LOGINReynolds is smart; that’s the whole problem. He’s built his accusation on a lattice of “concern” and “unexplained deviations,” every line engineered to sound plausible while remaining deniable. No hard evidence, but just enough smoke for the board to believe there’s a fire. I grab a legal pad and s
He shrugs. “Consider it a professional courtesy. The real show will start in the morning. I thought you’d appreciate a head start.” He picks up my pen, twirls it between his fingers, leaves a shallow groove in the finish. “You’ve always been… unpredictable, Mara. But this?” He gestures to the letter
The city is a carcass picked clean by neon, the buildings outside my window hunched together in the rain like scavengers at a feast. Inside, the office is hermetically sealed, cut off from anything that bleeds or breathes. The only movement is the slow convulsion of my espresso machine’s dying last,
I nod, letting the tension crackle. “But you’re better at it.” He drops his gaze, only for a second. “Maybe. But not with you.” The moment holds, the air so dense it could shatter under its own weight. I let the wolf take the front seat, let her see if the evidence holds. She paces, circles, runs
Let them come for me, I think. Let them try. I let the clock tick down until the building is utterly dead, until the only proof of life is the pool of light at my desk and the relentless, arrhythmic snarl of rain against the windows. I think Lucas has left for good this time, that I can finally re
“You sabotage any of it?” I ask. My voice is two degrees colder than before. He nods. “When I could. I intercepted three wire transfers, rerouted them to an empty account and then reported it as a bank error. It cost them a month’s momentum.” He pushes another page forward—a receipt, a falsified no
The wolf dominates with relentless force. The moon dictates. The moon owns. My body sings with strength. I don’t know how to be Mara in this primal melody. I don’t know how to be Mara at all. Power surges in unfamiliar rhythms. The forest yields to my strength. I don’t want to yield. It is wild. It
The sounds are a violent rush. The cracking of branches. The scurry of prey. The sounds of my life. The sound of my bones. They are more than I can take, more than I am, more than I want. The violent and primal edge of it, and the quickness of it, the quickness and the loudness and the brightness
The world is a distorted blur. A terrifying abstraction. I feel my body disintegrate with the speed of the transformation. With the urgent and uncompromising force of the change. The first tingling spreads, the initial cracks ripple, and the seams of my skin explode with light. I can’t contain this.
The final confirmation comes in the shape of a hidden file, a false-bottomed drawer, a false life. Derek’s private study is full of shadows, of secrets, of quiet deceit. The storm drums against the windows like a warning, like an omen, like the edges of what I know to be true. I begin my search with







