Chapter 1 Forbidden Border
I never meant to drive into another world that night. The GPS had failed twenty minutes before, somewhere between the last gas station and the unmarked turn that was supposed to lead to Gray Ridge Clinic. My new workplace. My punishment.
"You've arrived at your destination," my phone chirped mockingly as I found myself on a dirt road leading deeper into the forest. Moonlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting eerie shadows across my windshield. The hospital administrator had warned me the clinic was remote, but this was ridiculous.
The road narrowed further, and I slowed my car to a crawl. My headlights swept across something that made me slam on the brakes—strange markings etched into the ground, forming concentric circles across the path. They looked almost like... channels? Troughs? Something liquid gleamed within them, catching the moonlight.
"This can't be right," I muttered, reaching for my phone again. No signal. Perfect.
I should have turned back. Every medical instinct I'd developed over my career screamed danger. But after the incident at Metropolitan General—after the whispers, the suspensions, the humiliation—something in me refused to retreat. Dr. Alison Carter didn't get lost on her way to a new job. Not even one in the middle of nowhere.
I inched the car forward, trying to maneuver around the strange circular patterns. That's when I felt it—the sickening lurch as my front tire dropped into one of the grooves, followed by the spinning wheels of a car thoroughly stuck.
"Damn it!" I slammed my palms against the steering wheel. The engine whined as I tried to reverse, but the tire just dug deeper.
When I stepped out to assess the damage, the full moon emerged from behind the clouds, illuminating the clearing I'd blundered into. The circles weren't random. They formed an intricate pattern, like a massive spiral converging toward a stone altar at the center. This wasn't road construction. It was... ceremonial.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I reached into my medical bag, fingers brushing past scalpels and gauze until they found the hidden compartment at the bottom. Inside was the small silver vial my father had given me before he died.
"Just in case," he'd said. "Where you're going, you might need it."
At the time, I'd thought he was being dramatic. Now, as howls echoed through the trees, I wasn't so sure.
I didn't hear him approach. One moment I was alone, the next, a shadow detached itself from the treeline. A man—tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair that caught the moonlight. His movements were too fluid, too predatory.
"You're trespassing," he said, voice low and rough. "This area is restricted during the full moon."
"I'm Dr. Alison Carter," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm the new physician at Gray Ridge Clinic. I think I took a wrong turn."
He stepped closer, and I could see his face now—angular, with a strong jaw and piercing eyes that seemed to reflect the moonlight. There was something haunted in his expression, something that spoke of old pain. His right ear bore a jagged scar, as though something had torn away a piece of it.
"You're miles from the clinic," he said. "And you've driven into the middle of a sacred site."
Before I could respond, more figures emerged from the forest. Unlike the man before me, these moved on all fours, their shapes distorted and massive. Wolves. But impossibly large.
My hand tightened around the silver vial in my pocket.
"Connor!" A gravelly voice called from the edge of the clearing. An elderly man with long white hair stepped forward, leaning on a gnarled staff. "The circles have been breached. The ceremony cannot be delayed."
The man—Connor—never took his eyes off me. "She's the new doctor," he said.
"Then she should know better than to intrude where she doesn't belong," the old man replied. "Bring her. The council will decide."
Connor moved toward me with that same fluid grace, but I stepped back, pulling out the silver vial.
"Stay back," I warned.
Something shifted in his expression—recognition, then wariness. "We're not going to hurt you, Dr. Carter. But you can't stay here tonight."
"I'm not going anywhere with you." My medical training had taught me to assess threats quickly, and everything about this situation screamed danger.
That's when Connor's posture changed. His body tensed, and for a split second, I could have sworn his eyes gleamed gold in the moonlight. He moved with inhuman speed, closing the distance between us before I could uncap the vial.
His hand gripped my wrist, and I felt something sharp press against my throat. Not a knife—something organic. I froze as I realized what it was. A fang. A single, elongated canine tooth, pressing just hard enough to dimple the skin over my carotid artery.
Time seemed to stop. The pressure against my throat remained constant, not breaking the skin but making its deadly potential clear. I could feel Connor's breath, surprisingly warm against my chilled skin.
Then, suddenly, he went rigid. His nostrils flared, and he inhaled deeply near my collarbone. The pressure against my throat vanished as he pulled back slightly, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Moonlight bathed us both, and I felt a strange warmth spreading from the horseshoe-shaped scar beneath my left collarbone—a childhood injury I'd never fully remembered getting. Connor's gaze fixed on it, his expression transforming from threat to astonishment.
"Impossible," he whispered. His hand, still gripping my wrist, trembled slightly.
The elderly man approached, peering at my collarbone where the moonlight seemed to make my skin glow with an unusual pattern. His weathered face creased further.
"The mark of the Silver Moon Pack," he said in hushed tones. "How does a human carry our sacred emblem?"
Connor released my wrist and stepped back, his face a mask of conflicted emotions. "Take her to the village," he commanded, though his voice lacked its previous certainty. "Gather the council."
As several men surrounded me, I clutched my medical bag tighter. The silver vial remained in my pocket, untouched. Something told me I wouldn't need it—at least not yet.
"What about my car?" I asked, trying to sound practical despite the surreal situation.
"It will be dealt with," Connor replied, not looking at me. "You have more important concerns now, Dr. Carter." He paused, then added almost reluctantly, "Welcome to Gray Ridge."
As they led me into the forest, away from the road and deeper into the wilderness, I couldn't help but think about the hospital administrator's parting words: "Gray Ridge is different, Dr. Carter. The community there has... traditions. Respect them, and you'll be fine."
What she'd failed to mention was that those traditions apparently involved moonlit rituals, men with fangs, and wolves the size of small horses. Whatever medical exile I'd expected after the incident at Metropolitan, this wasn't it.
The horseshoe scar on my collarbone—the one I'd always attributed to a childhood accident—tingled with an unfamiliar warmth as we walked through the forest. Something about this place called to me, stirring memories that fluttered at the edges of my consciousness like moths around a flame.
I'd come to Gray Ridge seeking redemption. Instead, I'd found something far more dangerous—recognition in the eyes of strangers who seemed to know more about me than I did myself.
