CHAPTER 5

Elijah arrived at the basement before everyone else.

The room sat in silence. The chairs were arranged in their familiar circle. The faint smell of coffee drifted from the corner. The air felt still, as if the room waited for something that had not happened yet.

He tried to tell himself he was early only because he needed silence. That lie lasted all of three seconds.

The truth was simple.

He wanted to know whether Jaxon would come back after what had transpired between them.

He sat in his usual chair. His eyes remained on the empty space beside him. The wolf inside him paced again, slow and deliberate, as if preparing for something it could not name yet.

People trickled in one by one. Margaret, Sarah, Robert, Curtis. They filled the circle in their slow, familiar rhythm. Their grief created a steady hum in the air, the same as every week.

Still, the seat next to Elijah stayed empty.

The moment felt suspended. It irritated him. It unsettled him. It crawled under his skin in a way he could not ignore.

He told himself it did not matter, but it mattered enough to sharpen his breath.

Dr. Chen began the session. “Let us start by noticing how our bodies feel tonight. Sometimes emotion shows up physically before it appears in our thoughts.”

The group murmured, and people shifted. Sarah rubbed her arms as if cold. Margaret pressed her hand to her throat.

Elijah stayed still. His body felt too aware, as if every part of him waited for a sound that had not arrived yet.

Then, the hallway door opened quietly. He felt it like a spark against his spine.

Jaxon walked in.

He wore a black sweater with rips along one sleeve. His curls were pushed back from his face. His expression was unreadable until his eyes reached Elijah.

Then something lit up.

Not a smile, or mischief.

Recognition.

He walked directly to the empty chair and sat beside him. The warmth of his body drifted across the space between them like an invitation Elijah did not know how to refuse.

“You came early again,” Jaxon whispered.

“Look who came back,” Elijah said.

Jaxon leaned slightly toward him. “You sound like you expected me.”

“I did not,” Elijah said.

“You are still lying,” Jaxon replied.

The wolf pressed forward, alert and hungry.

Dr. Chen began speaking again, but Elijah barely heard the words. The room felt distant. The scent of rain on Jaxon’s clothes felt closer than the chair beneath him.

When Sarah began talking about her fear of forgetting her son’s voice, the room shifted back into focus for a moment. Elijah listened as she spoke through pauses and trembling breath.

Jaxon listened too, his expression softer than Elijah had ever seen.

When Sarah finished, she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. Jaxon reached over and placed a fresh tissue on her knee. He did not say anything. She looked up at him with red eyes and whispered, “Thank you.”

“I know what it feels like to lose something you still hear in your head,” he said.

Those words were quiet. Too quiet for anyone but Elijah to fully hear.

The wolf stopped pacing and focused.

Halfway through the session, Dr. Chen turned toward Elijah. “Would you like to share something tonight?”

He hesitated.

“No,” he said.

“You have been attending consistently,” she said. “Most people who continue coming are trying to find something here.”

“I am not most people,” Elijah replied.

Jaxon leaned close enough that his breath warmed Elijah’s jaw. “No. You are not.”

The session ended soon after. People lingered in slow, drifting movements. The basement air felt thick with unspoken things.

Jaxon stood and slung his bag over his shoulder. He looked at Elijah.

“You are coming out with me,” he said.

It was not a question. It was not a demand. It was something in between.

Elijah followed him into the hallway.

Outside, the night carried a cool breeze. The streetlights threw pale light across the pavement. Jaxon stood beneath the glow, hands in his pockets, curls blowing in the wind like soft shadows.

“You felt that too,” Jaxon said.

Elijah kept his expression still. “I do not know what you mean.”

Jaxon stepped forward. “You do.”

The wolf pushed to the surface with sudden force. Elijah took a slow breath to steady himself.

“Do not get close,” Elijah warned.

“You do not want distance,” Jaxon said. His voice held a quiet certainty that made something deep inside Elijah respond.

“You do not understand what I am,” Elijah said.

“Then show me,” Jaxon replied.

Before Elijah could step back, Jaxon reached up and touched his chest. Just his fingertips. It was barely pressure, only warmth.

Elijah’s pulse jumped. His breath shifted. The wolf rose like a storm breaking through the surface.

Jaxon’s eyes widened. “There it is again, that!” he whispered. “I felt that.”

Elijah caught his wrist, not harshly, but with enough force to hold him in place.

“You should not touch me,” Elijah said.

Jaxon stepped closer. “Then let go.”

Elijah did not let go.

Jaxon’s breath brushed Elijah’s lips. “What are you hiding?”

Elijah leaned in without meaning to. Their foreheads nearly touched. Their breaths mingled. Heat rolled between them, quiet and consuming.

“You do not want to know,” Elijah said.

“I do,” Jaxon whispered. “I want the truth.”

Elijah felt something snap inside him. It was neither pain nor grief.

It was instinct.

His hand slid up Jaxon’s arm. He pulled him close enough that their chests met. Jaxon inhaled sharply, and a faint tremor moved through him.

“You should run,” Elijah said.

Jaxon shook his head. “I am tired of running.”

Elijah pressed his forehead to Jaxon’s for a single, reckless second.

The wolf surged.

His vision sharpened. His breath thickened. Heat rose beneath his skin. His eyes shifted with a pulse of silver that flashed in the shadows.

Jaxon froze. His pupils expanded.

“Elijah,” he whispered. “Your eyes.”

Elijah pulled back too fast. His breath came through clenched teeth.

“This is why you need to stay away,” he said.

Jaxon stared at him as if seeing him clearly for the first time. “That did not scare me.”

“It should,” Elijah said.

“It did not,” Jaxon repeated, voice steady. “Nothing about you scares me.”

Elijah stared at him. “Everyone fears wolves.”

Jaxon shook his head. “Not if they have already lived with worse monsters.”

Those words landed with quiet force.

“What are you?” Elijah asked, almost a plea.

Jaxon’s expression softened. “I do not know yet. But when I am with you, I feel like someone alive.”

The wolf pushed again. Elijah swallowed hard.

“This is dangerous,” Elijah said.

Jaxon stepped closer. “Then stop me.”

Elijah could not.

He stood perfectly still as Jaxon reached up, touched his jaw, and traced a line down the side of his throat.

His fingers were warm. Elijah felt the heat in a way that was not human.

“Tell me to stop,” Jaxon whispered.

Elijah did not speak.

Jaxon’s thumb brushed his lip.

The wolf snarled within the cage of his ribs.

“Elijah,” Jaxon whispered. “What are you afraid of?”

“You,” Elijah said.

Jaxon’s breath hitched. “Good.”

He leaned in.

Their lips almost touched.

They were dangerously close, it felt electric. 

Elijah turned his face away at the last second, breath sharp, chest tight.

“I cannot,” he said.

Jaxon closed his eyes in frustration, then nodded slowly. “Then I will wait.”

Elijah opened his mouth to speak, but Jaxon stepped back first.

“I will see you Tuesday,” he said.

He walked away into the night.

Elijah remained under the streetlight, breathing as if he had run miles.

Inside him, the wolf pressed forward and spoke with absolute clarity.

He is not prey. He is not passing through. He is ours.

Elijah shut his eyes.

He wished the wolf was wrong.

He wished he felt nothing.

He wished he had stepped back sooner.

Instead, he could still feel the heat of Jaxon’s touch long after he disappeared into the dark.

And that terrified him more than anything.