The Shadows Speak

The night air was crisp and cool as Ramona made her way home, her heels clicking against the empty pavement. The bar she had stopped at was just a distant memory now, the buzz of alcohol wearing off but leaving behind a gnawing frustration that refused to ease. Six years. Six long years of searching, and yet here she was, no closer to finding him than when she started. Only false hints, here and there.

Every step felt like a weight on her chest. Why was he so difficult to find? Why were there no clear leads? No real pictures. Just rumors, whispers, and nothing solid to hold onto. Her father's death had pushed her to this point, the obsession with vengeance now consuming her every waking thought. But despite the years, despite everything, Killian remained a ghost.

She stopped in the middle of the empty road, the hum of distant traffic and the occasional bark of a dog the only sounds. A wave of helplessness washed over her, and before she knew it, a scream tore from her throat. It echoed down the quiet street.

"Why? Why can't I just find him?" she screamed into the night, her voice breaking with the weight of her frustration.

But as soon as the last echo faded, a voice, smooth and mocking, cut through the silence.

"Maybe because you're stupid."

Ramona whipped around, her heart pounding, but the street remained empty. No one was there. The voice had come from nowhere, or perhaps it was just the alcohol playing tricks on her mind. She blinked, trying to shake off the strange feeling crawling up her spine.

"Hello?" she called out, her voice tentative.

Nothing.

She took a step back, laughing nervously. It was probably just the liquor, making her hear things. "It's nothing," she muttered to herself. "It's just a stupid hallucination."

But then, the voice came again, colder this time, laced with a bitter amusement.

"Why are you so special?"

Ramona froze, her eyes scanning the empty streets, trying to locate the source of the voice. She couldn't see anyone, but she knew—something was there. Something that was toying with her, playing a game that made her skin crawl.

"Who the hell is that?" she demanded, her heart racing in her chest.

The voice chuckled, the sound cold and almost predatory. "God can't help you where you are right now. You're not even standing in his sanctuary. And you don't even believe in him."

Ramona's pulse quickened, her breath coming out in shallow gasps. "Show yourself," she demanded, her voice trembling despite her attempt to sound tough. She reached for the pen in her purse, her hand shaking as she gripped it tightly, ready to defend herself.

But again, that eerie chuckle.

"Ramona, Ramona, Ramona."

She froze, her stomach twisting into a knot. How did it know her name? Her mouth went dry. She took a step back, her grip tightening on the pen. "How do you know my name?" she demanded, her voice barely above a whisper.

The voice only laughed again, the sound sending a chill down her spine. "Enough with the chit-chat," it said, low and menacing. "I've received my praises. Tonight, it's time to make the kill."

Ramona's blood ran cold. A hand reached out from the shadows, its fingers elongated and impossibly fast, aiming for her throat. She felt the sudden surge of panic, her mind screaming to move, to fight, to do something—anything. But her body wouldn't respond fast enough. She could almost feel the chill of death creeping closer, closer…

Suddenly, a loud growl echoed through the streets, and the air seemed to shift. Ramona froze in shock as two massive figures appeared from the shadows, their forms impossibly large. She knew right away what they were.

Wolves.

Her breath hitched in her throat, her mind struggling to make sense of the surreal sight in front of her. These weren't ordinary wolves. One of them, larger than the other, had glowing red eyes, and its fur shimmered in the moonlight, a dangerous and terrifying presence. But it was the second wolf that caught her attention. Its fur was ash and brown, and it had striking blue eyes that glimmered with an almost human-like intelligence.

This wasn't just any pack of wolves. These were Lycans.

Fear surged through her, so strong it nearly paralyzed her. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the ground, unable to tear her gaze away from the terrifying creatures in front of her.

The wolf with the red eyes stepped forward, its gaze fixed on her. She knew what it was, even without the stories—Alpha. And the one with blue eyes, the smaller of the two, circled around her, its eyes locking onto hers, full of a different kind of hunger.

Ramona had read about them, vaguely, in novels, but reading about them and seeing them up close were two very different things.

As the growl of the wolves filled the air, the voice that had tormented her earlier spoke once more, distant yet clear, like a whisper from the shadows.

"They're not here for you."

Ramona couldn't comprehend the words. The night had just become something out of a nightmare. She had to get out. But she was rooted to the spot, her fear locking her in place. The wolves loomed closer, and all she could do was stare in disbelief as the danger of her situation crept closer.

The one with the red eyes stepped forward again, closer, and closer, until it was almost on top of her. Her heart thundered in her chest as the wolf's gaze bored into her soul.

Ramona could barely breathe, barely think, her mind overwhelmed by the chaos of it all. What was happening? Why had they appeared? Were they real? Or had she finally gone insane?

Before she could process any more, she felt the chill of the night air on her skin, the tension in the air so thick she could almost taste it. The Alpha's eyes never left her face, its gaze unwavering and commanding.