Chapter Four: Blood on the Leaves

Caleb ran.

Branches lashed against his bare arms, the cold night air searing his lungs, but he didn't stop. He couldn't. Not with the hunger still clawing at his insides, not with the scent of blood still thick in his nostrils.

His legs burned, his heart pounded, but he pushed forward, deeper into the forest, further from Lena—away from temptation.

But no matter how fast he ran, he couldn't escape himself.

The memories of the night before played on repeat in his mind—the unbearable pain, the way his bones had stretched and broken, the raw, mindless hunger that had taken over.

And now? It wasn't just in his head anymore. It was still there, lurking beneath his skin, waiting for the right moment to take control.

He skidded to a stop near a creek, doubling over, gripping his knees as he gasped for breath. His body trembled with exertion, but it wasn't exhaustion that made him weak.

It was need.

The water in the creek was clear, reflecting the moon above, but when Caleb looked at his own reflection, he barely recognized himself. His pupils were too large, swallowing the color of his irises. His lips were pale, his skin slick with sweat.

He still felt wrong.

A sharp snap echoed through the woods behind him.

Caleb spun.

The trees were silent, unmoving.

Another snap. Closer this time.

Caleb's breath hitched. He wasn't alone.

A rustling in the undergrowth. Then—movement.

Something emerged from the darkness.

A deer.

The same one from before.

It was still bleeding, its flank torn open by some unseen predator. It stumbled toward the creek, its legs shaking, struggling to stay upright. Caleb could see its ribs, the rapid rise and fall of its chest.

And he could hear its heartbeat.

His throat tightened, his stomach twisted.

The hunger surged again.

It would be so easy.

One lunge. One bite.

The thought sent a violent shudder through him.

No.

Caleb squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to turn away. I'm not an animal. I'm not a killer.

He clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms. The pain helped ground him, kept him in control.

The deer collapsed near the water's edge. Its breath came in short, uneven bursts.

Caleb's chest tightened. It wasn't just an animal anymore. It was him.

Weak. Dying. Trapped between what it used to be and what it had become.

He took a slow step back. Then another.

He had to get out of here before—

Another rustle. But this time, it wasn't the deer.

Caleb turned just in time to see a shadow emerge from the trees.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Eyes gleaming like amber fire.

Ronan.

The older man studied him, then glanced at the dying deer. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face. "Fighting it, are you?"

Caleb swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not like you."

Ronan chuckled. "Oh, kid. You don't get it, do you?" He crouched near the deer, running a finger along its bloody wound. His gaze flicked back up to Caleb. "This?" He lifted his hand, showing Caleb the crimson stain on his fingers. "This is what you were made for."

Caleb's stomach twisted, but Ronan's voice was relentless.

"You think you can fight it? Ignore it? Bury it?" His tone hardened. "That's not how this works."

Caleb shook his head. "I won't."

Ronan sighed, standing to his full height. His eyes burned into Caleb's.

"You're starving," he said simply.

Caleb flinched.

"You feel it, don't you?" Ronan took a slow step forward. "The way your skin itches, the way your body screams for something you don't understand." Another step. "You're not sick, Caleb. You're just—" his grin sharpened, "—incomplete."

Caleb took a step back.

Ronan sighed. "You can keep running, but it won't change what's inside you."

Then, before Caleb could react, Ronan slashed open his own palm.

Caleb's breath caught as the scent hit him.

Rich. Warm. Human.

His stomach clenched.

Ronan held out his bleeding hand between them, tilting his head, watching. Testing.

Caleb's body betrayed him. His breath came faster, his fingers twitched, his jaw ached. His own instincts were screaming at him.

Ronan's voice dropped to a whisper. "Go on."

Caleb's hands shook.

The hunger was winning.

And he didn't know if he could stop it.