CHAPTER 4

Elijah arrived restless.

The wolf had not stopped pacing since Thursday. It murmured beneath his ribs with low, impatient tension. He felt it in the shift of his breath, in the strength in his hands, and in the strange alertness that hummed under his skin.

He entered the basement exactly on time.

The group had already started gathering. Margaret arranged her purse on her lap. Sarah wiped under her eyes. Robert sat with his posture rigid but calmer than before. Curtis, who had stood for two sessions straight, finally chose a chair without any fanfare.

No one spoke to Elijah. No one ever did.

He sat in his usual place. The seat beside him remained empty.

The wolf disliked that.

Dr. Chen greeted everyone and prepared to begin, but the door opened before she could speak.

Jaxon walked in.

His presence arrived before his voice. Damp curls, dark hoodie with a faded design, and a grin that looked like he had already done something he should not admit to.

He saw Elijah first.

Something sparked between them. Immediate, alive and yet wrong in a way that felt too good.

Jaxon slid into the seat beside him as if the chair had been reserved for him.

“You came early,” Jaxon murmured.

“And you came back,” Elijah replied.

Jaxon’s grin softened. “I figured you would notice.”

Dr. Chen started the session before Elijah could respond. “Tonight, I want us to explore how grief changes our behavior.”

Margaret spoke first. Her voice shook. Robert followed with a memory that turned his words thick with emotion. Sarah could not speak yet, but she tried. Curtis said nothing, but his jaw moved as if he were chewing on words he refused to release.

Elijah listened with one ear. The rest of his attention sharpened around the man beside him.

Jaxon was quieter than previous nights. No joking or performance. His foot tapped once, and his hands sat still. He watched the group with an expression that looked almost protective.

Dr. Chen turned toward him. “Jaxon, would you like to speak tonight?”

He took a breath that sounded heavier than usual.

“I woke up today,” he said, “and I could not tell if I was myself or some old version of me I thought I buried.”

Everyone listened.

“It felt like walking around inside a skin that did not belong to me anymore. Like I was wearing someone else’s clothes and everyone could see the fit was wrong.”

He paused.

“I think grief can be that too. Not loud or sharp. Just the feeling that you do not fit inside your own life.”

The room grew quiet.

Sarah whispered, “Yes. That is exactly how it feels.”

Jaxon lowered his gaze, and his curls fell forward. For once, he looked entirely unguarded.

The wolf inside Elijah stared with unblinking interest.

When the session ended, chairs scraped, and people shuffled toward the exit. No one spoke to Jaxon, but several glanced at him in a different way. They were softer and more accepting.

Elijah stayed seated.

Jaxon grabbed his bag and walked toward the hallway without looking back, as if he expected Elijah to follow.

Elijah did.

He found him outside, standing under the archway again. Jaxon was not smoking tonight. He had his hands shoved into his pockets and his shoulders slightly hunched against the cold air.

“You spoke again,” Elijah said.

Jaxon turned. “I was trying something new called honesty. It is terrible. I do not recommend it.”

Elijah stepped closer. “You do not have to pretend here.”

“That is why it scares me,” Jaxon said. His words were quiet but sharp.

Rain tapped against the stone above them. The scent of wet pavement and city air drifted between them.

“Why did you follow me again?” Jaxon asked.

“I do not know,” Elijah answered. He meant it.

Jaxon studied him. “Actually, I think you do.”

Elijah reached out before he thought about it. He touched Jaxon’s wrist, just enough for their skin to meet.

Jaxon inhaled sharply.

“Elijah,” he said, barely above a whisper, “that feels like you want something.”

“I do,” Elijah admitted.

Jaxon’s lips parted in surprise, then curved into something unsteady. Something dangerously close to want.

“What are you?” Elijah asked softly.

Jaxon stepped closer until their chests nearly brushed. “Something broken. Something that did not stay down when it should have.”

Elijah’s hand slid up Jaxon’s forearm. He did not pull him closer. He simply held him, as if the answer lived in the warmth of his skin.

“You are not human,” Elijah said. “Not entirely.”

Jaxon exhaled. “I never said I was.”

“Then what are you?”

“I do not know what or who I am anymore,” Jaxon said. “But you make me feel like someone with a pulse.”

The words hit Elijah with quiet force. Something inside him shifted. The wolf pressed forward with a hungry sound he felt in his spine.

“This is dangerous,” Elijah said.

Jaxon leaned in just enough to test the air between them. “Then why are we both still here?”

Elijah did not move.

Neither did Jaxon.

Rain blurred the edges of the world outside the archway. Everything felt sharpened and slowed at the same time.

“You smell like heat and trouble,” Jaxon murmured. “It is doing things to me.”

“You do not understand what you are inviting,” Elijah said.

Jaxon stepped closer. “Then explain it.”

Elijah nearly did.

Nearly.

He pulled his hand back at the last moment, though every part of him resisted the movement.

“You should go,” Elijah said.

Jaxon held his gaze. “Tell me you do not want me to stay.”

Elijah did not answer.

Jaxon’s smile faded in a way that felt sincere. He stepped back, rain catching on his lashes.

“I will see you on Thursday,” he said.

He walked away, leaving the cold air trembling behind him.

The wolf pressed against Elijah’s ribs with a single thought.

He is not prey. He is not prey. He is something else.

Elijah stood under the archway long after Jaxon disappeared into the night.

He could still feel the warmth of his wrist against his fingertips.

That warmth felt like the beginning of something he did not trust at all.

And something he wanted way too much.