Chapter Three – Blood and Silver

The patrolman's boots thudded towards Ivy's floorboards as he stepped closer to the rug.

"What's underneath there?" he repeated, eyes sharp.

Ivy stood her ground, hands crossed. "A root cellar. For meals. Same as always."

The other men fanned out at the back of him, silver glinting from their belts. She ought to hear Thorne's ragged breathing under her floor like thunder in her ears.

The lead patrolman, Derren, crouched close to the threshold of the rug.

"Mind if we check?"

"Yes," Ivy said firmly. "I do."

Derren looked up. "If you've got nothing to hide…"

"I said it's food storage. That's all."

His eyes narrowed. "Then you won't mind me looking".

He reached down and caught the edge of the carpet.

The nervousness tightened the Ivy's throat . Her palms twitched toward the fireplace poker.

Then—"Wait!"

Derren froze.

Ivy forced a casual smile. "Let me open it. You might break the barrier again."

Darren got up slowly, brushed imaginary dust with his knees. "Good."

She moved forward and bent to pick up the carpet her heart beating really fast. Under it sat flush with the floor of the training. He caught the handle. Thorne wasn't breathing too loud.

She pulled it up.

Cool, earthy air drifted up. Rows of baskets, sealed jars, and placing herbs had been neatly stacked on wooden cabinets.

Derren leaned forward.

Ivy kep her voice regular. "See? Cabbage. Carrots. Dried venison."

The third patrolman, Hale, peered inside. "Smells like garlic and rot. No wolf."

Derren didn't look satisfied. His eyes moved back to her. "Mind if I come down?"

She stiffened. "There's not much room."

"I don't need much."

She hesitates very long.

Darren pushed past her.

He took two steps into the basement, boots creaking. Ivy grabbed the fist when he had moved from one basket to another, poking, sniffed, lifted lid.

"Something wrong, Ivy?" he asked without turning.

"You're acting like I broke the law."

"No," Derren said. "I'm acting like something very dangerous crossed the fence last night, and we tracked blood here."

She went still. "Blood?"

The wooded area aspect. Tracks led instantly this way. Fresh. And not all human."

Ivy's mind raced. Had she left a path? Had Thorne bled outside the cabin?

Derren climbed back up, wiping his palms.

"If I discover you're harboring some thing—"

"You won't."

His stare was hard. "You always have been softhearted. Not good in times like these."

"I'm also no longer stupid," she stated.

He gave a small nod. "We'll see."

Derren turned to depart, but Hale lingered. He glanced around one ultimate time, eyes sweeping over the walls, the cabinets, the flickering firelight.

"Be careful," he said quietly. "Whatever it is, it's not just a wolf."

Then they left.

Ivy waited five complete minutes before she lifted the trapdoor again.

Thorne blinked up at her, his pores and skin light, jaw clenched.

"You okay?" she whispered.

"Not truly," he muttered. "But I've been worse."

She helped him out, one arm looped below his. He winced with every step but didn't complain.

When he was seated on the bed, she exhaled.

"You almost got us each killed," she snapped.

"I warned you."

"You didn't say they'd track you like a hound on fresh blood!"

"I didn't expect to lose that amount of it."

She paced, fingers in her hair. "This isn't sustainable. You can't live here."

"Would you rather I move slowly again into the woods?"

"Honestly? Maybe."

He looked at her, eyes unreadable. "But you won't"

"No," she muttered. "I won't."

 Moments passed 

Then.. "What did they imply— not just a wolf'?"

Thorne looked away.

"You're hiding something," she said.

"I'm protecting you."

"Don't flatter yourself. I didn't ask for safety."

He sighed. "There are things in that forest even monsters fear."

Ivy's throat tightened. "Is that what did this to you?"

"Yes."

"And it's still out there?"

"It doesn't leave survivors," he said. "Except me."

She turned cold. "Then why are you alive?"

"I'm wondering the same thing."

Ivy sat heavily beside him. The weight of it all pressed against her chest.

"My brother," she said suddenly. "He's the one I went into the forest for. He's dying."

Thorne glanced at her.

"There's something wrong with his blood," she continued. "It started after that night—the one where the sky turned red and the animals went silent."

He frowned. "When?"

"Six weeks ago."

His jaw worked silently for a second.

"That's when it started hunting."

"What is 'it'?"

But Thorne only shook his head. "You wouldn't believe me."

"Try me."

He looked at her—really looked. Then leaned in.

"It's called a Hollow Wolf. A shadow that wears flesh. A werewolf that's been consumed by darkness."

She stared at him. "That sounds made up."

"I thought so too. Until it tore through five of my pack like they were paper."

Ivy blinked. "You had a pack?"

He hesitated.

"I was their Alpha."

Her breath caught. "You're—"

"Yes."

Everything clicked at once. His strength. His stubbornness. His anger.

"I thought Alphas never leave their pack."

"They don't," he said. "Unless the pack is dead."

Silence fell.

Then Ivy said softly, "I'm sorry."

He didn't reply.

The fire exploded between them. Outside, air rises, whispering like raged leaves.

Suddenly Thorne's head raised up.

"What?" She asked.

"Something's wrong."

Ivy stood, following his gaze to the window.

There—just past the tree line—was movement.

A shape. No, a blur.

And then—nothing.

Just the wind.

"Stay inside," Thorne said, standing shakily.

"You can't fight like this—"

"I won't need to. Not yet."

He limped toward the door, but Ivy blocked it.

"No. You said it yourself—it doesn't leave survivors."

"And if we wait, it'll come to us."

The hair on her neck stood up.

"Then what do we do?"

Thorne looked her dead in the eyes.

"We set a trap."

Just as he said it, a shadow flickered across the window again.

And this time—it looked back.