Chapter 1
Lena
Ishould have left earlier.
The Blue Ridge Mountains were already swallowing the sun when I crossed the Virginia state line, turning the winding highway into a corridor of shadows and fog. My playlist had run dry hours ago, and I was running on caffeine fumes and wishful thinking, gripping the wheel like it might try to buck me off if I dared to relax.
My aunt said the drive from Chapel Hill to Roanoke would be “peaceful.” What she failed to mention was that her definition of peaceful included sheer cliffs, blind curves, and the kind of darkness that made your skin feel too tight.
I hadn’t seen another car in miles.
As I navigated yet another tight, winding curve, my headlights sliced through the inky darkness, casting a stark, bright beam across a dense patch of trees, and that's when I saw it.
A flash of gray fur. Glowing yellow eyes. Too large to be a dog. Too still to be a deer.
The thing darted across the road just a few feet ahead of me.
I slammed the brakes so hard my body snapped forward against the seat belt. The tires screamed. Gravel spat out behindme. The wheel twisted in my hands and I skidded sideways, coming to a stop just short of the edge.
My heart thundered. My breath came in short, hot bursts.
“What the hell was that?” I whispered, my voice sounding too loud in the silence that followed.
I peered through the windshield, scanning the road. Nothing. Just fog and trees. No movement. No glowing eyes. No fur.
I sat there for another minute, knuckles white on the wheel, pulse still ragged. It felt like I’d crossed some invisible line. Like I’d driven out of the world I knew, and into a different one older, quieter, more dangerous.
Something about those eyes stuck with me. Not just their size or their eerie color. It was the way theylooked at me,like they recognized me.
I told myself I imagined it. That it was just a wolf. Or a coyote. Or a trick of the headlights and my exhausted brain. Still, I didn’t breathe easy until I’d turned off that cursed stretch of road and onto the gravel path that led to the cabin.
The tires crunched as I pulled up the drive. The cabin stood waiting, half-hidden by pine trees and heavy with the weight of memory. It hadn’t changed since I was a kid stone chimney, faded green trim, a porch swing that creaked when the wind hit it just right.
A light was already on. I frowned.
Aunt Ellen said she hadn’t been here in months.
Maybe the timer still worked. Or maybe the cleaning lady forgot to turn it off. Or maybe…
No.
Nope.
I wasn’t going to spook myself. I was twenty-eight. A grown-ass woman. I didn’t believe in ghosts or monsters or things with glowing eyes. I believed in fresh starts.
Still, I took my time getting out of the car, scanning the tree line before grabbing my duffel. The silence here was different. Dense. Like the woods were listening.
The porch steps groaned under my boots. The key was right where Aunt Ellen said it would be, taped under the ceramic frog by the door. I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and exhaled.
The air carried a blend of scents that reminded me of cedar, dust, and a whisper of sweetness reminiscent of dried lavender mingling with the aroma of aged wood. The room was chilly, and I desperately wanted to shake off the slight chill running up and down my arms. Searching around the cabin, a soft glow from a lamp, revealed a cozy, compact space: a fireplace with ash dusting its hearth, two armchairs with frayed fabric and sagging cushions, and a petite kitchen nestled in the corner, its countertops cluttered with mismatched mugs and a worn kettle.
A small bedroom with a full bath was situated by the kitchen and towards the back of the cabin. And that familiar stillness that only cabins deep in the mountains seem to hold.
I dropped my bag on the couch and wandered through the rooms, checking doors, testing light switches, flipping on the faucet. Everything worked.
Still, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched.
Maybe it was just the drive. The almost-accident. The eerie silence. The fact that I was completely alone up here with barely any cell service, no neighbors that I knew, and no one but the trees for company.
