It came that night.
A scream tore through the trees, shattering the quiet.
Bella was on her feet instantly, sprinting out of the packhouse, Dante beside her, wolves flooding into the clearing.
The scent of blood was thick.
Too thick.
And then—
She saw it.
A shape.
Tall.
Wrong.
Not a wolf.
Not a man.
Something in between.
Something ancient.
Its eyes burned white-hot, its body shifting, twisting, the shadows clinging to it like living things.
Bella's breath caught.
Because she had felt this before.
Had fought this before.
Had thought it was gone.
"No," she whispered.
Dante's snarl cut through the air.
The warriors shifted, ready to attack.
But Bella?
She couldn't move.
Because she finally understood.
This wasn't a new war.
This wasn't a new enemy.
This was the Hollow One.
And somehow—
Somehow—
It had come back.
And this time, it wasn't just after her.
It was after everyone.