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
The city stretches beneath me, flickering like the reckless hope I’ve let take root. I lean against the kitchen island, the wine glass cold in my hand, thoughts running hot and fast. The calendar hangs nearby, its red circle a mark of my own defiance. The invitation is a silent provocation, promisin
I sit at the vanity, the invitation like an accusation at my side. It catches the lamplight, sending tiny, taunting reflections across the mirror, across my face. My own eyes challenge me from the glass, daring me to risk it, daring me to ignore the cost. I scroll through photos on my phone, past ga
It arrives like an exquisite threat. The cream-colored envelope, heavy in my hand, seems to whisper promises of elegance and exposure. I hold it up to the lamp, where the embossed gold lettering shimmers with too much allure. My fingers hesitate, absorbing the texture, imagining the risk. The courie
From across the room, I watch Derek charm his way through the crowd, a social butterfly in a sea of dull moths. I hold a champagne flute in my hand, the bubbles rising like my jealousy as he works the room with ease, drawing my colleagues in with his practiced sincerity. The scent of expensive perfu







