LOGINThe first pale light of dawn seeps through the slats of my office blinds, painting thin lines across the carpet. I stand at the window, pulling back the edge of the blinds to watch the city wake beneath me. The streets are quiet, peaceful—unaware of the betrayal I've uncovered through the night. My
The evidence glows on my screen like a digital confession, but it's not enough. I need more—something concrete, something undeniable. My fingers move across the keyboard with deliberate precision, each keystroke a small act of vengeance. The wolf in me wants blood, wants to tear through the building
The light from my computer screen casts blue shadows across my office, the only illumination besides the small desk lamp I've angled away from the door. My body aches with the recent memory of transformation, muscles still remembering a different shape, but my mind is sharp, honed by suspicion and t
By the time I reach the final button, my breathing has steadied. My reflection in the cracked mirror shows a woman reassembling herself piece by careful piece. The scratches at my collarbone will be hidden by the high neckline. The shadows under my eyes can be concealed with makeup. The wildness in
The crisp trousers slide over my legs, covering the scratches and bruises that map last night's journey. The fabric whispers against my skin, a language of civilization, of humanness, of control. I smooth nonexistent wrinkles from the material, a ritual of normalcy that grounds me in this form, in t
Lucas in the park that night weeks ago, his silhouette backlit by streetlamps as I completed my transformation in the shadows, thinking myself unseen. His strange calm when he approached, as if finding a colleague hunched and feral among the trees was nothing extraordinary. Lila noticing my monthly
My presence lingers in the office, a shadow that waits for the thief to arrive. I leave the door unlocked, a tactical oversight, a trap set with my own hand. The bait is tantalizing. The bait is a lie. I imagine Derek’s pulse quickening at the sight of it, imagine his hands shaking as he touches wha
Derek clutches the papers to his chest, the chest I used to know, used to love, used to believe in. “You think I’m stealing from you?” he says, and the disbelief is more than I can take, more than I can hear, more than I can stand. The rawness is unbearable, is uncontainable, is too much. The truth
The bedroom is a yawning void of silence, too loud and too empty to be sleep. Derek's breathing fills the space beside me, but I know he's awake. I feel it in the shift of the mattress, in the shift of the air, in the secrets that won't let me rest. I keep my eyes shut, pretend not to notice when he
He glances at me, and I wonder if he can read my thoughts, wonder if he can read them as easily as I read his, as easily as I read the distance in his voice, the distance in his presence, the distance in us. “Everything alright?” he asks, his question a mimicry, a reflection, a ploy. He is too con







