Page 9 of Furever Bound (Hollow Oak Mates #7)

SERA

S era's discovery in the town's historical archives left her buzzing with excitement about her genuine academic breakthrough. She'd found documentation that suggested Grimjaw manifestations followed a predictable pattern tied to community stress levels and specific seasonal transitions.

Maddox studied her research with the focused intensity that made her pulse quicken, his piercing blue eyes moving between documents while his fingers drummed against his coffee mug in the rhythm she'd learned indicated deep thought.

"What kind of upheaval?" he asked, though something in his tone suggested he already suspected the answer.

"Economic stress, population changes, conflicts that divided community loyalty.

" She pointed to specific entries in the historical record.

"1847 was the year the original mining families left.

1923 followed the influenza outbreak that killed fifteen residents.

1956 was right after the highway project that threatened to bisect the town. "

"And 1982?"

"The year the federal government tried to claim eminent domain over the forest for a military training facility.

" She looked up from her notes to find him watching her with an expression that mixed admiration with something that looked suspiciously like concern.

"Every manifestation period coincided with times when Hollow Oak's residents felt isolated from each other and threatened by outside forces. "

"Impressive analysis," he said with genuine respect that made her cheeks warm with pleasure. "You've identified patterns that most researchers miss entirely."

"Because most researchers don't approach folklore as living cultural response to community psychology," she replied, settling back in her chair with satisfaction.

"But that's what this is, isn't it? Grimjaw isn't just a random monster story—it's a manifestation of collective anxiety about isolation and abandonment. "

The way Maddox went very still suggested she'd hit closer to truth than casual academic observation should allow.

"That's... one interpretation," he said carefully.

"It's the only interpretation that explains the consistency of details across different historical periods," she continued, warming to her theory.

"If Grimjaw were just evolving folklore, the descriptions would change over time.

But they don't. The creature appears the same way, in the same circumstances, following the same behavioral patterns. "

"And what does that suggest to you?"

"That either the storytellers have remarkable collective memory, or they're documenting encounters with something that actually exists."

The silence that followed her statement felt charged with significance, and she watched Maddox's internal struggle play across his features as he weighed how much truth to reveal.

"Sera," he began, then stopped as his phone buzzed.

She was getting tired of being interrupted just when conversations turned interesting, but this time she caught a glimpse of the message before he could hide it: "Manifestation accelerating. Electronics failing in geometric progression. Need immediate assessment."

"Manifestation?" she asked, her journalist instincts sharpening with the scent of real story. "That's an interesting word choice for whatever's happening around town."

"Local term for unusual weather patterns," he said, but his dismissive tone couldn't hide the way his shoulders tensed with obvious anxiety.

"Maddox," she said, leaning forward with direct attention that had served her well in interviews, "what exactly is happening in Hollow Oak? And don't give me another academic non-answer about mountain atmospheric conditions."

His jaw tightened as he clearly struggled between protective instincts and growing trust, and she found herself holding her breath while waiting for his response.

"There have been some unusual incidents recently," he admitted finally. "Electronics malfunctioning in specific patterns, residents reporting vivid nightmares, temperature fluctuations that don't match weather forecasts."

"Incidents that began around the time I arrived to research Grimjaw folklore," she said, the pieces clicking together with uncomfortable clarity.

"The timing is... notable," he agreed reluctantly.

"Notable enough that you've been monitoring my research activities to see if I'm somehow connected to whatever's happening?"

His inability to immediately deny her accusation was answer enough, and she felt a familiar blend of hurt and anger at discovering she'd been observed rather than trusted.

"It's not what you think," he said, reaching across the table as if to touch her hand before stopping himself.

"The connection isn't malicious or intentional on your part.

But your presence, your research focus, your documentation of specific legends—it all correlates with escalating supernatural activity. "

"Supernatural activity." She repeated the phrase like it tasted strange. "You're actually telling me that researching folklore is somehow causing supernatural events?"

"I'm telling you that some places have concentrations of energy that respond to belief and attention in ways that conventional science doesn't fully explain," he said, his academic training providing careful language for impossible concepts.

"Energy that responds to belief," she said slowly, testing the idea against her growing intuitive understanding of Hollow Oak's peculiarities. "Are you talking about actual supernatural forces, or some kind of psychological mass hysteria effect?"

"I'm talking about forces that exist whether or not modern terminology can adequately describe them," he replied, his tone carrying the weight of someone who'd witnessed things that challenged rational explanation.

Her phone vibrated with a notification. The screen showed a comment on her latest Instagram post from someone claiming to be planning a trip to Hollow Oak specifically to investigate the "Grimjaw legend" she'd mentioned in her content earlier before Maddox had come back.

"Oh no," she breathed, realizing the implications. "My social media posts. People are seeing my content and making plans to come here."

"How many people?" Maddox asked, his voice sharp with sudden alarm.

She scrolled through comments and shares, her stomach sinking as she saw the engagement numbers climbing. "Hundreds of comments. Dozens of shares. Multiple people discussing travel plans to research the legend themselves."

“What did you post?”

“Just what you said I could! I promise,” she defended.

“I told you people were dying for content like this, it didn’t take much but mentioning one legend no one has heard of.

I thought it was okay, I followed your protocols.

Plus I literally just did it, Maddox. I just wanted to see what legend would interest them. ”

The expression that crossed Maddox's face was pure panic, and she realized that whatever supernatural forces he believed were at work, the thought of crowds of amateur investigators descending on Hollow Oak terrified him.

"This changes everything," he muttered, already reaching for his phone. "I have to warn the Council."

"The Council?"

"Local governance," he said absently, typing what looked like urgent messages. "They need to know that external attention is about to escalate significantly."

As she watched him coordinate emergency responses to what should have been routine social media engagement, Sera realized that her carefully planned comeback story had become something far more complex and potentially dangerous than damaged career prospects.

Whatever was happening in Hollow Oak, whatever supernatural forces Maddox believed were at work, her documentation efforts had apparently triggered something that threatened the entire community's carefully maintained secrets.

And now outsiders were coming to investigate the very legends that might be manifesting into reality.