I felt like I was fighting battles on several fronts. At school, at home, and with this strange thing between me and Ethan. I had no words for it. We weren't friends. I barely knew him, and yet I couldn't shake the feeling of being slowly boiled under the heat of his attention. The pressure of his avoidance. It made no sense.

  Whatever was going on between us wasn't simple attraction. Not in any conventional sense. It wasn't butterflies in the stomach. It wasn't gingerly awaiting when I would get to see him. In fact, I dreaded it as much as it intrigued me.

  This pull. The way he leaned toward me just a fraction, like I was a magnet and he was metal. The way his eyes reached beneath my skin.

  It was both disturbing and intriguing that I should affect him the way I did, but Nell's observation had confirmed it wasn't all just in my head.

  And that was a clue.

  ****

  That evening I sat at the desk in my room, opened a notebook, and began writing everything I knew so far in a numbered list.

  1. People here don't act like normal people.

  Not individually, and especially not in groups.

  There's a pattern I can't name, but it's obvious to anyone with an eye for it. Sometimes they move like a single organism.

  2. They react to me. Like my very presence hits their nerves.

  3. The boys seem to react more strongly than the girls. Girls react because boys do.

  That day in the courtyard, before Ethan got up, the boys were closing in on me. And then he moved, and they stopped.

  4. Ethan reacts the strongest of all. But not in a way I understand. It's not a crush. It's something other, deeper and more intense.

  5. The others move in reaction to him. Almost like a shockwave.

  Is there some kind of system at work here? A hierarchy?

  6. Nell keeps telling me what to do and what not to do instead of telling me why. It sounds like rules, but not the school kind. Not the normal kind.

  7. The girls hate me for reasons that feel less like jealousy and more like I'm some sort of threat, which doesn't make sense. They said Ethan "staked claim" that day in the courtyard. I don't know what it is, but I don't like how it sounds. They called me "bloodkin." A local slur or something else? They also mentioned that I'm messing with everyone's heads. Odd. I don't see how that's possible but the way they all behave around me suggests otherwise.

  8. Dad is hiding something big.

  When I mentioned Mom, his reaction was more intense than I'd expected. Then again, he and Mom seemed closer and more in love than I've seen in my friends' parents, so maybe that's the reason.

  He flipped when I mentioned the woods. That means whatever this is, it's connected to the woods. And he's afraid of it. And of Ethan, for some reason.

  9. My family knows everything, and they're working overtime to make sure I remain in the dark.

  Jack and Elise treat me like I am a time bomb encased in crystal, fragile and dangerous at the same time.

  10. Whatever this town's deal is, it started long before I was born.

  Elise mentioned ours was one of the two founding families. The other is Ethan and Nell's. Dad's reaction to Ethan suggests there might be some rivalry there, but the fact that he's made a deal with their dad to make Nell my personal bodyguard contradicts that. Ethan insinuated there was some kind of deal between our fathers designed to keep me in the dark. But why?

  11. Whatever this town is, whatever these people are,

  the truth is circling me in the dark.

  I sat back, inspecting the list. In the margin I had written several words, not normal, hierarchy, two families, woods, claim, bloodkin.

  I let out a bitter laugh as a chill rolled down my spine. They sounded like a cult. A dangerous cult. They were either that or… The thought that followed was so ridiculous I forced it away.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  ****

  The stairs creaked in a now familiar cadence as I slowly climbed down to the kitchen. Warm kitchen smells of garlic and butter enveloped my senses. But deep down underneath, I could still smell faint echoes of wet fur.

  I found Elise standing at the counter, slicing carrots into unnervingly identical pieces. Her movements were fast, practiced, like she was a professional chef.

  "Hi," I said, stepping inside. "Need help with anything?"

  Elise looked up immediately, her smile brightening like someone had flicked on a switch.

  "Oh, Kelsey, dear! How lovely of you. Yes, actually, would you mind washing these?" She nudged a bowl of green beans toward me. I moved to the sink, rolling up my sleeves, trying to look relaxed, harmless, unthreatening. Her eyes followed my movements with a warm curiosity that somehow still felt like scrutiny.

  "How was school today?" she asked as she resumed chopping.

  "Good," I said lightly. "We learned about Cold Creek's early history, actually."

  The knife paused mid-air.

  "Oh?" Elise said, her tone still sugary but suddenly too alert. "And what did they teach you?"

  I rinsed the beans slowly, buying myself a few seconds.

  "That the town was founded around a logging camp," I said. "And that two families, ours and the Greystones, practically carved the town out of the forest."

  A faint, pleased hum escaped her throat.

  "Well, that part is correct," she said. "This town has always relied on strong leadership. It's our tradition."

  I kept my tone curious, not confrontational.

  "Teacher said leadership always passed between the two families. Blackwell and Greystone. Is that really how it's worked for a hundred and fifty years?"

  "Mm-hmm." Elise's smile deepened. "It may sound old-fashioned, but it's what kept this place stable. Some people are simply born to lead."

  She didn't need to spell out who she meant.

  I dried my hands on a towel and moved back toward the counter.

  "Jack mentioned something once," I said carefully. "That Dad was supposed to take Jason's place."

  Elise's smile flickered. A tiny crack. She recovered quickly.

  "Yes, well," she said, slicing a carrot a little too fast, "Gabriel was meant to take over after Jack retired. That was the natural order of things. But your father made different choices."

  "Because of Mom?" I asked softly.

  Elise's posture shifted. A muscle tightened at the corner of her jaw.

  "No," she said quickly. Then, noticing her mistake, she added in a softer tone, "I mean, Gabriel and Diane had their own plans. Young love can be very impulsive."

  Something told me she wasn't telling the truth. I decided not to push. Not yet.

  "I guess things would have been different if Mom stayed here," I said.

  A sharper flicker crossed Elise's eyes.

  "No," she said under her breath. Then she blinked hard and pasted on her brightest smile. "No, dear. I mean, that wasn't possible. They chose their own path."

  The slip hung between us like a low, vibrating wire.

  I reached for the cutting board, pretending I didn't hear the storm beneath her voice.

  "Nell's been helping me a lot at school," I said. "She makes things easier."

  "Oh, that's wonderful," Elise said, her smile warming again. "Nell is a good girl. Her father raised her right. Our families have always been aligned in our priorities."

  "Aligned?" I repeated gently. "Like politically, or something else?"

  "Both," Elise said with a shrug. "Greystones and Blackwells always put Cold Creek first. That's why strong leadership and stability have always been our priority. The arrangements via unions with potential for that certain quality have simply been a means to achieve that."

  My heart thudded once.

  There it was.

  Cryptic as hell, but I understood the gist of it.

  "Unions meaning marriages?" I asked, letting my voice sound a little shocked, a little amused.

  Elise hesitated.

  Her fingers tightened on the knife.

  Then she forced a light laugh.

  "Oh, it's not as dramatic as it sounds," she said. "It isn't binding. It's simply a tradition. A nudge, you could say. Most young people don't mind. They usually grow fond of each other."

  "Usually?" I prodded softly.

  "Well, yes." Elise tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, not looking at me. "For example, Gabriel was meant to marry Natalie, who is now Jason's wife."

  I froze.

  "Wait," I said slowly. "Mrs. Greystone? You mean she and Dad?"

  "Oh, no, dear." Elise dismissed the thought with a wave, though her cheeks had gone a shade too pink. "They never reached that stage. It was simply anticipated."

  Anticipated.

  Expected.

  A tradition.

  My blood felt cold.

  "What happened?" I asked gently.

  Elise lowered her gaze to the cutting board. She didn't answer immediately.

  "Gabriel met your mother," she said softly. Then, quieter, "And once a bond forms, well. Nothing overrides that." Her shoulders fell.

  There it was again, the same word Ethan used. She said bond, not love. The wrongness of it itched beneath my skin.

  I swallowed, my throat suddenly too dry. "So if Dad had married her, Jason wouldn't be the leader?"

  Elise smiled again, wide, warm, too rehearsed.

  "Oh, dear, don't trouble yourself with old small-town politics. What is done is done." She reached up and touched my face. Her palm was cold and moist, her teeth too shiny. "But all turned out alright. We wouldn't have you girls otherwise."

  I nodded, though something ugly settled in the pit of my stomach.

  "Thank you for explaining," I said.

  Her hand moved toward my forearm, and I was glad a vest blocked contact with my skin.

  "Of course, sweetheart," Elise said softly. "You're family. And family deserves the truth."

  But she didn't say whose truth.

  And not once did her eyes leave mine.

  ****

  As I stepped out of the kitchen, Hailey's bright, bubbly laugh floated down the hallway. The kind of sound no darkness could touch.

  I paused in the doorway.

  The living room lights were dimmed to a soft amber glow. Shadows gathered in the corners, but the center of the room was warm.

  Hailey was curled up in Dad's lap, her head resting on his chest as she giggled at whatever cartoon played on the TV. Dad's arm wrapped around her small frame, gentle yet steady. His weary face softened as she laughed, pointing to the screen, his lips curving in a small smile. It was only a ghost of the way he smiled before. But it was real.

  For a moment, everything in me ached. Then, as if he felt me watching, his eyes flickered toward me in brief acknowledgement, then returned to Hailey.

  My gaze drifted across the room.

  Jack sat in the far corner, a thick book open in his lap. The lamp beside him glowed low, barely bright enough for reading. Too dim, really. Something in that picture was off, but I couldn't tell what. I turned and started climbing the stairs. It was when my leg met the sixth stair that it hit me. Jack wasn't squinting. Wasn't leaning closer. Wasn't wearing glasses.

  My stomach dipped, the tiniest flutter of unease.

  Then I shook my head sharply.

  You're becoming paranoid, I told myself. People his age can just have good eyesight. Not everything is a clue. Not everything is weird.

  Except everything was weird.

  I forced myself to turn away before the thought could dig deeper.

  In my room, the quiet welcomed me like a blanket. I sat at my desk, fingers trembling slightly as I reached for my notebook.

  My gaze skimmed down the list of observations, the scattered words and questions, the unraveling pieces of a truth I wasn't meant to touch.

  Slowly, I lifted the pen.

  On the margin, in the blank space underneath the other keywords, I wrote one more word. In capital letters.

  BOND.

  I set the pen down and stared at the word until it blurred, a cold certainty settling low in my stomach.

  Whatever was happening in this town wasn't random. It was unique to this place, to these people.

  And somehow I knew, whatever it was,

  it was tied to me.