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 body trembles, but not with the change, not with the heat of the change, not with the force of the change. It trembles with the force of the night, the force of the storm, the force of my heart. “Game on.” The memory is there, the memory of his betrayal, of his betrayal and my knowledge of
His words hang between us, hang like the damp night, hang like my indecision, my uncertainty, my hesitation. I feel more exposed than I did in the park, more exposed than I have ever felt, more exposed than I want to be. But the difference is that I want this. I want this. The storm is constant,
The first raindrop hits the window with a soft click, an isolated sound against the silence. I glance up, expecting it to be the only one, but the sky opens in sudden release, sudden surrender, a deluge against the glass. Lightning flares on the horizon, illuminating the storm with sharp intensity.
We stand there, stand there and wait, stand there and want, stand there and be, be there and not be there, be there and somewhere else, somewhere we aren’t supposed to be. It’s never too late. The elevator reaches the lobby, and I hesitate, and Lucas doesn’t, and I follow, and he leads, and I fol







