Lexi woke with a start.

The fire had long since burned to embers, and the storm outside had finally passed, leaving the forest shrouded in damp stillness. The heavy curtains in Julian’s study remained half-drawn, letting in slivers of pale moonlight that danced across the hardwood floors like ghostly fingers.

She was curled up on the leather chaise by the window, a throw blanket draped across her legs, still wearing the clothes from earlier. Her lips still tingled from Julian’s kiss. Her skin still remembered the heat of his touch.

But something had woken her.

A sound.

A whisper.

No... a growl.

Lexi sat up slowly, her breath catching in her throat. For a long moment, she stayed still, listening. Nothing. Only the creak of wood settling and the faint rustle of wind brushing the trees outside.

She swung her legs over the side of the chaise and stood. Her body was stiff, and her pulse hadn’t quite settled since waking. Part of her wanted to curl back into the warm blanket, to believe she’d dreamed it all. But the other part—the part of her that had always trusted instinct over comfort—wouldn’t allow that.

She padded out into the hallway, quiet and barefoot, the chill of the polished floor seeping into her soles. The estate was silent. No servants. No Julian. Just moonlight and shadows.

“Julian?” she called softly, but her voice was swallowed by the vast emptiness of the corridor.

She tried the study first. Empty. Still warm from the fire, but no sign of him.

Her fingers trailed along the railing of the grand staircase as she descended into the foyer. A strange sense of unease curled in her stomach—like the house was holding its breath.

She tried the front door.

Locked.

She turned toward the east wing, where Julian had said his private quarters were. As she approached, something strange caught her attention—a faint shimmer of light at the end of the hallway. Candlelight, flickering through the cracks of a barely open door.

She pushed the door open gently.

It was a library. Different from the study. This room was older, dustier, filled with towering shelves and ancient tomes bound in cracked leather. A fire burned low in a small hearth, and beside it, the source of the candlelight—an old wrought-iron chandelier, several of its candles still lit.

And on the floor, in the center of the room, were footprints.

Wet, muddy, and unmistakably barefoot.

Lexi froze.

Her breath misted in the cold air, even though the fire was lit.

The footprints led from the window—open just slightly—to the center of the room, then vanished near a tall bookshelf. She moved closer, kneeling down to study them. The mud was fresh. The shape of the prints... off. Larger than normal. Almost distorted.

Then, she saw it.

A tuft of fur.

Dark. Coarse. Caught on the edge of the bookshelf.

She reached out to touch it, but stopped.

A noise behind her—a creak of a floorboard.

Lexi spun around.

Julian stood in the doorway, shirtless, his chest rising and falling, his skin slick with sweat and dirt. His eyes, usually a deep gray-blue, were darker now. Too dark. Almost black. And glowing faintly at the edges.

“Lexi,” he said, voice hoarse.

“What the hell is going on?” she asked, rising to her feet. “What’s out there in the woods? What was in here?”

He didn’t answer immediately. His gaze dropped to the muddy prints, then to the fur.

Her stomach twisted. “Julian… was it you?”

“I told you there were things about me you didn’t know,” he said quietly.

“You promised you wouldn’t lie to me.”

“I haven’t.” His jaw clenched. “But I haven’t told you everything either.”

Lexi took a step back. “Start talking.”

Julian ran a hand through his hair, the fire casting wild shadows across his face. “There’s a reason I live out here. A reason my family keeps to themselves. We don’t just guard the estate… we guard what’s inside us.”

Lexi stared at him. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

“You’re not… human, are you?”

Julian’s silence was answer enough.

She shook her head slowly. “No. That’s not possible.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” he said, stepping into the room. “But the Blackwood bloodline—my bloodline—is cursed. We’re not monsters, but we’re not entirely men either.”

Lexi’s throat was dry. “You’re a werewolf.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Not like the legends. Not quite. But yes… under the full moon, the change is inevitable.”

She took a shaky breath. “Why tell me now?”

“Because I think whatever’s been attacking the villagers… it’s not me. And if it isn’t me, then it’s something worse.”

Lexi blinked, trying to keep up. “You think there’s another one.”

“I know there is.” Julian looked out the window. “And I think it followed you here.”

Lexi’s blood ran cold.

Julian crossed to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “You’re not safe unless you stay close to me. And I’m not just saying that because I care about you—which I do—but because if something’s hunting you… it means you’re part of this now, whether you want to be or not.”

She searched his eyes—those strange, luminous eyes that now held both beauty and danger.

“And you’ll protect me?” she asked.

“I swear it,” he whispered. “With everything I have.”

Another howl echoed through the night—closer this time.

Lexi didn’t flinch.

Instead, she turned to the window, where the moon hung bright and full in the sky.

“I believe you,” she said. “But if I’m part of this now… then I need to be ready.”

Julian’s smile was grim.

“Then we start at dawn.”