The breaking point

The world spun around me. My breath came in short, broken gasps as I clutched the earth beneath me. The pain had been sharp,bone-deep, tearing my tissues and then it was gone. The fur that had sprouted along my arms had vanished, the ache in my jaw where fangs had pressed forward now only a dull throb. Whatever had started inside me had faded like smoke.

I stared at my shaking hands, bare and human again. “No,” I whispered. “Come back.”

But there was only silence.

Leaves rustled behind me. I froze, still on my knees, heart pounding as a familiar scent reached me. pine, rain, and something darker that made my chest ache. Liam.

He stepped into the clearing, his eyes immediately scanning the area like he expected to find danger. When his gaze fell on me, some of that hard vigilance softened. “Marilyn?”

I swallowed, unable to speak. My throat felt raw, my skin too tight.

He crossed the distance between us in a few strides, kneeling in front of me. “You’re shaking.” His voice was quieter now, rougher around the edges. “What happened?”

“I…” The truth caught in my throat. I almost changed. “Nothing. I just needed air.”

He frowned, clearly unconvinced. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

“I’m fine.” The lie tasted bitter.

His eyes swept over me again, searching. For a heartbeat, I thought he’d seen something like some trace of what had almost happened, but he only exhaled slowly and sat back on his heels. The forest light played along the scar on his jaw, the one he’d gotten from a rogue attack years ago. It gave him a look of permanent resilience, the kind that made everyone else stand straighter in his presence.

He glanced at me again, brow furrowed. “Tell me something, Marilyn.”

“What?”

“Why haven’t you shifted yet?”

The words landed like a blade. My breath hitched, eyes stinging. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t sound cruel, only tired and cautious but that made it worse. “You’re over eighteen. Most wolves shift long before that. Is it… fear? Something holding you back?”

My pulse roared in my ears. “You sound just like them,” I spat.

His expression hardened. “Like who?”

“The elders. The pack. Everyone who looks at me like I’m some kind of mistake.” I pushed to my feet, brushing dirt from my palms. “You don’t know what it’s like to grow up away from this world, to feel it calling you and not be able to answer.”

“I’m not judging you,” he said, standing too. “I’m trying to understand.”

“Don’t bother.” I turned away, blinking hard. “You wouldn’t.”

He was silent for a moment. Then, quietly: “You’re wrong.”

I stopped.

When I faced him, his gaze was steady but stormy, as if he’d been holding something back and finally decided to let it out. “I know exactly what it feels like to fight something you can’t control.” He took a step closer, the air between us heavy with things unsaid. “Because every time I see you, every time I hear you, I have to fight it.”

“Fight what?” I whispered.

His answer came like thunder in my chest. “You’re my mate, Marilyn.”

The forest seemed to go silent. Even the wind stopped.

I stared at him, the words crashing through my mind, impossible to process. “No. That can’t be “

“It is.” His jaw tightened. “I didn’t want to tell you like this, but you keep thinking I don’t care. You think I’m one of them.”

My pulse raced. “And you think saying this fixes it?”

“No. But it’s the truth.”

I shook my head, stepping back. My emotions tangled with shock, disbelief, anger, something dangerously close to hope. “If I’m your mate, then you should believe in me.”

“I do.”

“Then watch.”

I closed my eyes, pulling air into my lungs, searching for the voice I’d heard earlier, the whisper that had felt like mine. Come on, I begged silently. Please, don’t leave me now.

Heat sparked beneath my skin, then vanished. Nothing. No whisper. No shift. Just emptiness.

When I opened my eyes again, Liam’s expression told me everything.

***********

For a long, painful heartbeat, neither of us spoke. The air between us felt too heavy to breathe. My hands trembled at my sides, my skin still tingling from the ghost of what I’d tried to summon.

Liam’s face had gone still ,too still. The muscle in his jaw ticked, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady. “You didn’t feel anything, did you?”

I wanted to lie. I wanted to scream that I had and that the power had been there, right under my skin, but the truth hung between us like smoke. “It’s not always instant,” I said instead, my voice hoarse. “Sometimes it takes time.”

“Marilyn.” His tone stopped me cold. It wasn’t harsh, just final. “You’ve had eighteen years. A wolf doesn’t need such a long time, it needs connection.”

“Connection?” I snapped, anger rising to fill the hollow shame inside me. “To what? I’ve spent my whole life cut off from this world. You think that’s my fault?”

He exhaled through his nose, the sound sharp. “No. But it’s who you are now.”

Something inside me cracked. “You mean it’s what you think I am? a failure?”

His eyes flashed silver for a heartbeat, his wolf surfacing with frustration. “That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you meant,” I said, my voice shaking. “You stand there, acting like you’re some noble Alpha with all the answers, but you’re just like them. You pity me. You look at me and see someone broken.”

He took a step forward. “I don’t pity you.”

“Then what?” I demanded. “You tell me I’m your mate, and then what? decide I’m not good enough because I don’t have a wolf to match your perfection?”

Liam’s eyes darkened, emotion flickering behind the control he wore like armor. “You think I don’t want you?” His voice dropped, rough with something I couldn’t name. “I’ve been fighting this bond since the moment I realized what you are to me. You consume every thought, every instinct I have, but you don’t belong to this world anymore, Marilyn.”

My throat tightened. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking torn between fury and restraint. “You’re too modern, too bound to the life you built in the city. You wouldn’t survive here, not really. This place , it demands the part of you you’ve buried.”

“I can learn.”

He shook his head. “You shouldn’t have to learn what should be in your blood.”

The words hit harder than any insult. I took a step back, blinking against the sting behind my eyes. “So that’s it? You give up on me?”

His voice softened, and somehow that made it worse. “I’m not giving up. I’m setting you free. You deserve a life that doesn’t tear you apart.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “You don’t get to decide that.”

He hesitated, then said quietly, “I wish it were different.”

“Don’t,” I snapped. “Don’t say that like I’m some mistake you regret.”

“I don’t regret you,” he said, his voice cracking just enough that I almost believed him. “But I can’t claim you, not like this.”

I stared at him, the world spinning again. “You mean you won’t.”

He looked away, jaw tight. “Maybe.”

For a moment, I saw something flicker in his expression like pain, longing, maybe both. But then it was gone, replaced by the cold composure of an Alpha. He turned from me, the air shifting as if the forest itself drew back with him.

“Go back to the packhouse,” he said. “You don’t belong out here alone.”

“Don’t tell me where I belong,” I whispered, but he was already walking away.

His back was straight, his stride unyielding, and I hated him for it. I hated that my heart still twisted watching him leave.

When the last trace of his scent faded, I sank to the ground. My hands dug into the dirt until my nails hurt. The forest was quiet again, but not empty. It hummed, alive with things I couldn’t touch.

“Why?” I whispered to no one. “Why can’t I change?”

The question hung unanswered in the air. Then, faintly, like a breath carried on the wind, I heard it again.

Not yet.

I froze.

The voice wasn’t my own, it was deeper, softer, ancient. The same whisper I’d felt before, somewhere inside of me.

My breath caught. “Who are you?”

No answer came, only a quiet warmth blooming in my chest, like a heartbeat that wasn’t entirely mine.

Tears blurred my vision, and I pressed a trembling hand over my heart. “Then when?” I whispered. “When will you come?”

The whisper returned, clearer this time. When you stop running from what you are.

A shiver ran through me, not from fear but from understanding. The wolf was there, buried, waiting, patient.

I stayed like that for a long time, breathing in the damp scent of the forest, letting the pain ebb into something sharper, stronger. When I finally rose, the night air clung to my skin, cool and electric.

He thought I didn’t belong here. He thought I was too modern, too soft, too human.

But I wasn’t done.

I turned back toward the lights of the packhouse in the distance, my steps steady despite the ache in my chest.

Maybe he was right. I didn’t belong here, I belong in the city where I am loved, and seen as a person.