FAZER 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
"You have to be, when you can't rely on others," I offer instead, turning the statement back toward myself. He'll take it any way he wants to. It costs me less this way. "You learn not to get too comfortable. Not to get too close." Lucas holds my gaze, unflinching, then nods slowly. The movement is
The night presses close, all music and murmurs and clinking glass. We slip into an alcove where the air is thick with velvet curtains and the scent of possibilities. I feel him beside me, a shadow in this private half-light. "Tell me something real," he says, voice smooth and quiet against the din.
His suggestion is a challenge, and we both know it. I follow, knowing it's a mistake even as I step into the shadows he offers. The crowd's clamor dulls to a whisper behind us, and we stop near a towering floral display that blots out most of the light. It's too intimate, too removed. I'm more aware
He moves like smoke, obscuring then revealing with careful grace. I expect him to speak first, to set the rhythm of this encounter, but he surprises me by offering a silent toast instead. The flute catches the light, a crystalline pause between us. "You beat me to it," I say, accepting his challenge







