Chapter 2 Chapter 2: The Two Sides of the Pack

By Evangeline "Eva" Sterling

"Gideon?" I repeated, my knuckles turning white around the steering wheel as I sat in my idling car, the wipers slapping furiously against the windshield. "What do you mean you’re in Oakhaven? You live in Scotland."

"I did live in Scotland, Evie," his voice cracked through the Bluetooth speaker, raw and gravelly over the rumble of a heavy engine. "My contract shifted. I've been based in the Oakhaven forestry sector for three weeks. But that’s not the point. Why the hell did a notification just ping on our shared account showing you signing a lease for an apartment on Blackwood Lane? Tell me you didn’t actually move here."

"I took the Vanguard transfer, Gideon! I told you I was applying months ago." I threw the car into reverse, backing out of the executive parking space before Alastair Sterling-Vane could look out his window and see me falling apart. "You never answer your emails. How was I supposed to know you were here?"

"Pull over. Right now. You're going back to London."

"I am not going back to London!" I yelled back, pulling out onto the main road. The thick, dark wall of the Blackwood timberlands blurred past my side window like a physical barrier. "I just spent the last hour being humiliated by my new managing director. I’m stressed, I’m soaked, and I’m not turning around. I’m driving to the apartment now."

A heavy, frustrated sigh blasted through the speaker. "Send me the exact unit number. I’m ten minutes away. Don't unpack a single thing until I get there, Evie. I mean it."

The call snapped off.

Ten minutes later, I was hauling my second-to-last box up the narrow, creaking staircase of a Victorian-era townhouse that had been split into flats. The air in the stairwell smelled of old wood, floor wax, and the damp chill of the outside storm. I kicked my apartment door open, dropped the box onto the bare hardwood floor, and collapsed onto the only piece of furniture I had set up—a battered velvet armchair.

My mind instantly dragged me back to the penthouse office. The scent. It was still trapped in my nose—that intoxicating, violent blend of pine and electric heat. And his eyes. I had never seen anyone’s eyes shift from gray to gold like that. It had to be the lighting. The dark room, the storm outside, my own panic.

A heavy, rapid three-beat knock shattered my thoughts, making me jump.

I scrambled to my feet and threw the door open.

Gideon stood in the hallway, practically filling the frame. He looked older than thirty-two. His jaw was covered in a thick, dark beard, and his eyes were bloodshot, surrounded by dark shadows of pure exhaustion. He wore a heavy, waterproof tactical jacket with a subtle, unmarked patch on the shoulder, and a duffel bag was slung over his broad frame.

"Gideon," I breathed.

Before I could say anything else, he stepped into the room, caught me by the shoulders, and pulled me into a fierce, rib-crushing hug. He smelled of rain, heavy canvas, and something sharp and metallic.

"You absolute idiot," he muttered into my hair, his voice thick. He pulled back, his hands staying clamped on my shoulders as his eyes raked over my face, scanning for injuries. "What were you thinking? Of all the corporate branches in the world, why this one?"

"It was a promotion, Gideon! A massive one," I said, pulling away from his grip and crossing my arms. "And instead of congratulations, I get a lecture? I haven't seen you in nearly a year, and you’re acting like I committed a crime."

Gideon didn't look at the bare walls or the boxes. He walked straight to the window, pulling the blinds back a fraction of an inch to stare down at the foggy street below. His posture was totally rigid, his hand hovering near the heavy zipper of his jacket.

"This city isn't safe for you, Evie," he said, his voice dropping into a flat, dangerous register. "You need to call your HR department tomorrow morning. Invent a family emergency. Tell them you can't handle the relocation. Get back on a train to London."

I stared at him, a harsh laugh bubbling up in my throat. "Are you insane? I just moved my entire life here. I signed a one-year lease. Why are you being so dramatic? It’s just a rainy port city with a forestry problem."

Gideon turned around slowly. His expression was deadpan, completely devoid of the usual teasing warmth he used to have when we were younger. "It’s not a forestry problem. You don't understand what goes on here."

"Then tell me!" I walked up to him, gesturing to the empty apartment. "Tell me why my big brother is suddenly acting like a paranoid lunatic. You said you got a job as a wildlife specialist. Since when does a wildlife specialist track animals with a tactical unit? Because I know what that jacket is, Gideon. I saw the logo on your duffel bag."

Gideon's eyes narrowed. He subtly shifted his stance, blocking my view of the heavy canvas bag he had dropped by the door.

"You’re still working for that shady government contractor, aren't you?" I pressed, my voice rising. "The one from the Ministry of Defence that you swore you left after Mom and Dad died? The ones who don't exist on public records?"

"Evie, drop it," he growled.

"No! I won't drop it. You’re the only family I have left, Gideon. After the accident, we promised we wouldn't keep secrets. Now you’re living in some gloomy city, looking like you haven't slept in a week, telling me to ruin my career because of 'dangerous things' in the woods. Are there poachers? Is it a corporate cartel? What is it?"

"It’s not poachers," Gideon said, his voice barely a whisper as he stepped closer, his shadow towering over me. "There are things in Oakhaven that don't follow the laws of nature, Evie. Predators that don't just hunt for food. They are organized. They are vicious. And they run this damn town from the shadows. If you stay here, you’re just a lamb walking straight into a slaughterhouse."

I stared at him for a long, quiet moment. The rain lashed against the glass behind him, a rhythmic, suffocating sound.

"You're paranoid," I said softly, shaking my head. "You've been out in the wild too long, Gid. You’re letting those old ghost stories from the Scottish Highlands get into your head. It’s just wolves. Big ones, sure, but just animals."