The wolf stared back at me on the wall, jaws a neon green snarl. I stepped back and surveyed my work as my spray can went quiet.

"Not bad, Navarro," I whispered to myself. My voice was swallowed by the salty wind off Silver Mane pier.

It was past midnight. The full moon poured through the broken windows of the abandoned warehouse, casting silver light on my painting of a wolf whose eyes were the same green as mine. The wolf's eyes, the same color and shape as mine, shone with something wild.

My phone buzzed. Mom again.

**Where are you? Shift ended early. Coming home?**

I replied quickly: **Studying at Sofia's. Be home soon.**

I hated to lie, but I couldn't share the truth with her: *Sorry Mom, I spray paint buildings because that's all that makes me feel good about living in this dull town.*

Waves crashed against the pier below. I packed up my spray cans into my pack, being gentle with the UV paint. That was expensive—it had taken me months to chip piece by piece from the art room.

Suddenly, I was dizzy and hot all over. These weird feelings had been happening more and more often. The doctor said it was stress, but it didn't seem right.

I placed my hand on the wolf's painted nose to steady myself. The paint was still sticky, but then something impossible happened.

The painting moved.

Not just deceive shadows. The fur on the wolf actually shifted beneath my touch, and its jaws yawned wider as if preparing to howl.

I pulled my hand back, pounding with excitement. "What the—"

"You're one of us."

The voice, rough and not quite human, was behind me. I spun, using my spray can as a shield.

A man stood in the doorway, his figure black against the moon. He was tall and lean with broad shoulders in a worn leather jacket. Stepping forward, I could see his face—sharp cheekbones, unkempt dark hair, and storm-gray eyes.

It was Kieran Holt. The runaway. The man everyone avoided.

"Back off," I warned, but my voice shook. "I don't want any trouble."

He wasn't staring at me, though. He was staring at my wolf painting in a dazed manner.

"That's not natural," he said, gesturing to my wolf. "Regular spray paint doesn't behave like that."

"Do what? It's a painting." I spun around, but the wolf wasn't moving anymore. It was once more just paint on brick.

Kieran stepped closer, disregarding my raised spray can. "Your eyes were glowing. Just now."

"Only your imagination's glowing. Or whatever you're on." I stepped back, uneasy. Everyone knew Kieran was trouble—expelled from school last year for fighting, rumored to be selling drugs.

He took a step closer, faster than I could escape, and put his hand on my wrist.

It was like a shock. A spark ran up my arm and into my skull, and suddenly I was seeing—

*Forest floor below me, moonlight filtering through trees, pine and something wild perfuming the air. My body going with unbelievable power and speed, muscles moving in ways that weren't human.*

I recoiled, gasping. "What did you just do to me?"

My phone rang loudly in my pocket. I drew it out, grateful for the interruption—

And came to a halt.

A program named PackSync—that I never installed—glowed on my screen:

**New Pack Member Discovered: Jade Navarro. Rank: Unclaimed. Status: Awakening.**

At the bottom was a small map that had two glowing points—one with 'Kieran Holt. Rank: Rogue. Status: Exiled' and the other was mine.

"What's this?" I gasped. "I never installed this."

The look on Kieran's face became serious. "You won't need to. It activates automatically when your blood comes alive."

"Your blood? What are you talking about?"

He moved forward, and I couldn't move back any more, stuck between him and my photograph. "You really don't know? No one said anything to you?"

"Told me what?" The dizziness was coming back more fiercely now, with burning pins and needles under my skin.

He bent in close. I caught the scent of forest and leather and something wild. "You're a wolf, Jade Navarro. And by that birthmark on your wrist—" he nodded toward the moon-shaped one I'd had my entire life, "—you're not any wolf."

I laughed, but it didn't sound natural even to me. "Sure. I'm secretly a werewolf. And you're what? A vampire? A zombie? Get out of my way."

As I tried to shove him aside, our shoulders bumped, and another vision exploded—*his body shifting, bones snapping, fur tearing through skin*—so real that I staggered.

"It's happening too quickly," he growled, catching my arm to steady me. His grip was too warm, too tight. "Someone's pushing you to shift too early.":

"Let go," I snarled, but my voice changed halfway through the sentence, sounding more like a growl.

My phone buzzed a second time. PackSync had an update:

**Alert: Alpha Heir En Route. ETA 3 minutes.**

Kieran cursed, reading my screen. "Ethan's coming. We need to go."

"Ethan Voss?" I frowned. Ethan was the most popular boy in Silver Mane High, and he'd never so much as glanced at me. "What would he want with me?"

"Anything," Kieran snarled, pulling me toward the door. "And he can't have you. Not yet."

I stepped back from him. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Fine." He moved away from the door. "But when you start shifting in the middle of the beach party tomorrow night, don't say I didn't warn you.",

He disappeared into the darkness, leaving me standing there, seething after him. My face was burning, and the wolf on the wall seemed to be looking at me.

My phone beeped again:

**Welcome to the Pack, Jade.**

I looked up at my painting, at the hazel eyes I had painted on the wolf—my eyes—and for an instant, they blinked.

A shiver coursed through me. Pack? What pack? And why did the word, coupled with the memory of Kieran's eye-piercing stare, make my chest curl up with a trapped bird fluttering its wings against my ribs?.

I shook my head, trying to shake off the weird feeling. Kieran Holt was trouble, a kid kids whispered about at school. His words had probably been just some sick joke to pull on me. There is no werewolf, no secret app that tracks your "awakening blood." It was all nuts.

But the recollection of the vision, the real feeling of changing, the fake warmth that had run through me. all of that seemed too horribly real.

I had to leave this house. Mom would be losing it, even if she thought I was "studying" at Sofia's. The dishonesty irritated me, another hit of stress on a night that already didn't make sense.

I loaded my spray cans into my backpack and hurried out of the warehouse. The smell of paint hung in the cold night air. The pier creaked beneath my sneakers, and the sound of the waves now became a crazy drumbeat instead of the normal comfort.

I kept walking, still looking at the moon-shaped birthmark on my left wrist. It had been there all along, a white crescent on my tan skin. I'd always thought it was some weird freckle. Kieran had called it a mark. What was he trying to say?

Ethan Voss's suggestion only made me more anxious. Popular guy, football star, from one of the richest families in town. Why would he on planet earth be "approaching," as that crazy app called it? He'd never even looked my way before.

I rushed as I reached the end of the pier and the familiar streets of Silver Mane. The houses were dark and quiet, but it was the calm before the storm. Any shadow was sinister, any quivering leaf tightened my muscles.

I arrived at our small, a little bit worn-out house, the porch light shining a dim yellow. I was relieved—a small sanctuary of safety in the spinning unknown.

The front door was left ajar. That was odd. Mom double-locked it.

"Mom?" I yelled, stepping into the darkened living room.

Stillness.

"Mom, you home?" My voice louder this time, shaking with terror.

The only sound the gentle tick of the old grandfather clock down the hall.

I probed the mini-house, going through her bedroom and small kitchen. Empty. Her bag sat on the countertop with keys inside. Her phone was still charging on the bedside table.

A chilling hardening knot twisted in my chest. Mom never left the house without her cell phone.

Then I saw it. A sheet of paper on the kitchen table, held down by a cat mug. My heart was pounding as I took it, my hand shaking.

The handwriting was Mom's, her own, scribbled and shaky.

Jade,

Don't worry. I had to go quickly. Everything will be all right later. Stay home and don't let anyone in.

Love,

Mom

Suddenly? At the moment of the night? And "explain everything later"? What was there to explain?

My gaze landed on tiny scratch marks on the back doorframe, by the lock. They weren't there this morning.

The second bout of dizziness was worse. The air in the kitchen was denser. My teeth. were sharper. My perceptions heightened—I could suddenly smell the pine needles on my backpack very intensely.

Kieran's threat suddenly occurred to me: "when you start changing in the middle of the beach party tomorrow night."

Tomorrow night. Tonight wasn't tomorrow. The evening was early.

And I was alone.

The back door creaked softly with a low scratching sound. I didn't breathe. That wasn't a person knocking. That wasn't human.

My heart thudded against my ribcage, a wild beat matching the wildness brewing inside me. My painting of my wolf, its glinting hazel eyes, flashed into my mind.

The scratching on the back door grew louder.

I backed away slowly, my eyes glued to the door. A low growl built in my chest—a sound I didn't know was mine.

Whatever was behind that door, I had a bad feeling it had something to do with that welcome message on my phone.

And I had a feeling my life—my typical broke-dreamer life—was over.