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
I almost don’t pick up, letting it ring in my hand like an accusation, like a promise I might regret. But I know she’ll keep calling. Mara’s never been one to let things go. Not when she’s this close. Her voice is tight, careful, an admission she needs me that she can’t quite say. I feel my resolve
Her voice comes through the line like a taut wire, strained and urgent. I almost don’t answer, letting the phone buzz in my hand, letting the moment stretch long enough to tell myself I have a choice. I know the stakes, the weight of our history, the way she only calls when she’s close to unraveling
The phone is warm in my hand, a fragile promise of the support I keep telling myself I don’t need. I look at Derek’s name on the screen, my thumb hovering over it, feeling the pull of everything he complicates, everything he simplifies. My senses are raw, the room too bright, too loud, my skin too t
The pen wavers in my hand, an unsteady promise, an unsteady threat. I draw a line through Derek’s name, feel the pull to call him, to complicate things. The urge is sharp, almost as sharp as my need to avoid him, to handle this on my own. The breeze catches the edge of the calendar, rustling it like







