Chapter 4 : Portland Return

Three days after the attack on Winterworth Manor, Lucas stood on the porch of his Portland bar and stared at what was left of his old life.

The Howling Moon had been his for five years. He''d bought it with money from his father''s life insurance, fixed it up himself—new floors, refinished bar, better lighting. It wasn''t fancy, but it was his. Regulars came for the local beers on tap and the fact that Lucas remembered their names.

Now it looked like a bomb had gone off inside.

The front door hung from one hinge, splintered. Glass from the windows glittered on the sidewalk like ice. Through the broken window, Lucas could see the interior—tables overturned, chairs smashed, the bar itself cracked down the middle. Beer bottles lay shattered everywhere, the smell of stale alcohol mixing with the damp Portland air.

"Who did this?" Lucas asked, his voice flat.

Alexander stood beside him, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. "Blackwoods. Or someone they hired. It''s a message."

"What message?"

"Stay away. This is what happens when you try to have a normal life." Alexander looked at him. "Or maybe: we know where you live. We know what matters to you."

Lucas walked inside, glass crunching under his boots. The damage was worse up close. Someone had taken a bat or something similar to everything breakable. The mirror behind the bar was a spiderweb of cracks. The cash register lay on the floor, pried open and empty.

His apartment above the bar was untouched. They''d focused on the business. On his public life.

"Anything missing?" Alexander asked from the doorway.

Lucas looked around. "Cash from the register. Some bottles from the top shelf. But that''s not the point, is it?"

"No," Alexander said quietly. "The point is the destruction. The message."

Lucas picked up a piece of a broken chair. Oak. He''d bought these chairs from an old man who made them by hand. They were solid, well-made. Now they were kindling.

He felt anger then, hot and sharp. Not just at the destruction, but at the violation. This was his place. His sanctuary. The one piece of his old life he thought he could keep.

"Can it be fixed?" he asked.

"Everything can be fixed," Alexander said. "The question is whether you should."

"What does that mean?"

"It means maybe this is a sign. Maybe you need to let the old life go. Fully embrace the new one."

Lucas shook his head. "I''m not giving this up. This is mine."

Before Alexander could respond, a voice came from the back room. "Hello? Is someone there?"

Lucas turned. A woman stood in the doorway to the back storage room. She was maybe late twenties, with dark hair that fell in waves around her shoulders, eyes that were an unusual shade of green. She wore jeans and a leather jacket, and she held a baseball bat like she knew how to use it.

"Who are you?" Lucas asked, his body tensing.

"Sophia," she said. She didn''t lower the bat. "I was... checking on the place. I''m a friend of Mike''s. The bartender who works nights?"

Mike. Right. Lucas had left Mike in charge when he went to his father''s cabin. "Where is Mike?"

"Hospital," Sophia said. "They beat him up pretty bad. Broken arm, couple of ribs. He''ll be okay, but he''s not happy."

Lucas felt the anger sharpen. Mike was a good guy. A college student trying to make rent. He didn''t deserve this.

"When did this happen?" Alexander asked, stepping forward.

"Two nights ago." Sophia''s eyes moved from Lucas to Alexander and back. She was assessing them, Lucas realized. Not afraid, just... calculating. "Around midnight. Three guys. Big. They didn''t say much. Just started breaking things."

"Did they take anything?" Lucas asked.

"Cash. Some alcohol. But like I told the police, it didn''t feel like a regular robbery."

"Why not?"

"Because they didn''t wear masks. And they looked right at the security camera." Sophia pointed to the corner where a small camera was mounted. "Like they wanted to be seen."

Lucas exchanged a look with Alexander. Message received.

"I''m Lucas," he said to Sophia. "I own this place."

"I know," Sophia said. Finally, she lowered the bat, leaning it against the wall. "Mike talks about you. Says you''re a good boss. For what that''s worth."

"Thanks for checking on the place," Lucas said. "And for... the bat."

Sophia smiled, and it changed her face. Made her look younger, less guarded. "I grew up in this neighborhood. We look out for each other."

Alexander''s phone buzzed. He looked at it, then at Lucas. "I need to take this. I''ll be outside."

He left, leaving Lucas alone with Sophia in the wreckage of the bar.

For a moment, neither spoke. Lucas looked around at the damage. Sophia watched him.

"You okay?" she asked finally.

"No," Lucas said honestly. "Not really."

"Insurance?"

"Probably. But that''s not..." He trailed off, gesturing at the destruction. "This was my father''s dream. He always wanted to own a bar. I bought this place after he died. To honor him, I guess."

Sophia nodded like she understood. "So it''s personal."

"Very."

She walked over to the bar, ran a hand along the cracked wood. "Good oak. You can fix this. It''ll take time and money, but it can be done."

"You sound like you know about wood."

"My father was a carpenter." She looked at him, those green eyes direct. "I can help, if you want. I know people. Good people. They''ll give you fair prices."

"Why would you do that?" Lucas asked. "You don''t know me."

Sophia shrugged. "Like I said. Neighborhood. We look out for each other. And..." She hesitated. "I need the work. Freelance carpentry doesn''t pay as well as you''d think."

Lucas considered. He needed help. And there was something about her—direct, no-nonsense, capable. He liked that.

"Okay," he said. "Let''s talk numbers."

They spent the next hour going through the damage. Sophia knew her stuff—she pointed out what could be salvaged, what needed replacing, estimated costs and time. Lucas found himself relaxing for the first time since he''d seen the destruction. There was something normal about talking about wood and nails and labor costs. Something human.

As they worked, Lucas became aware of her scent. Not perfume—something natural. Like rain on stone. And something else underneath, something he couldn''t name but that stirred something in him. The wolf inside him noticed too. It didn''t feel threatened. It felt... curious.

"You''re different," Sophia said suddenly, looking up from where she was examining a broken table leg.

"What do you mean?"

She studied him. "I don''t know. Just... different. Since you got back from wherever you were."

Lucas''s guard went up. "What makes you say that?"

"Your eyes," she said. "There''s more gold in them than I remember. And you move differently. More... aware."

Lucas didn''t know what to say. He''d thought he was hiding the changes better than that.

"Sorry," Sophia said, seeing his expression. "I''m observant. It''s a habit. My grandmother used to say I noticed things I shouldn''t."

"It''s fine," Lucas said. "You''re right. I''ve been through some... changes."

"Good changes, I hope."

"Some good. Some not so good."

They finished the assessment as the afternoon light began to fade. Alexander came back in, his expression unreadable.

"We need to go," he said to Lucas. Then to Sophia: "Thank you for your help."

"Of course," Sophia said. She handed Lucas a card with her number on it. "Call me when you''re ready to start repairs. I''ll put together a proper estimate."

"I will," Lucas said. "Thank you."

He started to follow Alexander out, then stopped. Turned back. "Sophia?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful. The guys who did this... they might come back."

She smiled, but it didn''t reach her eyes. "I can take care of myself."

Outside, the streetlights were coming on. Portland in November was all gray skies and damp chill.

"What was the phone call?" Lucas asked as they walked to where Alexander''s SUV was parked.

"Elizabeth," Alexander said. "She''s heard from two other packs. They''re... concerned about the violence. The Blackwoods are telling everyone we started it. That we''re bringing human attention to our world."

"Are we?"

"Does it matter?" Alexander unlocked the SUV. "Perception is reality in politics. And pack politics are the worst kind."

They drove in silence for a while. Lucas watched his city pass by—the familiar streets, the coffee shops, the people going about their normal lives. It all felt distant now. Like he was watching a movie about a place he used to live.

"We''ll put guards on your bar," Alexander said. "Discreet ones. And on your apartment. Until we know what the Blackwoods are planning next."

"Thank you," Lucas said.

Alexander glanced at him. "You liked her. The carpenter."

Lucas didn''t deny it. "She seems... capable."

"Be careful," Alexander said, echoing Lucas''s words to Sophia. "In our world, nothing is as it seems. And attractive women who show up at exactly the right time... that''s usually not coincidence."

"You think she''s working for the Blackwoods?"

"I think we don''t know. And until we do, be careful."

They drove back to Winterworth Manor in silence. Lucas thought about Sophia. About her green eyes. About the way she''d held that bat like she meant business. About the scent of rain on stone.

That night, back in his room at the manor, Lucas couldn''t sleep. He kept thinking about the bar. About Mike in the hospital. About Sophia.

He got up, pulled out his phone. Looked at the card she''d given him. Just a name and number. No last name. No business name.

He typed a text: "Thanks again for today. Lucas."

Almost immediately, a reply: "No problem. Let me know when you want to start. Sophia."

He stared at the screen. Then, before he could overthink it: "Coffee tomorrow? To go over the estimate?"

A pause. Then: "Sure. 10am? The place on 3rd and Oak?"

"See you then."

He put the phone down. Stupid, probably. Alexander was right—it was suspicious timing. But he wanted to see her again. Wanted to talk about normal things like wood and nails and coffee.

He lay back in bed. The moon was full tonight, a perfect silver circle in the sky. He could feel its power thrumming in his blood, a constant low-level buzz.

His phone buzzed again. Another text from Sophia: "By the way. Your friend. The one with the silver hair. He''s not human, is he?"

Lucas''s blood went cold. He stared at the screen. How did she know? What was she?

His fingers hovered over the keyboard. What should he say? Deny it? Admit it? Ask how she knew?

Before he could decide, another text came: "Don''t worry. Your secret''s safe with me. I have a few of my own. See you tomorrow."

Lucas put the phone down. Stared at the ceiling.

Well. That changed things.

The first major twist of his new life. And it came in the form of a green-eyed carpenter who knew too much.

He didn''t know if that was good or bad.

But he knew one thing: tomorrow''s coffee meeting just got a lot more interesting.