Page 1 of Caught

Chapter one

Evan

Evan sat on his worn-out couch, barely registering the flickering images on the television. The glow cast jagged shadows along the walls, making the small cabin feel even more claustrophobic.

Outside, the night was alive with distant howls—some sharp and frantic, others deep and resonant. They echoed through the woods like ghostly battle cries, reverberating in his chest.

His fingers tightened around his knees. The doors were locked. The windows were shut tight. He had no intention of stepping outside until dawn.

The annual werewolf mating run was in full swing.

And his house was right on the edge of the woods.

The town treated the annual hunt like some warped festival—one part tradition, one part spectacle. They gathered in groups, wrapped in thick jackets, boots crunching against frost-covered ground as they made their way to the edge of the woods. Somemuttered to themselves. Others simply watched, casting uneasy glances at the volunteers lining up at the boundary.

The tributes.

Humans who had chosen this. Who had signed their names on the agreement, accepted the terms, and would walk willingly into the forest for the night, knowing what waited for them.

Signing up for the run meant financial security for the rest of the year—enough money to lift struggling families out of debt, to pay off medical bills, to survive in a town where opportunities were scarce.

It was the price that werewolves paid to live among them the other eleven months of the year. A bargain struck generations ago.

And yet, despite the compensation, despite the supposed understanding, there was an unspoken truth: no human walked into that forest without fear.

Because once the hunt began, the wolves weren’t your friends and neighbors. They were something else entirely.

They were wild.

And once they chose a mate, there was no going back.

Evan had seen the proof of that himself.

The night had been similar to this one—cold, windless, the sky a canvas of silver and black. Evan had been younger then, too curious for his own good. He should have stayed away from the windows, like his mother had begged him to. Should have drawn the curtains, turned up the volume, drowned out the howls.

Instead, he had secretly pressed his face to his bedroom window, breath fogging the glass.

And he had seen the boy.

He'd come sprinting from the woods, wild-eyed and panting, his body a blur of motion beneath the harsh glow of Evan’s porch light. He couldn’t have been very old—maybe nineteen. Darkhair, lean frame, the kind of face that might have been handsome if it weren’t twisted in sheer, unfiltered panic.

And behind him—

A shadow in the trees.

If you stepped into the woods that night, you were supposed to stay there. Anyone who tried to flee would be met with swift punishment.

But the werewolf that night didn't care about meting out justice. He had something else on his mind.

He moved with a terrifying, unnatural grace, slipping through the moonlight like a living nightmare. He was tall, muscles rolling beneath his skin as he stalked forward. His eyes gleamed, catching the light, locked onto his prey with an intensity that made Evan’s stomach clench.

The escaping tribute's foot caught on something—from his own exhaustion, maybe, or sheer bad luck. He hit the ground hard, a cry tearing from his throat.

And then the werewolf was on him.

It was the only time Evan saw what happened in the woods, normally hidden away and only seen by the night's participants. He'd sucked in a breath, heart hammering so loud he thought it might shatter the windowpane.

He had expected carnage. Expected the beast to tear the boy apart, to maul him like the run's naysayers always claimed they did in hushed whispers and rumors.

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