Chapter 3: A Vision of Shadows

Olivera's POV: There was a girl in my dream again. She looked like me—well, a more stunning, radiant version with a golden crest on her left arm. She was with a man, a figure so captivating that I could barely breathe, even in a dream. Tall, with the kind of physique that makes you stare for too long, they stood in a beautiful garden. I couldn’t see his face clearly—just glimpses from behind—but I was certain of one thing: the girl. She had my eyes, my hair. Was she my twin? A long-lost relative? I needed answers. Before I could get closer, before I could figure out who she was, a loud bang ripped through the serene vision, and everything shattered. I felt a tug at my eyelids, like someone pulling me from the depths of sleep. "Olivera…" Jeremy’s voice echoed distantly through my mind, pulling me further away from the dreamscape. His touch was soft at first, but it grew firmer. I blinked, slowly opening my eyes, and there he was, his blue eyes looking down at me with concern. "Were you dreaming again?" he asked, his hands gently guiding me to sit up. I realized I must have fallen asleep, mid-hum, my body slumped against the cold wall. "Yeah," I murmured, still feeling groggy. The dream clung to me like a mist I couldn’t shake off. "The same one?" His voice held that knowing tone. I nodded, a yawn escaping me. "The same one," I confirmed, though I still couldn’t understand why it haunted me. The beautiful garden, the girl who could be me, and the faceless man—what did it all mean? I had told my mother about it once. She dismissed it as some fantasy I'd conjured up from reading too many romance novels. I hadn’t even bothered telling her the books were Lisa's, not mine. Jeremy studied me for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. "It could be a message," he finally said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. His words snapped me out of my daze. "A message?" I scoffed, shaking my head. What message could possibly be meant for me? The Moon Goddess hadn’t deemed me worthy of a wolf, so why would she care enough to send me dreams? I wasn’t exactly high on her priority list. "Yeah, a message," Jeremy replied, his lips quirking into a smirk. "Maybe that man’s your mate." I couldn’t help but laugh. "Oh, please. That guy? With me? Highly doubtful." The idea of a gorgeous, almost god-like man being my mate was absurd. I was the pack’s reject, the wolfless one. If anyone deserved a mate like that, it would be Lisa. It was always Lisa. Jeremy sighed, clearly sensing my discomfort. He shifted the conversation, his eyes glancing toward the door. "Do you know where we are?" I shook my head, grateful for the change in topic. "No idea. Do you?" He was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the door. "Not yet, but I have a feeling we’re about to find out." His tone sent a chill down my spine. I followed his gaze, staring at the iron door, but I couldn’t hear or sense anything unusual. "Why are we staring at the door?" I asked. "Someone’s coming," he said, still focused on the entrance. My heart skipped a beat. Jeremy’s wolf senses always picked up on things long before I could. I gripped his hand instinctively, my pulse quickening. "What should we do?" I whispered, fear lacing my voice. "Whatever happens, don’t let go," he murmured, his grip tightening on my hand. "Jeremy…" I started, but he cut me off. "Olivera, promise me. Don’t. Let. Go." His voice was steady, but the seriousness in his eyes unnerved me. I nodded, unable to form any words. I could hear something now—a faint sound, like metal scraping against stone. My breathing hitched as the door began to creak open. Jeremy squeezed my hand again, a silent promise that he would protect me, no matter what. The door swung wide, and a man stepped inside. He was different from the brute who had tormented us the night before. This one seemed… kinder, though I didn’t trust that for a second. "Get up and follow me," the man ordered. His voice was calm, almost indifferent, as if he was used to people obeying without question. Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked out, leaving the door wide open. Jeremy helped me stand, my muscles screaming in protest after hours of lying on the cold floor. Every step felt like a struggle, but I gritted my teeth and followed the man, my hand still clutched tightly in Jeremy’s. The hallways were dimly lit and eerily quiet, except for the occasional grunt or sigh coming from behind closed doors. I shivered. We were definitely in some kind of prison or dungeon. The air was heavy with the stench of damp stone and despair. After what felt like an eternity, we stepped out into the open. The fresh air hit me like a blessing, and I inhaled deeply, savoring the clean, crisp scent. My eyes scanned our surroundings. We were standing on a hill, overlooking dense forests that stretched out as far as I could see. "Do you recognize this place?" I asked Jeremy, my voice barely a whisper. His expression darkened, and he looked around carefully. "Maybe. But I really hope I’m wrong." The ominous tone in his voice made my stomach twist in knots. "What do you mean?" He hesitated, his jaw clenching as he weighed his next words carefully. "The landscape looks familiar. It reminds me of a pack I’ve heard stories about… but I pray to the goddess that I’m mistaken." "What pack?" I pressed, fear rising in my chest like bile. Jeremy looked at me, his blue eyes filled with concern. "The Dark Shadows Pack." I froze. The name alone sent icy tendrils of terror curling around my heart. I had heard the stories— everyone had. The Dark Shadows Pack was notorious for its cruelty, its ruthlessness. Wolves who crossed them rarely lived to tell the tale. As the weight of Jeremy’s words sank in, the familiar sensation of panic began to claw at me. My breaths grew shallow, and my vision started to blur. The seizures, the ones I had fought so hard to control, threatened to overwhelm me again. "Olivera, stay with me!" Jeremy’s voice cut through the haze, and he grabbed both my hands, grounding me in the present. I forced myself to breathe, to focus on his face, on the warmth of his hands. "We’ll get out of this," he whispered, his voice steady, though I could see the worry etched in his features. I nodded, trying to believe him, trying to hold on to hope. But deep down, I knew we were in more danger than ever.