The house was quiet when Ahaana woke up.
She sat up on the couch, rubbing sleep from her eyes. The hoodie still smelled like Vikram—like pinewood and rain and something ancient she couldn't name. But the moment she opened her eyes fully, she realized something was wrong.
Vikram was gone.
A note lay on the coffee table:
**"Had to take care of something. Be back before nightfall. Stay inside. Please. —V"**
She frowned. Stay inside? Since when did he give her *rules*?
She tried to brush off the unease, but it stayed like a shadow clinging to her skin.
---
Vikram was at the edge of the city, cloaked in shadows, watching.
The old warehouse looked abandoned, but he could smell them inside—*hunters*. He stayed hidden, silent, invisible to human eyes.
He wasn't there to fight.
He was there to be *sure*.
And then he saw him.
A man in his mid-40s, tall, broad-shouldered, with a trimmed beard and eyes sharp like knives. He wore a long coat, a silver dagger strapped to his hip, and an expression carved from stone.
*Veer Roy.*
Ahaana's father.
He hadn't changed much in thirty years.
Veer barked orders to the others—young hunters, armed and tense. He was clearly their leader. His voice carried authority, but his tone was laced with something else—*hatred*.
"We track the scent east," Veer said. "Whatever attacked those hikers wasn't a normal wolf. It was fast, brutal, and precise. I've seen it before. I know what it was."
"Another vampire?" one of the hunters asked.
Veer's eyes narrowed. "No. A werewolf."
Vikram's breath caught.
"And if there's a werewolf in this city," Veer continued, "it means one thing: the bloodlines are still alive. And that's a threat I *will* destroy."
Vikram clenched his jaw.
He had to get back to Ahaana.
Now.
---
But back at home, Ahaana was already on her way to discovering the truth.
She had tried to distract herself by cleaning, but her mind kept spinning. Something Vikram had said in passing the night before came back to her:
*"I think your mother knew what she was."*
That thought led her to the attic—her father's attic. The one room in the house she was told never to enter.
She didn't hesitate now.
Dust swirled as she pulled the old door open. The air was thick with memories and secrets.
She found a trunk beneath a sheet. Locked, but the lock was old. She pried it open with a metal rod.
Inside were faded photographs, yellowed letters… and weapons.
Knives. Silver stakes. A crossbow.
Her stomach dropped.
She picked up an old photograph—her mother, young and beautiful, standing beside a man she barely recognized as her father. There was writing on the back in delicate handwriting:
**"To Veer, from your wild heart. —Anaya"**
There were also newspaper clippings.
*Mysterious Deaths in the Forest – Locals Fear Wild Animal*
*Silver Bullet Found at Crime Scene*
One headline caught her breath:
**"Local Man Claims Wife Was 'Not Human' Before Disappearance."**
Her hands trembled.
She sat down on the dusty floor, heart pounding, eyes burning.
Her mother was a werewolf.
Her father… a hunter.
Everything suddenly made sense—the coldness, the absence, the unspoken pain in their house. He hadn't ignored her because he didn't care.
He was afraid of her.
---
That night, Vikram returned.
He found Ahaana standing in the living room, the photo in her hand, her eyes rimmed red.
"You knew," she said softly.
He hesitated. "Yes."
Her voice was hollow. "Why didn't you tell me my father was a hunter?"
"I wanted to protect you," Vikram said gently. "I didn't want to break you more than you already were."
She looked at him, eyes flashing. "Well, too late for that."
"Ahaana—"
"He lied to me my whole life!" she shouted. "He hunted *my kind*. He hunted *my mother*!"
Vikram stepped forward. "And he's coming for you next."
That stopped her.
"What?"
"He doesn't know it's you yet," Vikram said. "But he's getting closer. The next full moon is just days away. He'll put the pieces together soon."
Ahaana backed away, her voice shaking. "He won't kill me. He's my *father*."
Vikram looked at her with sorrow. "And he's a hunter before anything else. You have no idea how deep this runs in their blood, Ahaana. They're trained to believe we're monsters."
Ahaana dropped onto the couch, burying her face in her hands. "What do I do?"
"You leave," Vikram said softly. "With me."
She looked up. "Run away?"
"For now. Until it's safe. Until we find a way to talk to him—if he'll listen. But I won't risk your life on *maybe*, Ahaana. I won't let you die for a bloodline war you never chose."
There was silence between them.
Then, slowly, she nodded.
"Okay," she whispered. "Let's run."
---
But even as they packed that night, a pair of silver eyes watched them from the woods.
Veer Roy had followed the scent.
And it had led him straight… to his daughter's door.