The night air in Beacon Hills was cold, carrying the scent of pine and smoke from distant chimneys. Beside you, Allison Argent adjusted her crossbow, her expression serious but steady.

“This one isn’t just some amateur,” she murmured, scanning the tree line. “If it’s a hunter gone rogue—or worse, something supernatural—they’re dangerous.”

You tightened your grip on the weapon she’d insisted you carry. It wasn’t just about protection; Allison trusted you enough to be her partner in this. That thought alone made your chest warm, even in the icy night.

The two of you had been following a trail of broken branches, claw marks, and strange sigils burned into bark. Each sign led deeper into the woods, where moonlight barely reached.

“Do you trust me?” Allison asked suddenly, her voice low but weighted.

“With my life,” you answered without hesitation.

Her eyes softened at that, and she gave the faintest smile before nodding toward the shadows ahead. “Then stay close. No matter what we find, we face it together.”

A twig snapped. Something moved—fast. The air grew tense, and you could almost feel the presence watching you both.

Allison raised her crossbow, whispering, “On my signal.”