Chapter 4: The Hunt Begins

Riven

We sat in the dark, the only sound was our breathing and the thumping of our hearts.

“They aren’t just a gang,” I said. “They’re wolves. Shifters. The Fenrath Pack.” “I figured,” she replied, voice dry as salt. “The sniffing, the teeth, the general lack of chill.” I almost smiled. “They used to be like us, once. But something went wrong.” She watched me closely, searching for the angle, the hook. “You mean you.”

I shook my head. “I was never one of them. Not really. Just… adjacent.” The lie tasted worse every time I said it. She ran her hands through her hair, streaking ink down her cheek. “What did you do to piss them off so bad?” I hesitated. The truth felt heavier with every repetition. “I stole something. An artifact. I thought I could keep it out of their hands.” She snorted, the sound ugly. “Didn’t work out, huh?”

“Not really.” I reached for my shirt, unbuttoning it enough to expose the tattoo she’d given me. The lines were sharper than ever, and the skin around them glimmered faintly, like it was lit from beneath. “Remember when I said this isn’t just a tattoo, Luna? It's binding. Old magic.” She flinched, scooting back against the wall. “You told me it was protection.”

“It is. But it’s more than that.” I tried to find the words. “You didn’t just ink me, you tied us together. The sigil, your sigil, anchors the spell. That’s why I can feel you. That’s how I found you tonight.” She stared at my chest, eyes tracking the spiral, the star, the fracture that split the center. Her breath caught, just a hitch, but I saw it.

“So, what, you’re saying we’re… connected?” Her voice was brittle, as if she already knew the answer and hated it. “Yes.” I waited, letting her sit with it. “When the Fenrath came after you, I felt it. Like a hook in my ribs. I couldn’t ignore it if I tried.”

She pressed her fingers to her temple, massaging the space between her eyes. “Great. So now I’m psychic, too.” I shook my head. “Not psychic. Just… attuned.” I watched her reaction, looking for disbelief, but there was only exhaustion and a stubborn refusal to let it break her. “It means they can’t break me. The spell keeps their magic out, but it also makes you a target.”

She looked at me, really looked, as if she could strip the lies away by force of will. “Why would anyone want to break you, Riven?” I took a breath. The next part was the hardest, every time. “The Fenrath want control. They always have. The artifact I took, a silver amulet, lets them bind other shifters to their will. Makes them slaves. The old sigils can counteract it, but only if someone like you applies them.” I gestured at her hands. “Someone with real power.”

She let her hands fall, palms open. “I just do tattoos. I’m not a magician.”

“You are now.”

She laughed, high and strained, but the humor was gone. “So all those times I felt the designs buzzing, or the ink burning, or the clients crying on my table, it wasn’t just me being crazy?”

“No.” I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “It was the magic working through you. The Fenrath know that now. So does Varek. He won’t stop.” She went quiet, absorbing. I watched the micro-expressions flicker across her face: fear, disbelief, a flash of anger, and finally, a sort of grim resignation. “Okay,” she said. “So we’re stuck together. Now what?”

I ran my thumb along the spiral of the tattoo, feeling the low thrum beneath the skin. “We run. We find the artifact before they do. Maybe we will find a way to break the bond, if that’s what you want.”

She shook her head, just once, hard enough to make her hair whip around her face. “No. We fight. I’m done letting assholes tear apart my life.” She glared at me. “But if you ever lie to me again, I’ll make sure your next tattoo spells out ‘dumbass’ in Comic Sans.”

I almost smiled, but the tension wouldn’t let me. She scooted closer, her gaze locked on the faint glow under my shirt. “Can I see it?” she asked, voice softer now.

I peeled back the fabric, baring the sigil to the dim light. She traced the edges with her fingertip, not quite touching, just hovering above the skin. The warmth of her presence sent a shock up my spine.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured. “Terrifying, but beautiful.” I wanted to tell her she was the same, but the words stuck. Instead, I caught her hand, holding it steady against my chest. “I’m sorry,” I said, barely above a whisper. “The sigil protects me from their magic, but it also binds us together. I never meant to drag you into this.”

She stared at me, the weight of our new reality settling between us. “Too late,” she said. We stayed like that for a long time, the night outside pressing in, the pulse of the sigil anchoring us both to the moment and to each other.

~~**~~

The world always goes quiet before the hunt.

I caught it before Luna did, the change in the air, the way the wind shifted down the block and brought the stink of wolf and sweat and blood up the stairs to the saferoom. My muscles jerked taut. I snapped my head to the grated window just as the first howl drifted in, distant but clear, threading through the broken glass and the dusk like a needle through skin.

“They’re here,” I said, voice already gone to the gravel of a growl.

Luna froze, mid-reach from her bag where she’d been pulling out a jar of ink, her fingers suspended in a freeze frame. For a second, she looked more shocked than scared. Then the survival kicked in, her eyes went flat and hard as she stood and looked out the window, scanning the street, the exits, the angles. The ink jar slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor, exploding in a black Rorschach on the floor.

I moved to the door, tested the lock, though it wouldn’t slow the Fenrath down for even a breath. The howls multiplied, overlapping in eerie harmony, each one a little closer, a little more certain. They were communicating, corralling, closing in. My skin prickled with adrenaline, the wolf in me pacing the walls of my head, itching for a fight.

Luna dropped to her knees, digging in her bad for anything that could be used as a weapon. “Tell me you have a plan,” she muttered, voice so low it barely carried. “Plan is to live through the next fifteen minutes,” I said. “Pack light. Only what you absolutely need.”

She started assessing what she’d brought from the shop, her movements sharp and precise. Needles, ink, a battered leather sketchbook, all stuffed into a weatherproof messenger bag. She added a small pouch she pulled from her back pocket and dumped its contents into her palm: rings, a flash drive, two vials of powdered pigment. She jammed them back in her pocket. Her hands shook, but her motions never slowed.

“Is it Varek?” she asked, not pausing in her work. “Has to be,” I said. “He doesn’t send this many for a warning.” The howls got louder, now echoed by a chorus of car alarms set off down the block. The Fenrath weren’t trying to hide their approach. They wanted us scared, running, easier to chase down.

I reached under my own shirt, felt the heat of the sigil burning on my chest. It was alive now, not just with magic, but with raw fear and anger, the bond to Luna amplifying every sensation tenfold. I could sense her panic, taste it, but I could also feel the cold center of her resolve. She was more wolf than some of the actual wolves outside.

I scanned the room for weapons, but everything sturdy was either bolted down or not strong enough. I settled for a foot-long length of pipe from the bathroom, heavy and cold in my hand. Luna zipped the messenger bag and stood. “How long?” she asked, voice steadier than I expected.

I peered through the window. Shadows moved along the alley, long and thin, pacing. “Minutes. The Fenrath don’t give up once they have a scent.” She nodded, a quick jerk of the chin, then stepped to my side, back straight and eyes hard.

We stepped quietly out of the room and down the stairs, stopping at one of the side doors; we listened together as the street went silent again, just the electric buzz of the neon in the “Miller Lite” sign someone had never turned off in a pub located at the end of the mall and the tap-tap-tap of my own pulse. I counted three sets of footsteps in the empty alley, maybe four, but there were always more in reserve, waiting for the signal.

“Back exit,” I said, motioning for her to follow. “Stay close.” She followed me, steps matching mine exactly, like she’d done this a thousand times before.

We skirted the edge of the mall’s interior, weaving through the debris of vacant shops, every sense tuned to the outside. I felt the first impact as a tremor in the walls, the Fenrath hitting the front entrance doors with their full weight, testing the frame. The glass spiderwebbed but held, for now. The back maintenance hallway was narrow, dark, the ceiling sagging where the landlord had never bothered to fix the roof. I led her past the bathroom, past the supply closet, to the metal service door.

“Ready?” I asked, one hand on the knob, the other tightening around the pipe. She looked up at me, jaw set. “After you.” I smiled, but I couldn't help it. Even now, she had a way of making it feel like we had the upper hand. I pushed on the bar and shoved the door open.

The alley behind the mall was empty for the moment. A dumpster blocked half the lane, and the wind brought in the familiar tang of motor oil and wet concrete. I scanned left and right, saw nothing. We slipped out, Luna close behind, and started moving fast, hugging the shadow of the building.

At the end of the alley, I paused, pressed my back to the bricks, and listened. A new howl cut the night, much closer. They’d split up, some herding us, the rest waiting to flank. Textbook Fenrath. “Left,” I whispered. “Sprint when I say.”

She nodded, and I felt the sigil on my chest pulse in time with her heartbeat. The footsteps came, padding and soft at first, then louder, heavier, as the wolves in human skin rounded the corner. Three of them, maybe more behind. They hadn’t shifted yet, still playing at subtlety, but I knew the look in their eyes, the way the leader scanned for threats, jaws clenched, hands loose and ready.

The lead wolf saw me first. Recognition flickered in his gaze, then the barest hint of a smile. He liked this game. I waited until he stepped clear of the wall, then shouted, “Now!”

We ran.

The Fenrath gave chase instantly, a pack of shadows on our heels. Luna kept up, faster than I expected, her bag slapping against her hip as we tore down the sidewalk. I heard her breathing, fast but steady, never panicking.

At the next cross street, I ducked into a construction site, chain-link fence peeled back just enough for us to squeeze through. Luna dove after me, hit the dirt running, and didn’t slow when the rebar snagged her sleeve. The wolves hesitated at the fence, not wanting to lose the human edge, but I could feel them closing in, their animal hunger leaking through their careful masks.

We zigzagged through the half-built foundation, hopping over piles of gravel and ducking under plastic tarps. I risked a glance back, one wolf was over the fence, two more right behind. “Keep going,” I said, shoving Luna ahead.

She rounded a corner, found a gap in the cinderblock, and vanished through it. I followed the Fenrath hot on my heels. Inside, it was pitch black, the echo of our footsteps amplified by unfinished walls and exposed ducts.

I could hear them now, the wet sound of breath, the scratch of nails on concrete as at least one of them gave up the human guise and let the wolf out. I felt the pressure behind my eyes, the wolf in me howling to join the hunt. I forced it down.

Luna and I burst out the far side of the building, straight into the open lot behind. No cover, just flat dirt and the stars overhead. “They’re gaining,” she said, glancing back. I risked another look. Two were right behind, one full wolf, the other still human but halfway changed, face distorted by the shift.

I turned to Luna, desperate for any advantage. “How good are you at riding double at top speed?” She frowned, not understanding. I pointed across the lot to the service road, where I’d stashed my bike, black and low and waiting. She grinned. “Never crashed yet.”

We ran Fenrath on our tails.

We were at the bike, I tossed her the helmet again. She jammed it on, hopped onto the back seat. I mounted, jammed the key in, and prayed the engine would catch on the first try. It did. The roar of the exhaust cut through the night, startling the wolves for a split second. It was all we needed.

I twisted the throttle, burned rubber, and felt the rear tire fishtail before catching grip. Luna’s arms locked around my waist, and we shot down the road, leaving the Fenrath in a haze of dust and burnt rubber.

Behind us, the howls rose again, this time tinged with frustration and rage. We tore down the empty street, the city blurring by, the bond between us humming so loud I thought it might drown out everything else. I didn’t look back. For a moment, it was just us and the cold air, the city’s pulse replaced by the drumbeat of pistons and the steady lock of her arms around me. The sigil matched the engine’s cadence, each heartbeat a hammer blow against my chest.

Luna leaned into every turn, her grip tightening when the bike tipped low, and I could feel her fear melt away into something wilder. The Fenrath weren’t built for chase, not in the open, not when the prey ran straight and hard. I imagined them behind us, gnashing teeth, sprinting for a taste of blood, but I didn’t let it slow me.

At the third intersection, she yelled something, the wind shredding the words. I turned my head, catching her face in the mirrors, eyes wild, hair whipped horizontal, mouth open in a question. I cut the speed just enough for her to be heard. “Where are we going?” I grinned, couldn’t help it, the animal in me hungry for more. “Somewhere they can’t track us. Water kills the scent.”

She laughed, a sharp, reckless sound, then bent lower and pressed herself tighter against my back. I cranked the throttle again, chasing the city’s edge, toward the river and whatever future was waiting for us on the other side. Behind us, the Fenrath howled, furious and denied. Ahead, the lights smeared out, blue and red and gold, a blurred promise of survival.

The road opened up, and for the first time, I felt what it was to be free. Not just from the pack, or the curse, or the endless need to run, but from the lie that I’d ever been alone. The bond between us was a live wire, an anchor, and I knew she felt it too.

Luna’s head rested between my shoulder blades, her breath warm even in the cold, and I imagined the mark on my chest pulsing in time with her heartbeat. We rode into the night, chased by wolves and the weight of our own blood, but for now, we were unstoppable.