Little witch

Arrival

Adeline's P.O.V

The bus screeched to a stop, and I tightened my grip on my backpack, my nails digging into the worn leather. My legs felt stiff from hours of sitting, but I couldn't help the small sigh that escaped me. South Carolina. It felt different here, the air thicker, heavier with humidity. I brushed a stray lock of copper hair out of my face, the strands sticking to my skin in the warmth.

My boots hit the gravel as I stepped off the bus, a small cloud of dust kicking up beneath me. It was quiet. Too quiet. I tugged the straps of my backpack over my shoulders, feeling the weight of everything I owned pressing against me. I wasn't used to this kind of stillness, the kind that made you feel like someone was watching your every move.

I ran a hand through my hair, the copper strands bright against the dull backdrop of the small town. My pale skin was already reacting to the sun, but the freckles dotting my nose and cheeks had long since stopped bothering me. I'd been through worse than a sunburn.

The town itself was small—quaint, even. The kind of place that screamed "everyone knows everyone." It was the last place I should've been, really. I needed to stay off the radar. But I didn't have a choice. My journey from the West Coast had taken me far from home, and I was running out of places to hide.

I inhaled deeply, the air heavy with the scent of pine, damp earth, and something else, something primal. I could feel it in my bones. The wolves. I hadn't seen one in weeks, but I knew they were here. I could feel them. That ever-present tingle on the back of my neck.

I didn't need a map to know that I had wandered straight into their territory. The Red Moon Pack. The largest in North America. The kind of pack that would tear me apart if they found out who I really was. I'd done my best to avoid their kind since... since the fire.

My hand tightened around the strap of my backpack as I started walking into town. I kept my head down, not wanting to draw any attention to myself. I'd always stood out a little more than I liked, with my copper hair, pale skin, and curves that never quite let me disappear into a crowd the way I wanted to. Especially here.

Eyes followed me as I passed by a diner, and I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. I was used to the looks, but it didn't make me any less uneasy. I kept walking, pretending not to notice. I didn't need anyone remembering me. I was just a stranger passing through, nothing more.

As I crossed the street, the deep rumble of a motorcycle cut through the quiet. My heart skipped a beat, and I resisted the urge to look. I'd been in enough places to know the kind of people who rode bikes, and I didn't need any trouble. Not now. Not here.

But the noise grew louder, closer, until I couldn't ignore it. I risked a glance over my shoulder, and there he was—a blur of black leather and chrome, his bike tearing down the road like it owned the place. For a split second, our eyes met, and my breath caught in my throat. He was striking, with messy dark hair and eyes that seemed to burn with untamed energy.

I tore my gaze away and quickened my pace. It didn't matter who he was. I wasn't here to make friends, and I certainly wasn't here to get involved with anyone. Especially not anyone who looked like him.

The wolves were here. I could feel them. And I wasn't about to stick around long enough to find out what they'd do if they found me.