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The first thing I feel is heat. Radiating beneath my skin. Pooling low in my belly. Tangling in the ache between my thighs and the dull throb in my core.

The second thing is confusion.

I’m on the couch—a blanket twisted around my legs, chest bare, skin damp and overheated. The room is bright, the flickering glow of the Netflix menu is still frozen on the last movie we watched.

I blink slowly, brain struggling to boot up. My breath comes shallow and fast, my heart stuttering like I’ve been running. Like I’ve just?—

Been chased.

The memory slams into me like a truck.

Fog. Trees. The Evergloom. My feet pounding the forest floor. Rad’s voice in my ear. His claws on my hips. His teeth at my throat. The heat of him as he took me.

My stomach flips.

It was a dream.

But my body tells a different story.

I shift slightly—and a sharp, unmistakable ache throbs between my legs. Not just soreness. Not like a pulled muscle or a crick in the neck. It’s the deep, possessive kind of ache you get when someone’s been deep inside you for a long time.

My face burns.

The worst part isn’t the soreness. Or the heat still simmering in my veins. It’s the fact that I remember every second. Every sound I made. Every place he touched. Every time I begged for more.

And I fucking liked it.

God. What is wrong with me?

I glance down at myself, at my sweat-slick skin, the faint bruising blooming around my hips. There’s a sharp line of claw imprints, half-hidden beneath the blanket. And worse—something sticky against the curve of my ass. Cum. A whole fucking lot of it.

Rad’s cum.

I shift again, slower this time, dragging the blanket over my chest as I sit upright. My head is still swimming, but a low groan finally draws my attention to the figure beside me.

Hudson.

He’s lying half-twisted against the couch cushions, one arm flung over his forehead, the other hanging over the edge like he fell asleep mid-reach. His bare chest rises and falls with shallow, uneven breaths. His jaw is tight, the muscles in his face twitching like he’s caught in a dream he can’t escape.

My chest constricts.

I turn slightly, careful not to jostle him, and that’s when I see it.

The bite.

A deep, raw imprint sinking into the thick muscle of his neck like a brand. The skin around it is dark and angry, raised like it was burned into him instead of bitten.

I lean closer, reaching out on instinct before I can stop myself. My fingers hover just above the mark. “Fuck,” I whisper. “Hudson…”

The image of Rad’s fangs flash behind my eyes. The way he bit down—hard enough to mark, not enough to kill. A warning. A message. Maybe both.

Hudson shifts, another low groan spilling from his lips. His brow twitches as if he senses my closeness and my fingers tremble. But I don’t pull away.

I should’ve protected him better. This is my fault.

He’s hurt because of me.

Even if Rad helped me save his life, even if I didn’t ask for what came after, even if I’d been asleep when Hudson was attacked… the guilt still wraps tight around my throat.

Hudson stirs. His fingers twitch first, then his arm drops from his face, and slowly his eyes crack open. His gaze is hazy at first, unfocused, like he’s not entirely sure where he is. But then his eyes find mine and everything sharpens.

He blinks, sits up halfway, then winces and reaches instinctively for his neck. His fingers brush the bite mark, and his breath hitches. He doesn’t speak right away. Just stares at me. At the way I won’t meet his eyes.

I fumble with the blanket—just trying to adjust it—and it slips revealing the aftermath.

His gaze catches—and this time, it doesn’t slide away. He tugs the blanket, exposing me fully. I gasp and reach for it, but he doesn’t let it go.

He takes it all in. Every inch. Every mark.

His mouth opens like he wants to say something, then closes again. A muscle ticks in his cheek.

My heart pounds so loudly I can barely hear the silence stretching between us.

Finally, he rasps, “Did he…?”

The question hangs unfinished, but I know what he means. And I don’t want to answer. I can’t.

I yank the blanket from him with trembling fingers, quickly covering back up, as if that might somehow undo what he’s already seen.

But it’s too late.

Hudson’s staring at me like I’m a stranger. His breath catches. Then he blinks, slow and disoriented, as if the world just tilted sideways beneath him.

He drags a hand over his face. Winces.

His fingers brush the bite on his neck again, and this time, the contact seems to jar something loose. His eyes widen and his posture stiffens.

“I…” He swallows hard, voice rough. “I went outside. For the groceries.”

My throat tightens and all I can do is nod.

“I stepped onto the porch, and the floor gave out. Then something—his shadows, I think—grabbed me from underneath.” His hand lowers to his thigh, as if he’s remembering how it felt. “I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Like… something was draining me. I remember you calling my name—then nothing.”

He looks at me, gaze flicking across my face, searching for something. “Next thing I know, I’m in a forest and you were in that beast’s arms…” His voice drops on the last word, raw and uncertain. Not angry. Not yet.

Just wrecked.

His eyes drop again—unintentionally, instinctively—and I see the moment it all connects. The bruises. The slick mess.

And just like that, his expression hardens.

Hudson sits up straighter. The haze vanishes from his gaze, replaced with something fiercer. Darker.

Protective.

Possessive.

Broken.

“He touched you,” he says hoarsely, more to himself than to me. “ That fucking thing —he touched you, didn’t he?”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

“I’m going to kill him.”

I flinch.

That’s all it takes—those four words, spit like venom—and something inside me tightens.

“Really?” I bite out before I can stop myself. “That’s what you’re worried about right now?”

Hudson’s eyes narrow. “You think I’m not allowed to be furious? You think I’m not allowed to care?”

“I think maybe you should care about the right thing,” I snap. “We were pulled into some kind of… other realm, in a dream, except it was real. I don’t even understand how any of this is possible and you’re jumping straight to murder like this is some medieval duel for my honor.”

“He fucking hurt you,” he growls, standing abruptly.

“He didn’t—” I stop myself. Too late.

Hudson’s jaw flexes. “He didn’t?”

“Not like that,” I say quickly. Too quickly.

He runs a hand through his hair, pacing now, anger pulsing off him in waves. “You’re covered in bruises, Parker. You’re shaking. You look like you’ve been—” His voice breaks, like the words are too much.

I rise to my feet too, still wrapped in the blanket. “Stop. You don’t get to decide what happened to me.”

His gaze snaps to mine. “Then tell me.”

“I…” I can’t seem to come up with the right words to explain. Nothing feels adequate. Hell, I’m not sure I understand enough to voice any of it out loud.

Hudson snarls, mistaking my silence for something else. “Goddammit, he can’t just take what he wants like that,” he responds, voice like steel. “I’ll make him pay for it, Silver. I will. For defiling you?—”

Something inside me snaps.

Oh, hell no.

I already knew the moment he met Rad might change things. That seeing the monsters up close—the truth of my life—might finally be too much. I even braced for him to run again, like he did in the beginning.

I could’ve forgiven that.

What I wasn’t prepared for was this.

Not him standing there, casting judgment the second things stopped going his way. Not the anger. Not the wounded pride. Not him looking at me like I’m something dirty just because I didn’t play the part he wanted me to.

“For defiling me?” The laugh that rips from my throat is ugly. Bitter. “Oh, fuck off, Hudson.”

He jerks back like I slapped him. “What?”

“You’re acting like I didn’t have a say in any of it.” I snap, each word sharper than the last. “Like I was just some helpless little doll getting dragged into the shadows and chased by the big bad wolf. Like I didn’t want it.”

His face goes still, unreadable—but his jaw clenches. “Did you?” he asks, barely above a whisper. “Want it?”

The shame is instant. Thick. Suffocating. I look away. My throat closes up.

“That’s not the point,” I say quietly, but it sounds like a lie even to me.

“The hell it isn’t,” he insists. “You’re standing there covered in his—” He cuts himself off, chest heaving. “And you’re acting like this is normal.”

I laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you under the impression that any of this is fucking normal?”

Hudson doesn’t move. His face is stone, but I see it—the cracks. The hurt. The anger. The disbelief. And I feel guilt, and shame, and I hate that he once again is witness to my moments of vulnerability.

“Just answer me, Parker. Please.”

“Fine,” I snap, loud enough to make him flinch. Because anger is easier than showing him how confused I really am. “You want to know so bad? I wanted it. I let him touch me. Chase me. Fuck me. I begged him to.”

The silence that follows is louder than any scream.

Hudson stares at me like I just ripped out his heart with my bare hands.

And maybe I did. And maybe it’s for the best.

“I didn’t ask for this,” I say, softer now. “But you’re right. I didn’t stop him either. So yeah… I guess that makes me as fucked up as I’ve always felt.”

Hudson says nothing. His eyes are glassy, unreadable, his mouth pressed into a hard line.

I wrap the blanket tighter around myself, suddenly freezing. “Do you even realize what just happened? We were pulled into a dream that was real. That place—the Evergloom. It wasn’t just in my head. And all you care about is whether or not I liked being railed by a monster.”

He closes his eyes, shaking his head like he can’t bear to hear any more.

“You almost died, Hudson,” I whisper. “Because of me. You should be mad at that. Not this.”

When he doesn’t answer, when he just stands there—silent and hurt and burning—I feel something fracture inside me.

“God, what are we even doing?” I mutter, turning away. “You don’t belong in this. You never did.”

His head snaps up. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true,” I whisper, throat tight. “You’re not built for this, Hudson. You’re not made for monsters. And you definitely weren’t made for a girl like me. You were meant for someone who can give you normalcy… Someone like… Jenna.”

My voice almost breaks on the name, the idea more hurtful than I expected. My eyes burn with unshed tears and I internally yell at them to say put and not fall, holding onto my anger as tightly as I am the blanket.

He takes a step toward me. I take one back.

“Parker—”

“You should go.”

He freezes. “No. Absolutely not.”

“I mean it,” I say, and this time my voice cracks. “I need you to leave. Please. Before you get hurt again. Or worse. I can’t keep watching you get torn apart because of me.”

He looks like he’s about to argue, but then his shoulders fall.

And that hits me harder than anything.

“I can’t protect you,” I whisper. “Not from this. Not from me.”

He stares at me like he wants to fight. Like he wants to scream.

But he doesn’t.

Because he knows he’s already lost this round.

And maybe me.

I turn away, blinking fast as the sting continues to hit the backs of my eyes, those tears becoming heavier by the second, but still being held back. “I’m going to take a shower,” I whisper. My voice is barely audible over the sound of my own heartbeat. “When I come out…”

I can’t look at him when I say it.

“I want you to be gone.”

The silence that follows is unbearable.

He’s good. Too good.

And I don’t deserve good. Good never survives when I’m involved.

My heart cracks wide open.

I don’t say anything else. If I do, I’ll take it back. And I can’t take it back. I shouldn’t take it back. Not this time.

So I turn and walk down the hall. Each step feels heavier than the last. Like I’m walking through molasses. Like I’m moving further and further away from something I’ll never get back.

When the bathroom door closes behind me, I don’t turn on the shower right away.

I press my back to the door.

And finally let the tears fall.