For a moment, I had the irrational urge to tell Dad to stop. To turn around. To keep driving until the road widened again and the forest loosened its grip.

Finally, the trees parted.

A lone two-story house stood at the edge of a clearing, its shape emerging from the night like it was made of shadow and moonlight. The exact shade of white paint was impossible to tell in the dim light, but where it had peeled away, the wood beneath was yellowed and raw. The wraparound porch sagged under the weight of years, its railing warped and uneven.

Behind the house loomed a barn, its doors hanging crookedly from rusted hinges, the boards splintered and swollen with moisture.

A woman stood on the porch, watching us.

Even though I had never met her, recognition hit me with unsettling certainty.

Elise.

Mine and Hailey's grandmother.

As soon as the car rolled onto the uneven driveway, she rose from her chair with a speed that didn't fit the scene, or her supposed age. It was impossible to tell how old she actually was. Her face was smooth in places, finely lined in others, as if time had chosen selectively where to leave its mark.

She descended the porch steps before the car had fully stopped, then stilled, waiting.

Suddenly, I didn't want to leave the car.

My heart fluttered violently, slamming into my throat. My fingers curled around the door handle, slick with sweat. The air inside the car felt too thick, almost suffocating.

A warm, heavy hand settled on my shoulder.

"Kelsey."

Dad's voice, rich and steady, pulled me back. I blinked, disoriented, my pulse racing.

"Everything's all right," he said quietly. "Calm down."

He didn't ask what was wrong. Didn't question my reaction. Almost as if he'd expected it.

I nodded, the motion stiff and mechanical. He nodded back, then stepped out of the car. Reluctantly, I followed.

The gravel crunched loudly beneath my shoes as I closed the door and turned to face her. Elise stood too close, her eyes bright, her smile just a fraction too wide to be natural. Her gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch painfully in my chest.

"You must be Kelsey," she said, her voice smooth, almost musical.

Too musical. Like a carefully rehearsed performance.

I forced a nod, my throat tight. Beside me, Hailey slipped behind my leg, pressing her face into my jeans as if trying to disappear.

Elise crouched slowly, her movements fluid, controlled. Her fingers twitched at her sides.

"And this must be Hailey," she said.

Hailey whimpered and pressed closer.

"I am Elise. I am your grandmo—"

The front door creaked open.

A man stepped onto the porch, tall and broad-shouldered, his black hair threaded with silver. His presence filled the space immediately, heavy and immovable.

Jack.

My grandfather.

Though there was nothing grandfatherly about him. No softness. No warmth. Only authority, coiled and waiting.

"So," he said, his voice a low rumble, amber eyes narrowing, "you finally come back with your tail between your legs."

Dad's spine stiffened. "I wasn't aware I needed permission to return home."

Jack's lip curled, flashing teeth. "You coming back is one thing. Bringing them along," he gestured sharply toward Hailey and me, "is reckless. Bordering on lunacy."

My pulse roared in my ears. "What is he talking about?" I demanded.

Dad ignored me.

"They're my daughters," he said evenly.

"And they don't belong here."

The words landed like a verdict.

"Jack," Elise gasped.

"If you don't want us here, we'll go," Dad said tightly. "I won't stay where my kids aren't welcome."

Jack snorted. "When did I say you weren't welcome? I said you're being irrational. Two very different things."

"Jack!" Elise hissed, the sound low and guttural, nothing a human throat should have produced. I gasped despite myself.

Jack exhaled slowly, his shoulders loosening by a fraction. "Fine," he said. "But this isn't over."

Dad's hand closed around my shoulder, his grip tight, fingers trembling with restrained emotion. "Go inside with your grandmother."

Every instinct I had screamed to run. To grab Hailey and bolt back to the car. But there was nowhere to go.

The house smelled of dust and old wood, of something deeper beneath it, something wild and musky, like wet fur and damp earth. The floorboards groaned underfoot as Elise led us upstairs, her steps eerily silent.

I was acutely aware of her behind me, of the way her presence filled the narrow hallway.

"This way," she said, opening a door at the end of the hall.

The room held two narrow beds and a single window overlooking the forest. The trees loomed close, their branches brushing the glass.

"Your room."

"Thanks," I managed.

Her smile widened, teeth glinting faintly in the low light. "Sleep well, girls."

The door closed softly behind her.

I locked it.

Hailey climbed onto one of the beds, clutching her stuffed rabbit, her eyes wide and glassy with fear. "Kelsey?" she whispered. "Why did Grandpa say we don't belong here?"

I sat beside her, smoothing her hair, my hands still shaking. "I don't know, Hailey. But we'll figure it out. Okay?"

She nodded, curling into herself.

Outside, the wind rose, rushing through the trees in long, hollow breaths.

Then came the howl.

Hailey's breath hitched, and she pressed closer to me. I held her tight, staring out the window into the dark mass of trees.

"Are there wolves here?" she asked in a thin voice.

Another howl answered back.

Then another.

"Probably," I whispered. "But not here. Deep in the woods. Far from town. Wolves stay away from humans. We're safe."

She turned to look at me, her eyes glistening in the moonlight. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I lied.

Because a part of me knew they were already here.