, but decided not to bother him about it. “Yeah.” I smiled. “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll take you out to dinner. We could have an actual date, no homicidal werewolves or meddling pack-mates allowed.”

“I’d like that.” A date with Caleb. It sounded like such a wonderfully normal thing, and yet, totally and utterly magical.

I drove back to Margaret’s place. It felt odd to be stepping out of the car on my own, without my handsome wolfish escort. But this was exactly as it should be. Caleb had got rid of the threat, so I could be alone again.

Alone.

I stepped onto the path leading out to my cabin, glancing around the trees. My stomach tightened in knots. I started moving forward, at any moment expecting the wolves to jump out and attack me.

But none did.

Ahead of me, the familiar slope of my cabin’s roof became visible through the trees. The chairs were still set out on the porch, just as we’d left them. The beer bottles Luke and I (mostly Luke) had emptied stood in a row along the centre of the small table. I took out the key from my pocket and held it up. Dappled sunlight streaked through the trees and glinted off the metal. My cabin, the freedom I had bought from the evil that had been done to me.

Suddenly, I couldn’t wait to get back to my book.

I leapt up the steps, and thrust my key into the lock. I pushed the door open and scanned the room, checking for anyone – or anything – hiding inside. That SMS from this morning still had me a little freaked out, even though I knew it was just Angus, lashing out even as he was forced to retreat.

Satisfied my cabin was absolutely empty, I strolled in, slamming the door behind me. My laptop sat on the desk by the window, begging me for attention. I made a pot of tea, and sat down to write.

Today, the words flowed as they never had before. Armed with the knowledge that my wolfish pursuers were, for now, neutralised, and that Caleb was trying to be patient with me, I could slip back into the world of Old Garsmouth, and the person I was when I first encountered Sam Seymour.

The person I wished I could be with Caleb.

I wrote a flashback chapter, from Sam’s point of view, to the day he first saw me … er, Nellie … sitting at my desk in the accounting firm. How Nell had rebutted each of his lines with a witty retort, then lowered her eyes and smiled shyly when he’d finally asked her out. How he told his wife he had a business meeting in Leeds, and he would stay overnight in the city so as not to wake her and the kids. How he’d gone to pick up the young black girl and they gone out to an amazing Chinese restaurant, then fucked in a hotel room until the wee hours of the morning.

My fingers slammed against the keys, pounding them down harder and harder as the words came out, as I slipped right into Sam’s head and saw myself as he saw me – this exotic, flirtatious creature who made him feel young and intelligent and interesting. How he didn’t even think about his wife at home when he was with me.

I typed the final line of the scene:

I leaned back, stretching out my arms. It felt good to be making progress on this book. Maybe I did have what it took to be a writer. Maybe, if I told this story, I could help another young black girl who had fallen into the same trap that had captured me. Maybe if just one white person read it and rethought the things they said and did …

Could my book make a difference? Was that my future, to use words to fight for equality? I thought about what Ryan and Marcus had said, about the discrimination within the shifter community, about how they had to hide what they were, lest they became yet another minority fighting for justice …

Lest they become like me …

My tea had gone cold, so I made myself another cup. As I stood by the oven, trying to decide if it was an Earl Grey or English Breakfast moment, I heard an odd sound from outside. Sort of a whoosh, like air being let out of a tire.

I set down the tea box as silently as possible, and moved toward the door. My heart pounded. Blood roared in my ears, almost drowning out the whooshing sound that was absolutely, definitely coming from outside.

It’s just an animal. It’s some kind of bird call, or it could be a tree branch scraping against the side of the cabin—

The more I thought of logical explanations, the more I was certain the sound did not fit them at all. My stomach churned, and a familiar sick sensation rose through my chest. My hands started to shake uncontrollably.

No. This can’t be happening. Not here. Not in my beautiful cabin.

“Hello?” I croaked out, trying to push through the panic attack. “Is anyone there?”

The noise stopped. My heart was pounding so hard I thought for sure it would burst from my chest. Through the haze of my panic, I registered that if it was an intruder, I needed some kind of weapon. As silently as I could, I slid a knife from the chopping block, and held it in front of me. I grabbed the door handle.

One, two, three …

I yanked the door open, and rushed to the edge of the porch, looking both ways. I heard a crunch. Something raced from the corner of the cabin into the trees. I whirled around, catching a glimpse of a man in black cargo shorts and a black t-shirt racing into the trees.

Oh shit, oh shit.

“Hey,” I called out, with more bravado than I felt. My hand was shaking so hard, I nearly dropped the knife. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” I staggered down the steps, heading toward the trees where he’d disappeared. But it was no good. He had too much of a head start, and the trees were too thick. I’d already lost him, and I was never going to catch him in my current state.

But who was it? I hadn’t been able to get a good look at his face. It could’ve been Angus or Robbie, but the guy didn’t look big enough or muscled enough to be either of them. It had been hard to see, though – he’d moved so fast.

I turned back to the cabin, my heart racing. I’ll have to call Caleb, and see—

I let out a cry of surprise. The knife clattered from my hand, lost in the leaves.

There, scrawled across the side of my beautiful cabin in big, ugly letters the colour of blood, someone had spray-painted the message: