Page 3 of Howling Night

“Huh,” I said, glancing back at the house and then up to the sky. “It must just go to the lake.”

Curiosity overcame caution. I followed the trail into the woods, the temperature dropping slightly under the canopy of leaves. The setting sun filtered through in golden shafts, illuminating patches of ferns and wildflowers.

The path curved gently downhill. I filled my lungs with the fresh air, feeling a strange calmness as I walked through nature.

The trail forked unexpectedly, one path continuing downward to the lake, one veering to the left, and the other to the right, deeper into the woods.

I paused at the junction as the light from the sun faded faster. I hadn’t brought my phone, and getting lost in unfamiliar woods on my first night in town wouldn’t be the fresh start I was hoping for.

Before I could choose a path, I heard distant voices. It sounded like a heated discussion. An argument.

My eyes narrowed. “What the hell?”

ChapterTwo

I stepped toward the voices, carefully placing each foot to avoid twigs and dried leaves. The path became slightly narrower, winding between a large oak and a tall birch that gleamed pale in the dimming light.

The voice grew more distinct. Male voices. Angry voices.

This wasn’t what I signed up for. I came to Birchwood Hollow for peace and quiet… for safety, not to wander into the middle of some confrontation in the middle of the woods on my first night in town.

I hesitated, then made an abrupt decision. I needed to go back for my phone. If this were something serious, something I didn’t want near my property, I’d need to call the police.

I turned toward my house, but paused before taking a single step. Curiosity won out, and instead of going back to the house, I crept closer to take a better look at what I was dealing with. The last thing I wanted was to bother the cops and be known as a pest. I’d lived in Chicago and never once had to call the police.

As I got closer, I positioned myself behind a thick tree trunk and peered out into a small clearing. Two men stood face to face — only inches apart — backlit by the darkening sky.

They were both big, muscular men, well over six feet tall with broad shoulders. One had a full beard, neatly trimmed, and the other had short, dark brown hair. The man with the beard wore a red flannel shirt, making him look like a lumberjack in the middle of the woods.

“You’re making a mistake,” the bearded man growled, his voice deep and authoritative. “We have boundaries for a reason.”

“They need our help,” the dark-haired man shot back. “We can’t just?—”

“You’re not thinking clearly,” the bearded man said, poking his finger into the man’s chest. “We have to protect our brothers first and foremost. Remember your place.”

The dark-haired man shoved the bearded man hard. His eyes glimmered, almost glowed, a brilliant amber. “They were our family once, Ryder, were they not?”

“That was a long time ago,” the bearded man, Ryder, said through his teeth. “Why are you fighting me on this?”

“I’m sick of it, Ryder. I’m sick of all of it,” the dark-haired man spat. “I didn’t ask for this life. I want out.”

The dark-haired man took a step back, running his hand through his short hair as he stared at Ryder. He shook his head before lunging forward, knocking the slightly bigger man to the ground.

“You’re going to regret that,” Ryder roared, his voice dropping to something almost inhuman. “Don’t you see I’m trying to protect all of us?”

“Screw you,” the dark-haired man said, spitting on the ground near where Ryder was pushing himself back to his feet. “And screw the pack. I’m done.”

Ryder brushed himself off. “Take it back while you still can.”

None of their argument made any sense to me. It sounded like they were talking in some kind of code. My stomach dropped. I hadn’t left Chicago to find myself in the middle of rural gang disputes.

Ryder glanced up at the sky, and I followed his gaze. I hadn’t realized how quickly darkness had fallen, and the only thing lighting the surroundings was a bright, low-hanging moon.

“I’ll give you a minute to think this through,” Ryder said, his eyes glued to the dark-haired man. “You know what happens if you want to leave.”

“I know what it means and I don’t care,” the dark-haired man said, jerking abruptly. His body contorted in a strange and unnatural way. His shoulders hunched, and his head dropped forward as a guttural sound escaped from his throat.

From the trees behind him, three enormous wolves emerged, and I blinked hard to be certain I wasn’t seeing things. They were massive — nothing like pictures I’d seen. Their shoulders rose higher than my hip would stand, and their eyes gleamed with an unsettling intelligence.

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