The Wolves Among Us

Chapter2

Jojo’s P.O.V.

8 YEARS AGO

That same night, I woke up with a jolt, my heart hammering against my ribs. The screen of my computer cast a dull glow on my desk, illuminating the abandoned can of soda and crumpled candy wrappers littering the surface. The cursor blinked on an empty search bar, but I barely noticed. My breath came in quick, shallow gasps as I tried to shake off the lingering tendrils of my dream—the dream that had felt far too real.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to forget, but the memory of it clung to me like mist in the morning air. In my dream just now, it had been nighttime, the woods stretching endlessly around me, shrouded in an eerie, silver glow. The trees swayed softly, whispering secrets I couldn't understand. And then, he had been there as well.

Raven Miller.

He had looked like I remembered him, and yet… not. His dark hair was tousled, his sharp features cast in an otherworldly light that made his already striking appearance seem almost supernatural. His deep-set eyes—so dark they were nearly black—had held an intensity that made my pulse quicken. He was too perfect, too flawless, as if he had been carved from marble by some celestial being. And when he smiled, it wasn’t just a smile—it was a promise, a mystery, a secret only he knew.

I had felt drawn to him in a way I couldn’t explain, as if an invisible thread was pulling me closer to him. The air between us had shimmered with something electric, something powerful. I had wanted to speak, to ask him why he was there, why he had left Fairview without a word, why he had never even noticed me. But then, he had spoken first. His voice was soft, almost regretful.

"I’m sorry, Jojo."

The words had sent a shiver down my spine. He had never said my name before. Not in real life. Not ever.

"For leaving?" I had asked, barely above a whisper. He had nodded, his gaze never leaving mine.

"I had to. But I’ll come back for you. One day."

And then, before I could even process his words, he had closed the distance between us, his hands framing my face as he pressed his lips to mine. It had been soft, fleeting, but it had ignited something in my chest—a fire, a longing, a need for something I didn’t understand at the age of 14. And just as quickly as he had come, he was gone, disappearing into the shadows of the trees, his presence fading like a wisp of smoke.

My eyes had snapped open the next second. My hands were trembling as I found my face resting on the keyboard of my computer. It was a dream. Just a dream.

Except…

Something felt off about it. Something felt wrong.

I had never spoken to Raven Miller in real life. He didn’t even know me. Not really. He had been nothing more than a passing face in the halls of Fairview High, a fleeting crush I had harbored in silence. And yet, the way he had said my name in the dream, the way his lips had felt against mine—my first kiss, even though it had happened in a dream...it had been too vivid, too real.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, my thoughts racing faster than I could catch them. Why had it felt like more than a dream? Like something I was supposed to remember, like something I was somehow meant to understand? I didn’t know why, but suddenly, I found myself typing his name into the search bar.

Raven Miller.

My pulse pounded in my ears as I hit enter, a strange sense of anticipation curling in my stomach. I didn’t know what I was looking for. The soft glow of my computer screen illuminated my face in the dimly lit room. The name “Raven Miller” stared back at me from the search bar, the blinking cursor mocking me as if it already knew the outcome. With a determined press of the Enter key, I watched the results load, scrolling through the pages with mounting frustration.

Nothing.

No social media accounts, no news articles, no yearbook photos. Not even some random distant cousin who shared the name. It was as if Raven Miller didn’t even exist.

I huffed and fell back against my chair.

“Of course,” I muttered, dragging a hand down my face.

“Because that would’ve been too easy.”

I stared at the ceiling for a long moment before pushing myself back up, a smirk curling at my lips.

“Alright, Mr. Mystery, let’s try something else.”

My fingers flew across the keyboard as I typed in descriptions instead.

Dark eyes.

Dark hair.

Insanely good-looking siblings.

I laughed at myself, but before I could delete the ridiculous search, I hit Enter.

The results popped up instantly. At first, they seemed just as useless as before—celebrity gossip, fashion trends, some random list of ‘Top Ten Most Attractive Families’—but then, something caught my eye.

Supernatural Sightings: The Unbelievably Beautiful Strangers Among Us.

I frowned and clicked on the link. A grainy, low-quality image loaded at the top of the page. It wasn’t Raven or any of his siblings, but something about the sharpness of the facial features, the eerily striking dark eyes, and the almost unnatural symmetry of the face sent a chill down my spine.

I scrolled further. The article mentioned multiple examples of strangers who seemed too perfect, too enigmatic—people who just looked too perfect to be real, people who vanished without a trace, who seemed to have an aura about them that made it impossible to look away.

My heart pounded. That sounded… familiar.

I clicked back to the search bar and refined my keywords.

Dark eyes.

Dark hair.

Inhuman beauty.

Disappearances.

Strange occurrences.

Big family.

This time, the results were even stranger. Stories of people encountering individuals who were too captivating, too graceful, too otherworldly. Reports of impossible feats—inhuman speed, unnatural strength, senses sharper than any normal person should have.

I gulped. The air in my room suddenly felt thinner.

And then—

Werewolves.

I sat up so fast my computer nearly fell off my desk.

“No freaking way,” I breathed, staring at the screen. But there it was, bold and undeniable.

The Miller family's mother's surname appeared in an old forum post, buried under layers of speculation about werewolf bloodlines. It was some conspiracy theorist’s ramblings, sure—but they mentioned Raven’s mother’s name nonetheless. But it was without a doubt her last name. Their family. Nobody would have ever known because of course, the Miller kids all carried their father’s last name. But I knew. I had lived here my whole life, remembering the Miller siblings’ mom and her family like it was yesterday.

I felt my stomach twist into a thousand knots. Because the worst part wasn’t that I had found something. It was that it somehow made sense to me.

The way Raven moved. The way he looked, eyes flickering with something too deep, too knowing. The way his siblings carried themselves, the quiet intensity they all shared, and the deep connection all siblings seemed to share with one another.

The strength.

The speed.

The inexplicable magnetism that drew people toward them.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard. Every logical part of my brain screamed at me to stop my search and to just forget about it because it was all just too crazy to even begin with. But another part—one I wasn’t sure I was ready to acknowledge just yet—whispered that I had just stumbled onto something real.

Something terrifying.

Something I couldn’t simply ignore.

I swallowed hard, staring at the word ‘werewolf’ on my screen, feeling my world tilt ever so slightly beneath me.

I had a choice now.

Pretend I never saw this.

Or keep digging.