Read My Werewolf Boyfriend :: The Forest of Forgiveness

"Do you know why Henry is so determined to catch you?" Owen asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His tone was heavy with something unspoken, a mystery that Emma couldn’t quite grasp.

Emma frowned, her brow furrowing as she considered his question. "I’ve been asking myself the same thing," she admitted, her voice tinged with frustration. "He’s been after me for months, but I still don’t know why. It’s like he’s obsessed."

Owen turned to face her, his expression unreadable. "It’s not just about you, Emma," he said, his voice low and serious. "There’s something else at play here. Something... darker."

Emma’s heart skipped a beat, a chill running down her spine. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Owen hesitated, his eyes narrowing as if he were weighing his words carefully. "Let’s just say," he began, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, "that some doors shouldn’t be opened. And once they are... there’s no turning back."

The room fell silent once more, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Emma felt a shiver run through her, the weight of Owen’s words settling over her like a heavy blanket. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they were standing on the edge of something far bigger than either of them could comprehend.

Outside, the wind howled through the trees, the forest alive with secrets that whispered through the night. And as Owen turned back to the window, his gaze fixed on the darkness beyond, Emma couldn’t help but wonder what other mysteries lay hidden in the shadows.

The dim light of the laboratory flickered as Owen adjusted the microscope, his fingers trembling with excitement. Emma sat on the cold metal table, her arms crossed, her expression a mix of curiosity and unease. Owen leaned against the wall, his arms folded, his eyes never leaving Emma.

"Your blood," Owen began, his voice low and steady, "is not just unique. It's revolutionary. Do you understand what this means?"

Emma frowned, her fingers tapping nervously on the table. "It means I'm a freak. That's what it means."

Owen stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "It means you're immune to silver, Emma. That's not a freak. That's a miracle."

"A miracle?" Emma scoffed, her voice tinged with sarcasm. "Great. So now I'm the chosen one. Just what I always wanted."

Henry ignored her sarcasm, his focus unwavering. "If we can replicate this immunity, we can turn the tide against the Blackwood family. They won't stand a chance."

Emma's eyes widened, a flicker of fear crossing her face. "And what about me? What happens to me when you're done with my blood?"

Owen stepped closer, his voice softening. "We'll protect you, Emma. You have my word."

Emma looked at him, her eyes searching his for sincerity. "Your word? That's supposed to make me feel better?"

Before Owen could respond, Emma's head snapped toward the window. The faint sound of footsteps on gravel reached her ears. Her heart raced as she slid off the table, her body tense. "Someone's here," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Owen's eyes narrowed, his body shifting into a defensive stance. "Are you sure?"

Emma nodded, her breath quickening. "I can hear them. They're close."

Henry's face paled, his hands gripping the edge of the table. "It's Henry. He must have found us."

Owen moved swiftly, grabbing a silver dagger from the table and handing it to Emma. "Take this. Just in case."

Emma hesitated, her fingers brushing against the cold metal. "I thought you said I was immune to silver."

"You are," Owen replied, his voice steady. "But he is not."

The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Emma's mind raced, her thoughts a whirlwind of fear and uncertainty. She had always wanted a normal life, but now, she was at the center of a war she never asked for.

As the footsteps grew louder, Owen's voice broke the silence. "Stay close to me. No matter what happens, we're in this together."

Emma nodded, her grip tightening on the dagger. She had no choice. Her fate was no longer her own.

The door creaked open, a shadowy figure stepping into the room. Emma's heart pounded in her chest as she prepared for the inevitable. The battle for her life—and her blood—was about to begin.

The dim light of the warehouse flickered, casting long shadows on the cold, concrete floor. Emma stood in the center, her heart pounding as she tried to process the sudden turn of events.

Now, she was face-to-face with Henry Thomas, his icy smirk sending chills down her spine.

"Well, well, Emma," Henry drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Didn't think you'd walk right into my trap, did you?"

Emma's eyes narrowed, her fists clenched at her sides. "You always did have a knack for the dramatic, Henry. But do you really think this will work?"

Henry chuckled, a low, menacing sound that echoed through the empty space. "Oh, I don't just think it will work, Emma. I know it will. You see, you're the perfect bait to lure out the Lee family. And once they come to rescue you, I'll be waiting."

Owen stepped forward, his voice calm but laced with tension. "You're underestimating them, Henry. The Lee family isn't just going to walk into a trap."

Henry's smirk widened, and he tilted his head mockingly. "Oh, but they will. Because they care about her. And that's their weakness."