October is coming.
And the Weave has been so well behaved lately.
It has minded its manners. Kept its hands to itself. Let the wolves of La Push go about their little lives believing fate is something solemn, something sacred, something that arrives with thunder in the blood and the terrible weight of forever.
But October does funny things to old magic.
The nights get longer. The fog settles low between the trees. Pumpkins appear on porches, cinnamon hangs warm in kitchens, dead leaves skitter across the roads like little whispered secrets, and somewhere beneath all that rain-soaked earth, something ancient stretches awake and decides it is bored.
And there is nothing more dangerous than an old god with time on its hands.
So the Weave has made plans.
Eight of them, to be exact.
Eight wolves who have gotten entirely too comfortable.
Eight women who have absolutely no idea what is coming.
No monsters lurking in the dark.
No blood beneath the floorboards.
Just October in La Push, where the rain smells like cedar and woodsmoke, the boys are loud, the girls are lovely, and the thing that ties one soul to another has decided, for one glorious month, to stop being quite so serious.
After all—fate does not always arrive screaming.
Sometimes it wears a Halloween costume.
Sometimes it tastes like caramel apples.
Sometimes it knocks on the door.
And sometimes, darling, it waits until you open it.
EIGHT DATES WITH FATE
A La Push Halloween Special
🎃 Beginning October 1st.
The Weave has been waiting.
Have you?
