The Wolves Among Us

Chapter4

Raven’s P.O.V.

The old black truck rumbled down the cracked highway, the engine growling low and steady beneath the hum of the tires against the asphalt. The air smelled of grass, thick with the scent of dry earth, and the sky remained a bright blue, refusing to let loose of a hot summer day just yet.

My hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, my dark eyes fixed on the road ahead. Fairview. The green and white sign loomed in the distance, weathered by time and neglect, yet still standing like an omen of all that I had once left behind. And now, here I was, coming back.

I stole a glance at Lucy. She sat in her car seat, her tiny hands wrapped around her favorite stuffed rabbit, her long dark lashes fluttering as she hummed some song under her breath. Her world was simple, unburdened by the weight of the past.

Unlike me.

I exhaled sharply, my fingers flexing on the wheel. The last time I had seen this town, I had been running—running from grief, from pain, from the ghosts that had haunted every damn street corner. My parents had been gone, and with them, any real reason to stay. I had waited until I was old enough, until there was no real reason left to stop me, and then I had left without so much as a backward glance.

But life had a funny way of dragging you back to the places you swore you’d never return to.

I had never planned on coming back. Not until Lucy. Not until she became my whole world, my only reason for breathing. And now, she deserved better than the life I had been scraping together. She deserved roots.

A home.

Stability.

And somehow, Fairview was the only place I could give her that.

A muscle in my jaw twitched. I hadn’t told them. I Hadn’t told a single damn person from my past that I had a daughter. Not my sisters, not my brothers, not my old friends—hell, not even my grandmother. They were going to lose their minds when they saw me step foot back in town, Lucy in tow.

“Daddy?”

Her small voice pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced at her again, softening instantly.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Where we going?”

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.

“Someplace... old,” I admitted.

“Someplace I used to know.”

She blinked at me with her big, brown eyes—the same eyes I saw in the mirror every morning.

“Is it nice?”

I hesitated, the past clawing at my ribs. I had never thought of Fairview as nice. It had been suffocating, a town too small to hold all of my pain. But for Lucy, I wanted something different. I wanted to believe it could be something else.

“I don’t know, baby,” I said finally, voice quiet.

“I guess we’ll find out. But I would like to find out with you.”

The truck rolled past the city limits, past the sign that had once felt like a prison gate. And just like that, we were home. Each mile brought me closer to a place I had once called home—a place filled with echoes of laughter, the scent of home-cooked meals, and the warmth of family. But it was also the place where everything had changed and fell apart, where the world had shattered with the arrival of two uniformed officers at our doorstep.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and stole a glance in the rearview mirror. Lucy, the tiny whirlwind of curiosity, her big brown eyes darting around excitedly as she took in the small town that was now our new home. Her curly dark hair framed her round face, and her little fingers tapped on the edge of her car seat as she let out a long sigh.

“So this is the city we’re going to live in now?” she asked, her voice carrying the innocent wonder only a five-year-old could possess. My grip on the wheel relaxed slightly as I nodded.

“Yeah, Lucy. This is our home now.”

She pursed her lips, considering something deeply before speaking again.

“Is it big?”

I chuckled.

“It’s decent.”

“Bigger than me?” she asked, her tone serious. I smiled.

“Much bigger than you.”

She giggled.

“I thought so.” Then, after a moment of silence, she whispered,

“Do you think my new family will like me?”

My chest tightened at the vulnerability in her voice. I glanced at her again, her wide eyes staring out the window, as if searching for an answer in the passing buildings. I reached out with one hand, resting it gently on her tiny fingers.

“Luce,” I said softly,

“they’re not just going to like you. They’re going to adore you.”

She looked at me then, a small smile tugging at her lips, and nodded as if deciding to believe me.

The car rounded a final bend, and there it was—the house. A two-story structure with the same blue shutters and the wraparound porch where me and my family had spent so many summer afternoons. The sight of it sent a rush of memories through me, memories of hide-and-seek games, of birthday celebrations, of the nights spent huddled together during thunderstorms. And yet, the ghost of that fateful day lingered too, woven into the very fabric of the home that had once held us all together.

But despite the pain, there was warmth. There was love. The house still stood, waiting, welcoming.

God… I hope someone still lives there…

Lucy clapped her hands, breaking me from my thoughts.

“That’s our house?!”

I nodded, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding in the first place.

“Yeah,” I murmured.

“That’s our family’s house.”

And as I pulled into the driveway, I allowed myself, just for a moment, to believe that maybe, just maybe, this was a new beginning for us both.

The tires crunched against the gravel as I eased the car to a stop in front of the house I had once called home. The sight before me felt both foreign and painfully familiar, as though time had carried on without me, reshaping the world I had left behind. The back yard, where I had spent countless summer evenings, was occupied now, but not by ghosts of his past—by people, living and breathing, their laughter carried on the breeze.

My fingers tightened around the steering wheel as my gaze settled on the gathering. I knew some of them. The elderly woman with silver-purple hair pulled into a loose bun—my grandmother. A pang of guilt struck deep in my chest. She looked so much older than I remembered, the years having etched their mark on her in my absence. Had she always been this small? This frail? I should have written more, should have called. But it was too late for should-haves.

My eyes drifted, catching sight of two figures standing close together, speaking animatedly. My twin sisters. The last time I had seen them, they were still children—stubborn, opinionated, always in the middle of a fight, whether it was with each other or anyone else who dared to challenge their views. Now, they stood tall, their youthful defiance hardened into something more composed. Grown women. A lifetime had passed, and I hadn’t been there to see it.

And then, the strangers. Two women sat beside my grandmother, deep in conversation. One was a brunette, her hair cascading over her shoulders in loose waves, her sharp eyes filled with intelligence and something else—something unreadable. The other, a redhead, carried herself with a quiet confidence, her fingers tracing patterns against the rim of a coffee cup. Beautiful, both of them. But strangers.

Who were they?

What role had they taken in my absence?

I barely had time to process the thought before a voice shattered my trance.

"Daddy!" Lucy's call yanked me back to the present. I turned my head toward her, my pulse quickening. This was it. No more hiding behind car doors and distance.

I drew in a slow breath, exhaled, and reached for the handle. As the door swung open, the cool air rushed in, carrying the scent of the earth, of home, of a past I had tried so hard to outrun.

Time to face it all, I guess.