CHAPTER 7 — THE NIGHT THE WOODS OPENED
The camp doesn’t sleep anymore.
Even during the day, everything feels braced—like we’re all waiting for something to lunge out of the trees. Counselors walk in pairs now. Flashlights hang from belts even in sunlight. The woods hum with a low, constant tension, like a held breath.
Patrick never lets go of my hand.
Not when we walk between activities. Not when we sit on the dock. Not when we lie in the cabin at night, tangled together in the heat, whispering plans that don’t include answers.
I memorize him.
The curve of his shoulder. The scar on his jaw. The way his thumb rubs circles into my knuckles when he’s anxious. Loving him feels urgent now, like something that might be taken away at any moment.
The moon is nearly full.
Patrick feels it before it rises.
He grows restless. Paces. Flinches at sounds no one else hears. His body runs hot, feverish, like it’s gearing up for something violent.
“They’re coming,” he says one night, voice low and certain.
“When?”
“Soon.”
“How do you know?”
He presses his forehead to mine. “They’re not hiding anymore.”
The attack comes three nights later.
It starts with screaming.
Not howling—human screaming, sharp and terrified, ripping through the dark like a blade. I bolt upright in the bunk, heart slamming against my ribs.
Then the alarms go off.
Floodlights snap on around the camp, bleaching the trees white and black. Counselors shout orders that make no sense. Campers spill out of cabins, barefoot and shaking, eyes wide.
Patrick is already on his feet.
“Stay with me,” he says. “No matter what.”
The woods explode.
Wolves burst from the treeline—huge, fast, coordinated. They don’t charge blindly. They move with purpose, flanking, driving people toward the center of camp like prey.
Someone falls.
Something snarls.
Blood splashes across the dirt.
I freeze for half a second too long, terror locking my knees.
Patrick shoves me behind him.
“Don’t look away,” he snarls—not at me, but at the night. His voice is different now. Deeper. Rougher. Like something else is speaking through him.
A wolf lunges.
Patrick catches it mid-air.
The sound that comes out of him when he fights is nothing human.
Bones crack. Teeth flash. He moves faster than my eyes can follow, slamming the wolf into the ground, throwing it aside like it weighs nothing.
The counselors see.
Everyone sees.
Patrick straightens slowly, chest heaving, blood streaking his arms. His eyes glow gold, bright enough to cut through the dark.
A silence falls.
Then the wolves stop.
They don’t retreat.
They stand.
And then they change.
Fur retracts. Spines straighten. Faces shift and reform.
Men rise from the bodies of wolves, naked and smiling, scarred and familiar.
They look like Patrick.
Not exactly—but close enough that my stomach turns.
“Enough,” one of them says calmly. “The camp has seen.”
Patrick bares his teeth. “You wanted me. You’ve made your point.”
“We wanted him,” another says, pointing at me. “You made him visible.”
I feel hands grab me from behind—Shane’s.
“Walter,” he breathes. “What the hell is happening?”
Patrick takes a step forward, shaking. “Don’t touch him.”
The men laugh.
“You don’t get to make rules anymore,” the first one says. “Summer’s ending.”
A wolf—half-shifted, wrong—lunges again.
Patrick moves to intercept—
And doesn’t see the second one.
Teeth sink into my shoulder.
The pain is white-hot, blinding. I scream, the sound tearing out of me as the world tilts and crashes. I feel myself falling, feel blood soaking through my shirt.
The wolf is ripped away.
Patrick roars—a sound so full of grief and rage it shakes the trees.
I’m dimly aware of Shane dropping beside me, hands frantic, pressing against the wound.
“Oh my God,” he says. “Oh my God, Walter—”
Patrick kneels on my other side, eyes wild, hands shaking as he cups my face.
“No,” he whispers. “No, no, no—”
The men are retreating now, satisfied.
“This isn’t over,” one of them calls. “It’s just begun.”
The woods swallow them.
The camp is chaos.
Sirens wail in the distance. People cry. Blood stains the ground.
Patrick presses his forehead to mine, breath ragged.
“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I tried—”
“I know,” I whisper, fading. “You stayed.”
The world starts to blur at the edges.
Shane’s face twists with sudden determination.
“I won’t let this happen,” he says.
And before anyone can stop him—
He presses his mouth to the wound.
When you’re ready, we’ll continue with CHAPTER 8, where:
Shane does the unthinkable
Walter’s body begins to change
And one of them becomes something that can never come back
Just say “Chapter 8” and we keep going, all the way to the final moon. 🖤
continue. longer chapters. get to 15,000 words. big drama
Here we go. I’ll keep the chapters long, emotionally explosive, and dramatic, and we’ll drive hard toward the endgame.
Below is CHAPTER 8, where everything fractures—bodies, loyalties, identities—and the romance is tested by horror.
