Chapter 3

The screech of the tires and the flash of headlights abruptly illuminated Anaya's collapsed form on the road. The driver’s side door of the sleek, black sedan burst open, and a woman stepped out, her rich pink saree, embroidered with golden threads, fluttered behind her like a banner in the breeze. It wrapped tightly around her waist and shimmered in the moonlight with each swift movement she made.

Her thick hair with dark curls was tamed into a long, heavy braid that trailed down her back reaching below her hips. Her sharp gaze swept the road towards the one lying on the road.

An unconscious girl was lying motionless on the road. Without thinking, the woman ran to her. She moved with quiet grace, her presence composed and radiant, yet wrapped in a cold, commanding aura that made people instinctively straighten their backs and choose their words with care. The golden bells of her jimmikis swayed gently with every step as she ran to the limp body lying in the middle of the road.

She dropped quickly, gracefully, beside Anaya. The moonlight, filtering through the dense canopy of the Yercaud forest, caught her features. Her dark eyes, framed by heavy kajal, held a brilliant, intense shine that bespoke intelligence and worry. Her expression was one of immediate concern and assessment, not fear. Kneeling beside her, she pressed her fingers gently to the girl's neck.

Pulse is weak, but alive. She looked closer, the bruises, the hollow cheeks, and the torn dress clinging to her skeletal frame. The girl looked like she had clawed her way out of death.

Danger still hung in the air like smoke. Whoever had done this… might still be close. As the woman leaned forward to lift her, something caught her eye.

A tattoo on the girl’s left shoulder starting to fade, smeared with blood and dirt, but its shape was unmistakable to anyone who knew the old symbols.

The woman’s breath caught.

“Lycan,” she whispered.

Though partially obscured by the tattered remains of her dress, the mark of a pack was unmistakable. Still vivid, dark, but fading she understood at once: the girl was a Lycan. She had left her pack not long ago.

Her eyes narrowed. Her movements became quicker, more deliberate. She scooped the girl up effortlessly, surprised by how weightless she felt. There was no hesitation. No fear.

She opened the backseat of her sleek black car and placed the girl gently inside, covering her with the shawl she had.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, she gripped the wheel and looked at the rearview mirror, her own cold expression meeting her gaze.

“Whatever happened to you, child…” she murmured, “You’re safe now.”

Though she was human, she wasn’t a stranger to this world. She had grown up among them. The girl, whoever she was, had gone through hell. That much was clear. And she might still be in danger. Her mind spun with options. But only one made sense. Taking the girl to her best friend, who is a doctor of their kind.

The engine hummed back to life as the car snaked through the misty Yercaud roads. Coffee plantations spread on either side, pine trees lining the curves. Stars blinked overhead through openings in the forest canopy.

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