The Lost One

The bus that took Mike from Beacontown back to Perkins smelled just as bad as the one that had brought him. Mike hated buses: the acrid stench of other people's sweat pressing against his nose, the smell of takeout food and gasoline that seemed to hang like a cloud over everyone's heads, the _bump bump_ of the bus on speed bumps that left him sick to his stomach when he got down.

He'd had no choice but to take the bus. Beth had vehemently refused when he wanted to morph into his wolf form and run all the way to Perkins.

Mike was still assessing his relationship with Beth. Theirs was a strained one at best, and he could not look at her without remembering the way she'd smiled down at him when he was strapped to the experiment table, the headlight above her turning her deep red hair golden. The feeling of immense hatred that had coursed through his veins alongside the werewolf Serum, that had changed his life forever.

She'd turned him to the monster he was, and there was no moving away