Chapter Ten: The Mark Beneath the Skin
Caleb didn't sleep.
Not because he didn't want to—but because something inside him wouldn't let him.
He sat in his bedroom, the sheriff's worn journal open in his lap. It was filled with frantic sketches, faded news clippings, and cryptic notes written in shaky handwriting. Some pages were stained with what looked like blood. Others were burned at the corners, like someone had tried to destroy them—and failed.
And one phrase kept appearing, over and over again:
"The blood remembers."
Caleb ran his fingers over the words. They sent a shiver down his spine.
The sheriff had promised to dig deeper, but Caleb knew it wouldn't be fast enough.
Whatever was out there—whatever was hunting—it wasn't waiting.
Neither could he.
His arm ached. He rolled up his sleeve.
The veins beneath his skin looked darker, like something was moving just beneath the surface. His reflection in the window stared back at him—same face, same eyes—except tonight, something shimmered underneath.
Not human. Not anymore.
The worst part?
He didn't feel afraid.
He felt alive.
At school the next morning, whispers followed him.
About the body. About the blood. About how Caleb always seemed to be nearby when something bad happened.
He ignored them, moving through the halls like a ghost.
Until he passed Lena.
She stepped into his path, arms crossed, eyes hard. "Talk."
"I can't."
"Try."
He glanced around. Too many people. Too many ears.
"Fine," he muttered. "Meet me at the quarry after sunset."
Her jaw clenched. "This better be real, Caleb."
Oh, it was real.
Too real.
Later that night, the quarry was dark, the moon rising slowly behind jagged cliffs. Caleb stood at the edge, waiting.
Lena arrived, hood up, eyes scanning the woods. "So what the hell's going on?"
Caleb took a breath.
Then another.
And then, word by word, he told her everything.
About the dreams. The transformation. Ronan. The creature in the alley.
Lena didn't speak for a long time.
When she finally did, her voice was quieter than he'd ever heard it. "And you… you think you're becoming one of them?"
He nodded slowly.
"I don't think," he said. "I know."
Suddenly, a branch cracked in the trees behind them.
Lena spun. "Did you hear that?"
Caleb's eyes narrowed.
Then he smelled it.
The same scent from the alley. Blood. Wet fur. Decay.
He pushed Lena behind him.
"Run," he whispered.
And from the shadows, something growled.
It had followed him.
But it wasn't hunting him.
It was hunting her.