CHAPTER 1:THE GIRL WHO SHOULDN’T EXIST

Dead Girls Don’t Get Invitations

They said I shouldn’t exist.

Not in a cute, mysterious-girl-in-a-hood way. No—more like “the stars blinked out when she was born, so maybe we throw the whole baby away” kind of vibe.

And for most of my life, I believed them.

Foster care taught me a lot. How to lie with a smile. How to survive on two granola bars and rage. How to fake normal when the world keeps insisting you’re not.

But on my twenty-first birthday, normal died.

A letter arrived. No stamp. No sender. Just a black envelope sealed with blood-red wax.

Inside?

Raven Blackthorn,

You are one of us.

Come home.

And coordinates. That was it.

No explanation. No return address. Just the name I hadn’t heard since I was a kid—my real name. The one the system scrubbed away and replaced with files and numbers.

So of course, like any traumatized girl with unresolved abandonment issues and chronic curiosity, I packed a duffel, told no one, and took the midnight bus to a place that barely existed on a map.

Silverclaw Ridge.

Population: 812. Vibes? Immaculately cursed.

The town didn’t so much greet me as tolerate my presence. People stared. Not in a hey-new-girl kind of way—more like why is the dead girl walking around again?

By the time I reached the house, I was already questioning my life choices.

It was a gothic, vine-covered, haunted-mansion special. Creaky porch. Shuttered windows. Smelled like secrets and cedar. Definitely not up on Airbnb.

Still, when I touched the doorknob, a shock ran through my hand like static. Familiar.

The door swung open without a single push.

“Okay,” I muttered. “Super normal.”

The inside looked like a time capsule from the witchy 1800s. Dust. Old books. A fire that somehow lit itself the moment I stepped inside. Like the house recognized me.

And the mirror.

God, that mirror.

Tall. Ornate. Covered in carvings that felt alive. I saw myself in it—but just for a second, the reflection blinked after I did.

I spun.

Nothing.

But something was watching. I could feel it.

That night, I slept on the couch with a fireplace poker under my pillow and dreams that felt like premonitions.

Flashes of wolves. Fire. Two glowing-eyed men fighting over me like I was a crown no one could wear without bleeding.

I woke to cold sweat.

And two figures standing outside my window.

Not close. Just… watching. One tall and pale, with eyes like winter. The other leaner, wilder—tattoos glowing faintly under moonlight.

They didn’t move.

Then, just like that, they were gone.

No footprints. No sound. Like they were never there.

Except I could still feel them in my veins. Like a song I didn’t know the lyrics to—but couldn’t stop humming.

The knock at the door came at 8:03 a.m.

Soft. Deliberate. Like whoever was on the other side wasn’t in a hurry—because they already knew I’d answer.

I grabbed the fireplace poker and crept to the door like a sane person. Cracked it an inch.

And saw him.

The tattooed one from the woods.

He was leaning against the porch post like he had all day, all night, and all the arrogance in the world. Tanned skin, wild brown hair, emerald tattoos coiling up his arms and neck. Eyes green like deep woods and secrets.

“Morning,” he said, voice a little rough. “You must be Raven.”

I narrowed my eyes. “How do you know my name?”

“I know a lot of things.”

Not creepy at all.

“And you are…?”

“Kade.” His smile tilted. “I was wondering when you’d finally get here.”

I opened the door a little more but didn’t let go of the poker. “Were you watching me last night?”

He didn’t answer. Just looked past me into the house.

“You remembered the place?”

“No,” I said. “I’ve never been here before.”

“Mm,” he muttered, more to himself than me. “That’s worse.”

Before I could ask what that meant—

A shadow passed over the porch.

I turned.

There, standing just beyond the steps, was the other one.

Lucian.

Jet black hair, cut just past the jaw. Eyes like winter storms. Dressed like royalty had a military branch. And staring at me like I was the solution to a war no one wanted to fight.

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just looked.

Like seeing me again hurt. Like maybe he remembered something I didn’t.

“Kade,” Lucian said, voice clipped. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Same as you,” Kade said casually. “Following the scent.”

My head snapped between them. “Okay. Time out. Who are you people?”

Neither answered.

But the air between them? Yeah. That was about ten seconds from combusting.

Lucian took a step toward me. “You were hidden for a reason, Raven. The moment you stepped into this town, everything changed.”

“Why?” I demanded. “Why me?”

He didn’t blink. “Because your bloodline isn’t supposed to exist. And now every pack in the region knows you’re alive.”

Kade scoffed. “You make it sound so dramatic.”

“It is dramatic,” Lucian snapped. “She’s the last of the Blackthorn line.”

Everything in me went still.

I’d heard that name once. On a case file the system pretended didn’t exist. “Blackthorn.” A whisper from a childhood dream. A warning I never understood.

“You’re lying,” I said.

Lucian’s expression didn’t change. “I wish I were.”

Kade stepped closer. “You’re not just a girl anymore, Raven. You’re a legacy. A target. And depending on who finds you first? A prize.”

I backed away, pulse slamming.

“You both need to leave.”

Lucian took another step. “We’re not the ones you should be afraid of.”

And then—

A howl.

Low. Echoing. Not far off.

Kade’s entire posture shifted.

Lucian’s jaw tightened.

“That was a warning,” Lucian said darkly. “Someone else is coming.”

“Rogues,” Kade muttered. “Of course.”

I slammed the door shut behind me, locked it, bolted it, and turned back to them both. “Someone explain what the hell is going on. Now.”

Lucian’s eyes locked on mine.

“You were born of two rival lines—one royal, one cursed. That makes you the prophecy’s trigger.”

“Prophecy?” I echoed, voice shaking.

Kade nodded grimly. “And now that you’ve crossed into Silverclaw Ridge, the claiming has begun.”

“The what?”

Lucian said it softly. Too softly.

“The wolves are coming to claim you.

The house trembled.

Not metaphorically. Literally.

Floorboards creaked under invisible weight. The fire in the hearth flared high for a blink—blue and furious—then guttered out like it had been scared silent.

Lucian’s eyes went icy. “Get away from the windows.”

I didn’t move. “Why? What’s out there?”

Kade cursed under his breath and crossed the room in three strides, pulling me toward the stairs. “They’re not waiting anymore. They’re here.”

Bang.

Something slammed against the back door.

Bang. Bang.

“Okay, nope,” I muttered. “Not today, Satan.”

Lucian drew something from inside his coat—a silver dagger etched with glowing runes. “Raven, listen to me. If anything happens—”

The back door exploded inward.

Wood splintered. A shadow surged through the frame—tall, half-shifted, teeth bared and red eyes gleaming like a demon in wolf skin.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I couldn’t scream.

I couldn’t breathe.

But Lucian was already there. He moved faster than I could track—one second at my side, the next in front of the rogue, blade slicing clean through its arm.

Kade followed, shifting mid-air. One blink he was human, the next he was fur and fangs, crashing into the rogue with a snarl that echoed through the rafters.

The two wolves collided in a blur of blood and muscle. Claws raked. Fangs tore. Another rogue barreled through the ruined door.

Lucian growled—his body flickering, then vanishing in a flash of blue-black fur.

I backed up, chest heaving. The walls felt too close. My skin itched. Burned.

A rogue broke off from the fight.

And locked eyes with me.

That’s when I felt it.

Something ancient, hot, and terrifying broke loose inside me. It roared to life like fire catching dry leaves. A surge of heat rose from my stomach, climbed into my chest, and burst into my hands.

The rogue lunged.

I didn’t think. I didn’t aim.

I just reacted.

A shockwave of light exploded from my body—white-hot and laced with silver. The rogue didn’t just stop—it flew back, smashed through a bookshelf, and hit the wall with a crack.

Silence.

Smoke curled from my fingers.

The floor beneath me glowed.

Lucian shifted back into human form, his body streaked with blood and soot, eyes wide with something between awe and disbelief.

“Hellfire,” he breathed. “You summoned hellfire.”

Kade limped into view, shirt torn, blood trailing down his side. “She’s not supposed to be able to do that. Not yet.”

Lucian stepped toward me slowly, hands raised like I was a wild animal about to bolt.

“Raven,” he said gently. “You’ve awakened.”

My knees buckled. I dropped to the floor, still glowing faintly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t need to,” Lucian said. “It was already in you.”

Kade crouched beside me. “That power… it’s from the Blackthorn line. Sealed for twenty-one years.”

Lucian nodded grimly. “And now the seal’s broken.”

I looked between them, heart hammering. “So what happens now?”

Lucian’s gaze darkened. “Now every pack in the region knows you’re alive.”

“And they’ll come,” Kade said, voice low. “To claim you. Or kill you.”

“Great,” I muttered. “Love that for me.”

Then the mirror in the hall cracked.

A single fracture, running down the middle.

In the reflection, my eyes were no longer brown.

They were silver.

And they were glowing.