Julian walked into one of Victor's cells where rogues are locked. He lit a match with trembling fingers. The cell’s dampness swallowed the flame, casting eerie shadows across the stone walls. Billy sat chained to the iron ring sunk into the floor, his eyes wild, yellow-tinged. The wolf in him had surfaced days ago but refused to retreat now."You're not going to hold him long like this," one of the guards muttered from behind Julian. "He’s chewing through the silver like it’s bone."Julian didn’t respond.He crouched, his voice soft, almost paternal. "Billy. You remember me, don't you?"Billy's eyes fluttered—momentary lucidity shining through madness. His lips curled back."You smell like guilt," the rogue rasped.Julian didn’t flinch. He removed the small flask from his coat. A single drop of wolfsbane into the tin bowl. The smell hit Billy like a brick—he gagged, snarling, but didn’t look away."Tell me what Victor's doing," Julian said. "Tell me what you saw under the Bleeding Moo
The house felt too still when she returned.She left the door ajar behind her... as if she didn’t want to sever the line to the woods. As if some feral part of her expected the trees to follow her home.The scent of wood smoke lingered low in the air, but it couldn’t drown out what clung to her skin: earth, sap, and something more metallic. Like copper. Like blood that wasn’t hers.Her grandmother stood at the stove, humming softly. Pancakes sizzled in the pan, butter and syrup turning to gold in the heat. A picture of comfort. Of safety.And yet...Emilia’s hands trembled as she reached for a glass of water. The trembling didn’t stop. Not even when she pressed her lips to the rim and drank until her stomach twisted.“I heard you out back earlier,” her grandmother said without turning. “With Asher?”Emilia’s gaze dragged toward her slowly. “Yeah. He’s teaching me... things.”The words felt too thin for what she meant. Asher wasn’t just teaching her how to fight or track. He was peelin
The forest held its breath that morning.Sunlight laced through the trees in slow, broken ribbons. Emilia stood barefoot in the wet grass behind the farmhouse, the cold biting into her toes, but she didn’t move. Her pulse ticked at her throat, not from cold, but from the echo of something deeper.A howl.Not from outside. Not now.From her dream.Low and mournful. It had crawled down her spine, pulling her toward something she couldn’t name. The voice was so clear it felt like it had come from within her skull, not her ears. A warning… or a call.She blinked hard, rubbed at the back of her neck.“Asher?” she whispered into the trees.But he was already there, leaning against a moss-covered oak with arms crossed, watching her with a quiet expression that didn’t quite reach a smile.“I didn’t say we were done sleeping,” she murmured.He shrugged. “The woods don’t wait for comfort.”His voice, low and unreadable, seemed to wrap around her like fog.“I didn’t know we had plans.”“You did,
The next morning was cold and windy, Emilia woke in Asher's arms.He’d wrapped her in a blanket sometime during the night, and now she was tucked against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath her cheek. For a long time, she didn’t move. Just lay there, listening. Breathing him in.Pine. Earth. Smoke. Him.She felt safe.That terrified her more than anything.“You’re awake,” he murmured, his lips brushing her hair.She sat up slowly, the blanket falling away. “Barely.”“Come on,” he said, standing. “We’re training.”She groaned. “Training? Why?”Asher’s grin was lazy and sharp. “Because, I don't want you to get hurt"Her heart skipped. He said it like a tease but his eyes didn’t laugh.They trained for hours, pushing deeper into the woods this time. No phones. No roads. Just raw instinct.Asher taught her how to move like a predator. How to breathe through fear. How to feel the world around her through something deeper than her senses. A pulse in the earth. A song in the wind.“You’
Nolan and Martha arrived at the fighting club trying to blend in and not raising suspicions while they waited for their Intel but the doorman was making it hard.A man stepped in. Mid-40s. Built like a pit bull.“Martha,” he said, smirking. “Didn’t think I’d see you down here with a badge.”“I’m not here for nostalgia, Dante.”Dante’s eyes flicked to Nolan. “You trust him?”“I trust the badge. Talk.”Dante opened a metal case, pulled out a stack of photos. “You’re looking for this guy.” He tossed a picture onto the bench. “Showed up two months ago. No name. Real quiet. Real fast. Broke three jaws and a collarbone his first night. Paid in cash. Disappeared like fog.”Nolan narrowed his eyes on the photo.Julian. Younger. But unmistakable.“He’s not human,” Dante muttered, not even trying to sound sane. “I’ve seen a lot of tough bastards in that ring. But he moved like smoke. And when he smiled… he had fangs.”Martha’s gaze sharpened. “He ever mention a gang? Friends? Collegues?.... A f
The thrift store smelled like rotting garbage and old rain.Detective Nolan ducked under the sagging crime scene tape, boots crunching against cracked asphalt. He swept the parking lot with sharp eyes, every mark, every scuff cataloged without a word. Even the dust patterns didn’t escape him, patches where footprints had disturbed the grime, small places too clean for coincidence.Around the perimeter, Martha prowled in civilian clothes, hands shoved deep into her jacket pockets. Her gaze flickered to the busted street-lamp by the entrance, then to the CCTV cameras....dead, black-eyed, useless. She frowned and kept moving, restless energy tightening her shoulders.Inside the store, the cashier watched her from behind the counter with the wide-eyed stillness of a trapped rabbit. She asked questions. He answered. Polite. Nervous. Too polished. By the time she stepped back outside, her mouth was a thin, angry line.Nolan glanced up as she approached."I just ran through the store's CCTV,
"Run!" Asher roared.Emilia took a step back, startled, then spun around. Her foot caught the edge of a rock and she stumbled before sprinting for the house.But Josie, Victor's companion, charged after her. His limbs twisted mid-sprint. Bone cracked. Muscle split and reshaped with grotesque precision. His mouth stretched, lips peeling back to reveal fangs. Half-human, half-wolf, claws shredding through the grass.Emilia screamed, a sharp, terrified sound that cut across the fields.Asher didn’t wait. His eyes flared gold.With a snarl, he launched forward. The air shimmered around him as his body snapped and shifted. Arms bent backward, fur exploded along his spine, and his growl deepened into something inhuman. By the time he reached Josie, he was half-shifted, a creature of claws and fury.He slammed Josie into the ground with a chokehold, his strength monstrous. With a roar, he hurled him across the yard. Josie crashed into a tree, bark splintering from the impact.Another blur...
As Emilia slammed the door shut behind her, her breath came in ragged gasps. Her chest heaved, her heart pounding like a drum caught in a storm. Sweat clung to her skin. Her hands trembled as they hovered near the doorknob. She hadn’t seen it, not clearly, but something about the wolf... the way it moved... something flickered just before her mind went blank.She didn’t know it had been Asher. She hadn’t seen him shift. Fear had gripped her too tightly.She slid to the floor, her back against the door. Her fingers curled into her cardigan as the images replayed in her head… claws, glowing eyes, snarls. Her body trembled as if still feeling the shockwaves. Her breath hitched, and she covered her mouth to stifle a sob.From the couch, her grandfather bolted upright."Sweetie? What happened?"Her grandmother stirred from the other room, voice heavy with sleep. "Is everything alright?""Wolves," Emilia managed, her voice a whisper as she struggled to steady it. "I saw wolves... fighting.
Emilia recovered slowly. The hospital walls had become her world for weeks, sterile, quiet, heavy with grief. She bore the pain, physical and emotional, without complaint, but each day left a new weight on her chest. When the doctors finally cleared her to leave, the air outside the hospital hit her lungs like a memory of freedom.Waiting by the curb, her grandparents stood arm in arm. Her grandfather stepped forward first."How are you, my darling?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion.Emilia blinked hard, eyes stinging. "I'm okay," she murmured, though her voice wavered.Her grandfather reached out, drawing her into a brief but firm embrace. "You'll be safe with us on the farm," he whispered, the crack in his voice betraying him.She nodded, swallowing back a sob.Her grandmother wrapped her arms around her next, a long, warm hug that smelled like flour and lavender. Her grandfather joined them, holding them both tightly. They lingered for a moment longer before guiding her to a