Chapter Fourteen: Bloodlines and Betrayals

Chapter Fourteen: Bloodlines and Betrayals

Caleb slammed the journal shut.

He couldn't stop shaking. The sheriff's notes, his father's warnings—it all painted a brutal picture. This wasn't just about monsters in the dark. It was about legacy. And blood.

His blood.

"You sure you want to keep going?" Lena asked, perched across the room on an overturned milk crate, arms folded tightly. "Because this? It's not just folklore anymore. It's you."

"I didn't ask for this," Caleb muttered.

"No one does," said a voice from the hallway.

Ronan stepped in, quiet as smoke, holding a sealed envelope in his hand. He tossed it onto the table. "You should see this."

Caleb tore it open—and froze.

Inside was an old photo, weathered at the edges, showing a younger Ronan standing beside a woman with sharp eyes and a familiar jawline. Between them, a little boy.

Caleb.

"What the hell is this?" he whispered.

Ronan looked tired. Older than he'd ever seemed. "Your mother was one of us. Not a Red Howl. Something older. A keeper of balance. She tried to protect you from all this. That's why she disappeared."

Lena's eyes widened. "You mean she didn't die?"

"She ran," Ronan said. "To keep him out of their hands."

Caleb's hands curled into fists. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because knowing would've changed nothing," Ronan snapped. "They were always going to find you. But now you understand—this isn't just about survival anymore. It's about choosing who you become."

A sharp knock interrupted them.

Dawson appeared in the doorway, pale and tight-lipped. "You need to see this."

He led them to the front of the station.

The front window had been shattered. Glass glittered across the floor like ice.

Pinned to the wall with a silver dagger was a note written in dark red ink:

The blood remembers. The pack is watching. The full moon comes. Choose wisely.

Beneath it, a clump of fur—not quite human. Not quite beast.

Caleb stared at the message, heart pounding.

Lena whispered, "They're not warning us anymore."

"No," Caleb said, voice low. "This is a challenge."

And from the shadows beyond the station, Caleb could feel them watching.

The pack.

His past.

Everything was closing in.

Caleb slammed the journal shut.

He couldn't stop shaking. The sheriff's notes, his father's warnings—it all painted a brutal picture. This wasn't just about monsters in the dark. It was about legacy. And blood.

His blood.

"You sure you want to keep going?" Lena asked, perched across the room on an overturned milk crate, arms folded tightly. "Because this? It's not just folklore anymore. It's you."

"I didn't ask for this," Caleb muttered.

"No one does," said a voice from the hallway.

Ronan stepped in, quiet as smoke, holding a sealed envelope in his hand. He tossed it onto the table. "You should see this."

Caleb tore it open—and froze.

Inside was an old photo, weathered at the edges, showing a younger Ronan standing beside a woman with sharp eyes and a familiar jawline. Between them, a little boy.

Caleb.

"What the hell is this?" he whispered.

Ronan looked tired. Older than he'd ever seemed. "Your mother was one of us. Not a Red Howl. Something older. A keeper of balance. She tried to protect you from all this. That's why she disappeared."

Lena's eyes widened. "You mean she didn't die?"

"She ran," Ronan said. "To keep him out of their hands."

Caleb's hands curled into fists. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because knowing would've changed nothing," Ronan snapped. "They were always going to find you. But now you understand—this isn't just about survival anymore. It's about choosing who you become."

A sharp knock interrupted them.

Dawson appeared in the doorway, pale and tight-lipped. "You need to see this."

He led them to the front of the station.

The front window had been shattered. Glass glittered across the floor like ice.

Pinned to the wall with a silver dagger was a note written in dark red ink:

The blood remembers. The pack is watching. The full moon comes. Choose wisely.

Beneath it, a clump of fur—not quite human. Not quite beast.

Caleb stared at the message, heart pounding.

Lena whispered, "They're not warning us anymore."

"No," Caleb said, voice low. "This is a challenge."

And from the shadows beyond the station, Caleb could feel them watching.

The pack.

His past.

Everything was closing in.