"You don't say," James said dryly.
Which was impressive, considering he currently looked like he had just lost a fight with a truck.Multiple times.
He rolled his shoulder with a quiet hiss, wincing as something in his back definitely protested.His ribs felt like they had been rearranged for artistic purposes, his arms were heavy, and there was still dirt in places dirt had no business being.
Kaela had not been gentle.
At all.
And it wasn't like he enjoyed being used as a stress ball.
He just… kept ending up in situations where people way above his paygrade decided today was the day he learned humility.
Repeatedly.
Still—
That wasn't what was bothering him.
There was a tightness in his chest.
An irritation.
Not from losing.
No.
Something else.
Something he couldn't quite name.
He inhaled slowly.
Deep.
Controlled.
Held it.
Then exhaled.
Letting that feeling settle instead of explode.
Yeah.
Losing his temper right now?
That would get him killed.
So—no thanks.
…
It was then—
That he realized.
The voice.
That wasn't Kaela.
James' body reacted instantly.
His spine straightened.
Muscles tensed.
He turned—
Fast.
Too fast for a human.
Not fast enough for what stood behind him.
The clearing had darkened. Night had settled in fully now, the sky a deep navy stretched above the trees. Crickets chirped steadily in the background, a constant rhythmic hum that filled the silence between movements.
Leaves rustled softly as a breeze passed through the forest, carrying with it the scent of earth, bark, and something faintly metallic.
And there—
A man stood.
Close.
Too close.
James hadn't heard him approach.
Hadn't smelled him.
Hadn't sensed him.
That alone made something cold settle in his gut.
The man was around 5'9, maybe 5'10.
Lean.
Compact.
Built like someone who valued speed over brute force.
His frame wasn't bulky, but there was a density to him—coiled, efficient strength rather than raw mass.
His hair was a deep, unruly brown, strands falling lazily over his forehead like he had just come back from sprinting through the forest at full speed and didn't care enough to fix it.
His eyes—
Amber gold.
Sharp.
Cold.
Not empty.
Not wild.
Calculated.
If you looked long enough, you'd realize something unsettling—
He wasn't just a predator.
He was the kind that planned.
A faint claw mark scar traced across his jawline, pale against his skin. Old. Healed. Likely earned.
Probably from Kaela.
That tracked.
"Who the fuck are you?" James asked immediately.
No hesitation.
No politeness.
He was already on edge.
And now?
Yeah, that edge just got sharper.
Because there was one very important problem here—
How did he get this close?
James' senses weren't refined.
Not even close.
But they were there.
Heightened.
Raw.
Sensitive.
He should've picked up something.
Footsteps.
Breathing.
Scent.
Anything.
But no.
Nothing.
That was… bad.
"Hm," the man hummed lightly, barely acknowledging the tension. "So you're the new pup."
Like James wasn't currently ready to throw hands out of pure survival instinct.
The guy's gaze flicked over him briefly.
Assessing.
Not impressed.
Just… noting things.
He had clearly been watching.
Probably for a while.
James' eyes flared gold.
Faint strands of fur began creeping along his arms, barely visible under the dim moonlight.
His nails extended slightly, darkening at the tips as they curved just a little too sharp to be called human anymore.
Yeah.
He was ready.
'Feisty,' the man thought, a near-invisible shift in his gaze.
"No need to be on guard," he said calmly.
Which, ironically—
Made James more on guard.
"My name is Caius Thornridge," he continued. "Member of the Ironmaw cabin."
Ironmaw.
James paused.
That clicked.
Kaela.
Same name.
Same insane energy.
His tension eased—
Just a bit.
Not fully.
Not even close.
But enough that the fur receded slightly, his nails shortening back toward normal.
So—
This guy was part of that cabin.
Which meant—
Yeah.
James was probably stuck with people like him for the foreseeable future.
Fantastic.
"I'm James Smith," he said, stepping forward slightly and raising his fist.
Offering a fist bump.
You know.
Normal human interaction.
Friendly.
Non-threatening.
Caius looked at the fist.
Just—
Looked at it.
His eyes lingered for a second longer than necessary, like he was analyzing a foreign object.
Then he didn't move.
Didn't respond.
Didn't acknowledge it.
Just… stared.
…
James slowly lowered his hand.
"…Okay," he muttered. "Guess you're not into that."
Silence.
A cricket chirped louder than necessary, like it was judging him.
James cleared his throat.
Trying again.
"So… uh—are you a blacksmith?"
…
Caius blinked.
Once.
Slow.
Confused.
"…No."
His brow furrowed slightly.
James immediately regretted opening his mouth.
"Then why is your last name Smith?" Caius asked, genuinely puzzled.
James stared at him.
"…Because that was my dad's last name."
Duh.
It took a second—
Then something clicked behind Caius' eyes.
A small shift.
Understanding.
"Ah."
A pause.
"I forgot," he said, almost absentmindedly, pulling out a small notebook from his pocket. "You are newly turned."
He began writing.
Just like that.
Pen scratching softly against paper, the sound oddly loud against the quiet hum of the forest.
James blinked.
"…What are you writing?"
Caius didn't answer immediately.
Just finished his note.
Then—
"In here," he said calmly, flipping the page shut, "last names are not inherited."
James frowned slightly.
"They are given," Caius continued. "After a great feat. Or something you will become known for."
Oh.
That… actually made sense.
James thought back.
Ironmaw.
Darkfang.
Hollowclaw.
Yeah.
Those didn't sound like birth certificates.
Those sounded like reputations.
"…Wait," James said suddenly. "Doesn't Luna share the same last name as the pack leader?"
"Pack leader," Caius corrected instantly.
There was a subtle edge there.
Not aggressive.
But firm.
They weren't clans.
They weren't gangs.
They weren't vampires.
This was a pack.
A family.
James raised his hands slightly.
"Right—pack leader."
Caius relaxed—barely.
"Oh," Caius said after a moment. "You must be referring to the name she uses within your school."
James blinked.
"…Yeah."
"So you guys know about that?"
Caius paused.
Looked at him.
Measured him.
Then—
"That," he said flatly, "is not information you are trustworthy enough to know."
…
James stared at him.
A beat passed.
Another cricket chirped.
Louder this time.
"…Damn," James muttered under his breath. "You could've just said you don't like me."
Caius didn't react.
Didn't deny it.
Didn't confirm it.
Just stood there.
Calm.
Watching.
Taking note.
A/N I should have the ai generation i have for Caius so far... I given up on having the ai getting his fit correct.
Below should have the fit.
He has like a little pocket to keep his notebook.
He is the lieutent of the cabin or the scount captain.
He is the oldest in the cabin, he is 96, look like he is 19. He is 5'10 but because he is in a relaxed pose most of the time, he look 5'9.
His Werewolf form is like 8'4 feet tall.
He has full control over his beast form.
He can enter it at will, he can even access his wolf power in his base form.{How Luna beat James the first time they fought}
He is proficient with his shadows, he look up to Kaela, and is the most methodical among the group.
Next chapter probably out friday since this one is pretty short.