Chapter Ten

I wake up eighteen.

For a few seconds, nothing feels different.

My room is still dark.

My blanket is twisted around one leg.

There’s a crack in the ceiling above my bed that Dad has promised to fix for almost a year.

I lie perfectly still and wait.

For what, I don’t know.

A voice.

A surge of power.

Some mystical announcement from the universe that I’m officially old enough for my body to tear itself apart and become a wolf.

Nothing happens.

Then my phone vibrates beside me.

Mom.

Happy birthday, baby. Come downstairs.

I smile.

There are messages from Callum.

Dad.

Tessa.

June.

Half a dozen people from the pack.

I scroll farther.

No Drevin.

The smile fades before I can stop it.

It’s early.

That means nothing.

He promised.

I set the phone down.

Today is too important to spend waiting on someone else.

I repeat that to myself while I get dressed.

And again while I brush my teeth.

And once more when I check my phone before going downstairs.

Still nothing.

---

Mom cries over pancakes.

Not dramatically.

Just one tear she swipes away before pretending it never happened.

Dad gives me a small silver bracelet he apparently bought three months ago and has been hiding badly in the garage.

Callum gives me running shoes.

I stare at the box.

“For my wolf?”

“For after.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“They were expensive.”

I hug him anyway.

For a while, I forget to be nervous.

Then the first cramp hits.

Deep.

Low.

Not painful exactly.

More like something inside my bones shifts its weight.

I stop with my fork halfway to my mouth.

Mom notices immediately.

“That it?”

“I don’t know.”

Another pressure rolls through me.

My skin prickles.

Dad stands.

Callum’s grin disappears.

Suddenly everyone is watching me.

And just like that, breakfast is over.

---

The clearing looks different today.

I’ve stood here hundreds of times.

Played here.

Read here.

Fallen asleep in the grass once and gotten bitten by approximately a thousand mosquitoes.

Today the trees feel closer.

The air feels heavier.

My family stays near the edge of the clearing, giving me space without really giving me space.

I appreciate that.

Mostly.

My phone is in Mom’s hand.

I checked it before giving it to her.

Still no message.

I tell myself Drevin is running late.

Then I scan the tree line again.

No dark hair.

No stupid grin.

No familiar truck through the trees.

Nothing.

He promised.

The hurt comes sharp enough to almost distract me from the fear.

Almost.

My eyes move across the clearing again.

Something else registers.

Logan isn’t here either.

That surprises me.

Not in the same way.

Logan doesn’t owe me anything.

But he said he’d come.

For some reason, I remember him standing on the back porch telling me the pain wouldn’t last long.

Maybe pack business came up.

Future Alpha things.

Easy explanation.

Drevin doesn’t get one that easily.

A cramp twists through my abdomen.

Harder this time.

I suck in a breath.

Mom takes one step forward.

“I’m okay.”

I’m not sure who I’m reassuring.

Her.

Me.

Maybe both.

Then my knees buckle.

Pain explodes through my spine.

There is no warning after that.

No gradual beginning.

One second I am standing.

The next, my body is no longer mine.

I hit the ground on my hands.

My palms dig into damp soil.

Something pulls inside my shoulders.

I scream.

Or try to.

The sound breaks apart in my throat.

My back arches.

Bones move.

Not break.

Move.

That might be worse.

Pressure builds beneath my skin as though my skeleton is trying to remember a shape my human body forgot.

My fingers seize.

They shorten.

My nails bite into dirt, thickening, darkening.

My wrists twist.

I gasp.

Too much.

Too fast.

I hear Mom say my name.

Callum says something sharper.

Dad tells everyone to stay back.

Their voices stretch strangely.

Too loud.

Too clear.

My heartbeat is everywhere.

In my chest.

My ears.

My teeth.

My ribs compress.

My lungs empty.

For one terrifying second, I can’t breathe at all.

Then my chest expands again.

Different.

Bigger.

Air rushes into me.

And with it comes the world.

Wet earth.

Pine sap.

Grass.

My mother’s perfume.

Coffee on Dad’s breath.

Metal from Callum’s belt buckle.

Every scent crashes together until I don’t know how I ever believed I could smell before.

My vision blurs.

The ground rushes closer.

My jaw aches.

Teeth press painfully against my gums.

My skin burns.

Then fur breaks through.

A strange crawling sensation spreads over my arms—

No.

Not arms.

Legs.

Four of them.

The realization almost makes me panic harder.

I try to move.

My body lurches sideways.

The world tilts.

A startled sound leaves me, low and rough.

Not human.

I freeze.

Silence drops over the clearing.

My breathing comes fast.

The sound of it fills my ears.

I look down.

Paws.

Huge paws.

Dark fur with silver threaded through it like moonlight over charcoal.

Mine.

Those are mine.

I take one careful step.

Then another.

My back legs feel too far away.

My tail—

I have a tail.

Oh my God.

I turn too fast trying to look at it and nearly fall over.

Somewhere behind me, Callum laughs.

I whip my head toward him.

The movement is so quick it startles me.

Everything is sharper now.

I can hear Mom crying.

Dad’s heartbeat.

A bird shifting on a branch twenty feet away.

Wind moving through individual leaves.

It is overwhelming.

Beautiful.

Terrifying.

I take another step.

The grass bends beneath my paws.

I can feel every blade against the pads of my feet.

A breeze moves across my coat.

My coat.

A strange joy rises beneath the fear.

I’m a wolf.

I’m actually—

Breathe.

I stop.

That wasn’t me.

The voice is quiet.

Female.

Calm.

Not heard with my ears.

Heard somewhere deeper.

My heart pounds.

Who are you?

Warm amusement moves through me.

Not mine.

Or maybe it is mine.

That is the strangest part.

She feels separate and completely familiar at the same time.

Like meeting someone I have somehow known my entire life.

You already know me.

I don’t.

I’m absolutely certain I don’t.

I really don’t.

A pause.

Then the presence curls through my mind like moonlight slipping through branches.

Hello, Camille.

My legs almost give out.

My family is still watching me from the edge of the clearing.

They can’t hear her.

I know that instinctively.

This is ours.

Something private.

Something impossible.

I swallow, though the movement feels different with this throat.

Do you have a name?

Her answer comes with a feeling first.

Dark sky.

Cold stars.

Moonlight over black water.

Then one word.

Nyx.

Nyx.

The name settles into me.

Not new.

Recovered.

I take another step.

This time my legs know where to go.

Then another.

My paws sink into the earth.

My muscles stretch beneath my skin with a strength I have never felt before.

Nyx moves with me.

Or I move with her.

I don’t know where one of us ends and the other begins.

For the first time all morning, I forget Drevin.

I forget Logan.

I forget who came.

Who didn’t.

I forget the fear that has been sitting inside my stomach for four days.

There is only wind.

Earth.

Muscle.

Breath.

And the wild, impossible certainty that my body finally understands something my mind never did.

I lower my front legs.

Instinct tightens through my muscles.

Then I run.

And Nyx runs with me.