I'm running through darkness, branches tearing at my skin, lungs burning with every desperate breath.
Something is behind me. Something massive, its paws thundering against the forest floor, getting closer with every heartbeat. I can hear it panting, smell its wild musk, feel its hunger like a physical weight pressing against my back.
Don't look. Don't look. If you look, it's real.
I look.
Golden eyes blaze in the darkness. A wolf the size of a horse, black fur swallowing the moonlight, teeth bared in a snarl that vibrates through my bones. It lunges—
I wake up gasping, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, my heart slamming against my ribs.
Just a dream. Just a nightmare.
But my hands won't stop shaking.
I sit up and press my palms against my eyes, waiting for the terror to fade. These dreams have haunted me since childhood, ever since my father started telling me his hunting stories.
He meant them as warnings, I think—cautionary tales about the dangers lurking in the wilderness. But to a little girl with too much imagination, they became something else entirely.
Wolves that stalked through shadows. Wolves with intelligence in their eyes. Wolves that watched and waited and hungered for something they couldn't name.
He told those stories like fairy tales, his voice dropping low in the firelight, and I'd hidden under my covers afterward, terrified that golden eyes were watching from my closet. Even now, twenty years later, the dreams still find me when I'm stressed or scared or somewhere unfamiliar.
And Silverpine Falls, for all its beauty, is definitely unfamiliar.
By the time I've showered and dressed, the afternoon sun hangs low over the mountains. The cabin feels too quiet, too full of dust and memories and the lingering echo of my nightmare. I need air. I need water. I need to remember that wolves are just animals and my father's stories were just stories.
I need the lake.
The memory surfaces unbidden—a hidden cove I discovered during one of those long-ago summers, accessible only by a narrow trail that most people didn't know existed. My mother used to take me there on hot afternoons. We'd swim until our fingers pruned and then lie on the rocks, letting the sun dry our skin while she told me about growing up in Silverpine Falls.
I wonder if I can still find it.
The trail is more overgrown than I remember, but my feet know the way. Twenty minutes of hiking, and then the trees open up to reveal a perfect crescent of water cupped between granite cliffs. Late afternoon light turns the surface to gold.
It's exactly as I remember.
I stand at the water's edge, breathing in the clean mineral smell, letting the peace of the place seep into my bones. No one else is here. No watching eyes, no whispered gossip, no mysterious men with too-intense gazes.
Just me and the water and the slowly setting sun.
I strip down to my underwear before I can overthink it—plain black cotton, nothing special, but it'll work as a swimsuit. The water is cold enough to steal my breath when I wade in, but after the initial shock, it feels incredible. Clean. Clarifying.
I swim out to the middle of the cove and float on my back, staring up at the sky turning pink and orange above me. The nightmare feels distant now, silly even. Just old fears bubbling up in a new place.
"Well, this is a pleasant surprise."
I nearly drown trying to right myself.
Dominic and Caspian stand at the water's edge, dressed in nothing but low-slung swim shorts. My brain short-circuits.
Dominic's body is a landscape of hard muscle—broad shoulders, defined chest, abs that look carved from stone. Scars crisscross his torso, pale lines against tanned skin, and they only make him more devastating. Like he's survived things that would break lesser men.
Caspian is leaner but no less impressive, swimmer's build on full display, tattoos winding down his arms in patterns I can't quite make out from here. His platinum hair hangs loose around his shoulders, and when he grins at me, something low in my belly tightens.
"What are you doing here?" My voice comes out higher than intended.
"We could ask you the same thing." Caspian's gaze drops to the water, to where my body is barely hidden beneath the surface. "This is our Thursday spot. Has been for years."
"Your Thursday spot?"
"We swim here every week." Dominic is already wading in, the water rising up his thighs, his stomach, his chest. "Didn't expect to find a mermaid waiting for us."
"Do you two always come as a set?" I ask, trying for casual and landing somewhere closer to breathless.
Caspian laughs, the sound warm and rich. "Pretty much. Been attached at the hip since we were kids. Not brothers by blood, but close enough that it doesn't matter."
Dominic swims toward me with powerful strokes, and I'm suddenly very aware that I'm wearing nothing but wet cotton underwear. The fabric clings to every curve. Leaves very little to imagination.
Caspian follows, cutting through the water with easy grace. They flank me just like they did on the walk home last night—Dominic on my left, Caspian on my right—and the parallel makes my pulse race.
"This was my spot first," I manage, treading water between them. "My mother used to bring me here when I was little."
"We know." Dominic's amber eyes hold mine. "She showed it to us."
The revelation hits strangely. My mother, sharing this secret place with them. Connecting us in ways I never knew about.
"You knew her well?"
"Everyone knew Lena." Caspian floats closer, water droplets catching on his eyelashes. "She was... special. Important to the community."
"Important how?"
That look passes between them again, that silent communication I can't interpret.
"She understood things about Silverpine Falls that most people don't." Dominic's voice is careful, measured. "She belonged here in a way that's hard to explain."
I want to push, to demand real answers, but a cloud passes over the sun and I shiver. The water that felt refreshing minutes ago now raises goosebumps on my exposed skin.
Caspian notices immediately. "You're cold. Come on, let's get you out."
They escort me to the shallows, and I'm hyperaware of their bodies moving through the water beside me. Hyperaware of their eyes as I emerge dripping onto the rocks, my underwear leaving nothing to imagination.
Dominic's jaw tightens. His gaze travels down my body slowly, and when his eyes meet mine again, they seem to glow amber in the fading light. Just for a second.
I blink, and it's gone.
"You should get dressed," he says roughly. "The temperature drops fast once the sun goes down."
Caspian hands me my clothes, and his fingers brush mine in a way that feels intentional. "We'll walk you back. The forest isn't safe after dark."
"So you keep telling me." I pull my jeans on over wet skin, struggling with the fabric. "What exactly are you so worried about?"
"We told you," Dominic says simply. “Wolves.”
"You mentioned that last night. But wolves don't typically attack humans."
"These aren't typical wolves." Caspian's silver eyes hold mine. "Trust us, little star. You don't want to be out here alone at night."
As we hike back through the darkening forest, I watch them move. The way they navigate the terrain without looking, like they know every root and rock by instinct. The way their heads turn in unison at sounds I can't hear. The way their eyes catch the last light and seem to reflect it back.
Like animals. Like wolves.
My father's stories whisper through my mind, and this time, I can't quite dismiss them as fairy tales.
At my cabin, they linger on the porch, reluctant to leave.
"Same time tomorrow?" Caspian asks, something hopeful in his voice.
"Maybe." I find myself smiling despite everything. "If you promise to share the lake."
Dominic's lips curve. "It was always meant to be shared, Sera. Your mother knew that."
They disappear into the trees, and I lock the door behind me, my skin still tingling from cold water and heated looks.
Two men. Brothers who share everything. Eyes that glow in the fading light.
What the hell have I stumbled into?