Novels by Superb Writes

(Elena's POV)Pale gray morning light filters through the clinic windows, providing the perfect illumination for the morning. I'm back at the Crescent Bay Veterinary Clinic, my fingers wrapped around a coffee cup, trying to shake the exhaustion that's sunk deep into my bones.Last night doesn't really seem to have happened. A giant bleeding dog in an alley, its silver eyes set on me as if he could read my mind, and now he's stretched out on a heap of blankets in my living room. I keep reliving how he looked at me. Like he knew something. Even though it's strange to feel, I feel like he was a person.But I can't dwell on that part. It's obviously not true. But its whole calmness, even when I tended to the wounds, was unreal. I need an explanation for it. Something normal.The clinic hums with the usual sounds of morning: machines whirring to life, paws shuffling in cages, and the soft quiet sounds made by the animals. I lean against the counter, sipping the bitter coffee, as I remind m

(Kael's POV)The Blackwood Forest breathes with a pulse older than Crescent Bay's steel and glass. Its gnarled trees claw at the moonlight, casting long shadows across the forest floor.I'm lost, trapped in this cursed canine shell, my senses sharpened beyond reason, my whole body aching with every step. The scent of damp earth and pine floods my nose, laced with the musk of my pack. They are all restless tonight. I can feel it in the way their howls rise sharp and mournful. A chorus of both frustration and fear.I am their Alpha.I was.Now I'm nothing more than a shadow of what I used to be, bound to this black dog form by a curse I never saw coming. Guilt settles over me like a second skin, heavier than the wounds she stitched tonight. I abandoned them, and the weight of it crushes me from the inside.I crouch in the darkness, hidden beneath a thick tangle of branches. My silver eyes reflect the moonlight. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig echoes like a gunshot. I hear t

My apartment door squeaks as I push it open, my whole mind still trying to figure out what could have happened before I met this massive black dog that's now right beside me. His warmth presses into my side as he leans closer to me, even slightly brushing against me.Every step we took through the foggy streets of Crescent Bay made me extremely tired. My arms burn from supporting his bulk. He's heavy and wounded, but he limps on his own, persistent and silent.Now we're inside, out of the cold, but the strangeness of everything settles hard in my chest.The air inside smells faintly of coffee, dust, and antiseptic. The whole place is cluttered with books piled on every surface, yesterday's sandwich still abandoned on the counter, but it's my space. I live here. I survive here. I fix myself here. The thought steadies me as I help Shadow, the name I gave him in my heart, lower himself onto a blanket I spread out over an old tarpaulin in one corner of the living room.He makes a deep rum

My fingers dig into my pocket to feel the small can of pepper spray there.I'm not feeling afraid, not exactly, even though everything feels off. But the hairs on my neck are standing up.It's instinct. My body knows something isn't right, even without my conscious mind trying to make sense of it. Maybe it's the exhaustion, the long hours of work catching up to me.I try to shake it off. Just get home, Elena.Then I hear something.A sound cuts through the fog.Low, but desperate. Whatever it is, it's deeply pained.It comes again, but lower.It doesn't sound human.I freeze, my heart thudding immediately, feeling like it's about to burst from my chest. My ears strain for the sound again, listening very closely and carefully. My mind already sorts through memory and instinct.It's an animal. A pained animal.I know that immediately. The cry is too raw, too broken. Years working as a vet have trained me to recognize animal sounds.It comes again. Another whimper, but it sounds closer n

(Elena's POV)The Crescent Bay Veterinary Clinic is a cocoon of sterile calm at this hour. The fluorescent lights hum softly, a sound that has become my lifeline after a very long day at work.Hunched over a chart at the front desk, pen in hand, I scribble notes about a cat named Muffin who's finally eating again after a week of fighting an infection.My fingers tremble slightly from exhaustion. Years of wielding scalpels and syringes have left my hands calloused, but tonight, the ache goes deeper. Still, I feel that quiet glow of satisfaction. Muffin's going to make it. That's what keeps me here, day after day, night after night, stitching together small miracles in a world that feels more broken than whole.At twenty-nine, sleep rarely comes easily. Exhaustion has settled into my bones, but something else has settled there too. I've learned how to find meaning in the smallest victories, even if it means trading my sanity for them.My scrubs are wrinkled. A smudge of cat fur clings t