Chapter 1
What was Brenna thinking? Why had she insisted on travelling to her parents’ remote cabin to spend Valentine’s Day weekend by herself? She could’ve curled up with books in her own apartment, but nooooo…the call of the wild, a crackling log fireplace, and the stillness the city couldn’t offer beckoned like a late-night lover. Brenna might be a null wolf—unable to transform into her animal form and considered the lowest of the low in werewolf hierarchy—but she still craved nature and the solace found in the winter forest.
The old rust bucket truck chortled along the snow-packed road. The engine’s familiar rumble drowned out the oldies rocking out from the ancient AM/FM radio. This far from the city and without the ability to connect her phone, the radio station was her only option to fill the silence and she loved it. Every song brought back a fond childhood memory, most of which involved her singing along to songs with her family in this very truck.
I loved those trips, Maisie said before launching into her own interpretation of a crooning ballad. Brenna couldn’t shift into a wolf, but she still had one in her head. Kids in her pack and the neighbouring ones used to call her double cursed. Sometimes, like right now, she agreed. Maisie couldn’t hit a note if her life depended on it.
Brenna reached for another candy heart, a childish family tradition, but probably as romantic as her weekend would get. If only—
The old pickup truck swerved, fishtailing on the snow-packed road. Ice. Her heart convulsed as she clutched the steering wheel and tried to regain control.
Now you’ve done it, Maisie whispered in her head.
The truck hit a snow drift. The engine revved, and the truck launched into the air. Sudden weightlessness consumed her. Time slowed. As if by sheer brain power alone, the vehicle hovered midflight on its path toward a massive snowbank and inevitable impact. Instead of any survival instincts, she used the precious time to berate herself. Why’d she take her eyes off the road to grab a candy heart? Stupid, stupid, stupid. This little treat would literally be the death of her.
There’re better ways to go, Maisie griped.
Brenna’s heartbeat thudded in her ears. Sweat broke out and prickled her skin. Time sped up. No longer stuck on pause, the truck continued to barrel toward the snowbank. Before impact, she released the steering wheel and covered her head with her arms.
Images flashed through her memory—hot summer road trips with her girlfriends, Christmas with her parents, her brother’s cheeky grin as he pulled her pigtails, and her first true kiss from a boy with sandy brown hair and piercing green eyes.
The truck struck the hard-packed, unforgiving snowbank. The impact jarred the vehicle, crunching metal.
Brenna whipped forward. Her seatbelt snagged and dug into her chest, her forehead smacking her arms before bashing into the steering wheel. Pain erupted in her skull. Her head snapped back and everything went black.
* * *
Brenna’s headpounded as her vision cleared. Maisie howling in her mind didn’t make things better, either. Blood trickled from her forehead and mouth. Her tongue ached from when she’d bitten down, and her gums hurt as if her teeth still rattled. She’d hit her head pretty hard. Hopefully, she didn’t damage anything too much.
The smell of coffee permeated the truck. Her travel mug lay open on the seat beside her, and the remains of glorious caffeine trickled down the inside of the windshield and onto the dash. The heart-shaped candies lay scattered across the cab.
The wind outside muffled any potential sound except the buzzing of her head. Snow covered the cracked windshield. The rear passenger window had shattered, spraying chunks of glass over her bags. The heat had long since leeched out, and the air whistled through the glass and around the truck.
We’re screwed, Maisie said. Helpful as always.
Looking through the windshield provided little information. Snow, snow and more snow.
So much snow, it blanketed her vision to the outside world. She didn’t dare open her door or window. As chilled as her bones were now, outside would be colder. She didn’t have the advantage of a wolf form to keep her warm if she got trapped in the snow. No increased strength. No accelerated healing. Only a heightened sense of smell and an eccentric voice in her head.
I resent that, Maisie grumbled.
Brenna ignored her wolf and wiggled her toes. Yup, still working. Fingers? Fine. Body? Needed a long soak in a bathtub, but everything seemed okay. She reached over and plucked a candy heart from the passenger seat. It read, CHILL OUT. Fitting. She popped the sweet candy in her mouth and paused to let the flavour coat her tongue as her racing heart slowed down. She needed to focus. Evaluate. She might not be a super strong or super aggressive werewolf, but she had a brain.
With shaking hands, she leaned forward and turned the key to the ignition. The engine chugged before choking out. She tried again. Nothing.
“Come on!” she pleaded.
Still nothing.
She tried again.
“Come on, baby.” The engine sputtered, but quickly died.
Old Blue, her beloved truck, was dead. Well, technically, it was her father’s truck. She pulled her phone from her jacket pocket and touched the screen. No service. Of course not. Poor cell reception in the mountains wasn’t a surprise, but why couldn’t she catch a break? Encased in a snow-tomb wasn’t how she wanted to go out.
What the hell would she do?
No one came up here. Especially not in a blizzard. She was probably the only fool within a fifty-kilometer radius. If she stayed in the truck, she risked getting buried under snow and with the window broken, the cab of the truck only offered a reprieve from the skin cutting wind and damp snow as an advantage.
