The Truth In His Eyes

Vivian POV

My head feels like it’s splitting open, a dull throb that drags me out of a dark, dreamless void. I’m on the floor, the kitchen tile cold and unyielding against my cheek, and the air smells like shattered glass and something wild—like pine and earth, but sharper, more alive, like a forest after a storm. My eyes flutter open, and the first thing I see is him. Tyler Grayson, kneeling in front of me, his green eyes glowing with a worry that makes my chest ache in a way I don’t understand. Then it all comes rushing back—the creature at the window, its yellow eyes glinting with hunger, the way Tyler… changed. He turned into a wolf. A massive, dark-furred wolf with those same green eyes. My breath catches, a sharp gasp, and I scramble back, my hands slipping on the tile as panic claws up my throat, raw and suffocating.

I’m Vivian Harper, the girl who hides in books and shadows, the one who’s never been special, never been anything but ordinary. This can’t be real. But the broken window, glass glittering across the counter like fallen stars, the faint scratches on the floor where my nails—claws—dug in… it’s all real. Too real. My heart pounds, the hum under my skin a storm I can’t control, and I can still see it—Tyler’s body rippling, fur spreading across his skin, his growl shaking the room as he fought that thing. He’s human again now, his leather jacket torn at the shoulder, but those eyes, the same green as the wolf’s, tell me I didn’t imagine it. They’re locked on me, steady but intense, like he’s waiting for me to break.

“Vivian, hey, it’s okay,” Tyler says, his voice low and steady, like he’s talking to a spooked animal. He reaches for me, his hand hovering in the air, but I flinch, and he stops, his jaw tightening. “You’re safe. It’s gone.”

“Safe?” My voice cracks, high and shaky, as I push myself up against the cabinets, the cold wood biting into my back. My nails are normal again, but they feel wrong, like they could change any second, like they’re waiting for another surge. “You—you turned into a wolf, Tyler! That thing—it was at my window! What the hell is happening?”

He winces, running a hand through his dark hair, and I notice a thin line of blood on his shoulder, soaking through his torn shirt in a dark, uneven stain. He’s hurt, but he doesn’t seem to care, his focus entirely on me. “I know it’s a lot,” he says, his tone careful, like he’s choosing every word with precision. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but you weren’t ready. I didn’t think it’d happen this fast—not like this.”

“Tell me what?” I snap, my fear turning to anger, hot and sharp in my chest. The hum surges, a jolt that makes my vision sharpen, the room too bright, every sound too loud—the drip of the faucet, the creak of the house settling, Tyler’s steady breathing like a drum in my ears. I clutch my head, trying to breathe through it, my fingers tangling in my hair. “What am I, Tyler? What are you?”

He shifts closer, slow and deliberate, like he’s afraid I’ll bolt. “I’m a werewolf,” he says, his voice firm but soft, the words landing like stones in still water. “And so are you, Vivian. That’s what I meant when I said you’re not what you think. You’ve been hidden—kept from this world—but you can’t hide anymore. Not with the moon calling you.”

I stare at him, my mouth dry, my mind screaming that this is insane. Werewolves aren’t real. They’re myths, stories I read about in dog-eared paperbacks, not… me. But the hum, the claws, the way my senses are spiraling—it’s all too much to deny. My hands tremble as I press them to my face, trying to block it out. “No,” I whisper, shaking my head so hard my hair falls into my eyes. “I can’t be. I’m just… me. I’m nobody.”

“You’re not nobody,” Tyler says, his voice fierce now, cutting through my panic like a blade. His eyes lock on mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch, a pull I can’t name. “You’re one of us. You’re my—” He stops, jaw tightening, like he’s holding something back, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“Your what?” I press, my voice trembling but firm. I need answers, even if they scare me, even if they break me. “What am I to you, Tyler? Why are you here?”

He hesitates, then lets out a slow breath, his gaze softening, though the intensity doesn’t fade. “You’re my mate,” he says, the words heavy, like they carry a weight I can’t yet grasp. “It’s… a bond. A connection we’re born with. I felt it the moment I saw you—your scent, your presence. That’s why I came to Westbridge. To find you.”

“Mate?” I echo, the word foreign, ridiculous, but it sends a shiver through me, the hum flaring in response like it recognizes what he’s saying. I want to laugh, to tell him he’s crazy, but the way he’s looking at me—like I’m the only thing in the world—makes it hard to breathe. “I don’t even know what that means. I don’t know you!”

“I know,” he says, his voice gentle again, but there’s a flicker of pain in his eyes, a shadow that makes my heart twist. “And I’m sorry it’s happening like this. I wanted to ease you into it, give you time, but that thing—the rogue—it’s been hunting you. It can smell what you are, same as I can.”

The rogue. Those yellow eyes flash in my mind, glowing with a hunger that still makes my skin crawl, and I shudder, wrapping my arms around myself, my hoodie suddenly feeling too thin. “What does it want with me?” I ask, my voice small, barely audible over the hum. “Why me?”

Tyler’s jaw tightens, and he glances at the broken window, his body tensing like he’s ready to fight again, his shoulders squared. “You’re waking up,” he says, his voice low, serious. “Your power—it’s strong, stronger than most. It draws things like that. Rogues, hunters… they’ll come for you if they know what you are.”

“Hunters?” I choke out, my head spinning, the word landing like a punch. “You mean people… hunt us? Like, actually hunt us?”

“Yeah,” he says grimly, his eyes darkening, a storm brewing behind them. “And they’re closer than I’d like. That’s why we need to move. You can’t stay here—not tonight, not with that rogue out there.”

I shake my head, panic rising again, a wave that threatens to drown me. “Move? I can’t just—I can’t leave! My mom, my life—” My voice breaks, and I hate how small I sound, how scared. But I am scared. My whole world is cracking open, shattering like the glass on the counter, and I don’t know how to hold it together.

Tyler reaches for me again, and this time I don’t pull away. His hand is warm on mine, steadying, and the hum calms, just a little, like it recognizes him, like it trusts him even if I don’t. “I’ll keep you safe,” he says, his voice a promise, fierce and unwavering. “I swear it, Vivian. But we need to go—now.”

I want to argue, to cling to the normal I’ve always known, but the shattered window, the memory of that creature’s claws, tells me normal’s gone. I nod, shaky, and let him help me up. My legs wobble, but his grip is firm, grounding me as we head for the back door, stepping over the broken frame where he’d burst in.

We’re barely outside, the night air cold against my skin, the moon casting long shadows across the backyard, when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, my hands trembling—Mom, probably checking in after her shift. But the screen shows an unknown number, and the message makes my blood run cold: We know what you are, Harper. Run while you can.

I freeze, my breath hitching, my fingers going numb around the phone. Tyler’s eyes snap to the screen, his body tensing beside me. “What is it?” he asks, his voice sharp, urgent.

Before I can answer, a sound cuts through the night—not a howl this time, but a low, guttural growl, coming from the woods beyond the yard. It’s back. The rogue. And this time, it’s not alone—another set of yellow eyes glows beside it, both pairs fixed on us, unblinking, as the shadows begin to move.