For three days, I avoided everyone. I called in sick to my library job, skipped classes, and ignored texts from both Harper and Caleb. I needed space to process the impossible truth that had shattered my understanding of reality.

Werewolves were real. I was part werewolf. In less than two weeks, I might transform into a creature I'd only ever encountered in books and movies.


My father was away at an academic conference, which was a blessing—I couldn't have hidden my turmoil from him. Instead, I holed up in my bedroom, alternating between denial, panic, and obsessive research.

I pulled out my mother's old journals and research notes, which I'd kept but rarely examined after her death. Reading them now, with new context, was like seeing them for the first time. What I'd once taken as metaphorical or mythological analysis now revealed itself as careful documentation of actual werewolf packs, bloodlines, and abilities.

She'd known. All along, she'd been studying her own kind while living as human.


On the third night—the night of the full moon—the dreams intensified to the point of physical pain. I woke drenched in sweat, my body aching as if I'd run for miles. Every sound was amplified—the neighbor's television three houses down, the rustle of leaves outside my window, the steady drip of the bathroom faucet I'd never quite fixed.

Smells overwhelmed me—the lingering scent of the pasta I'd cooked hours earlier, the laundry detergent on my sheets, the distinct musk of a raccoon passing through our yard.


I stumbled to the bathroom, flipping on the light and gasping at my reflection. My eyes, normally hazel-green, now glowed with a golden luminescence around the pupils. My canine teeth seemed sharper, more pronounced.

"This can't be happening," I whispered, gripping the sink as a wave of nausea passed through me.

My phone buzzed on my nightstand. Despite my self-imposed isolation, I lurched back to my bedroom to check it, desperate for any distraction from what was happening to my body.

It was Caleb: *I know you need space, but tonight is dangerous. The full moon affects even those who haven't transformed. Please let me help you through it.*

As if on cue, moonlight spilled through my window as clouds shifted, bathing my room in silver light. The effect was immediate and overwhelming—heat rushing through my veins, muscles tensing, a wild energy building inside me that demanded release.

I typed back with shaking fingers: *Something's happening. My eyes. My teeth. I can't control it.*

His response came instantly: *I'm outside your house. Let me in.*

He was here? I moved to the window, pulling back the curtain. Sure enough, Caleb stood in my front yard, looking up at my window. Even from this distance, in the darkness, I could see him clearly—another sign of my changing senses.

I should have been angry that he'd come without invitation, that he was monitoring me. Instead, I felt a profound relief. Whatever was happening to me, I didn't want to face it alone.

I made my way downstairs on unsteady legs and opened the front door. Caleb stood on the porch, his expression a mixture of concern and restraint.

"May I come in?" he asked formally.

"Yes," I whispered, stepping back to let him enter.

He moved past me into the house, his scent—cedar and wild rain—hitting me with new intensity. My body responded instinctively, leaning toward him before I caught myself.

"Let me see," he said gently, tilting my face up to the light. His eyes studied mine, noting the golden glow. "The moon is affecting you strongly. Earlier than I expected."

"What's happening to me?" My voice trembled despite my efforts to stay calm.

"Your wolf is responding to the full moon." He guided me to the living room sofa, sitting beside me but maintaining a careful distance. "It's trying to emerge, but you're not ready for a full transformation yet."

"It hurts," I admitted, wrapping my arms around myself as another wave of heat and tension rolled through me.

"I know." His voice was soft with empathy. "The first few moons are the hardest, before you learn to work with your wolf instead of fighting it."

"How do I stop fighting it if I don't even know what 'it' is?" I asked, frustration breaking through my fear.

"Close your eyes," he instructed. "Focus on your breathing. Try to sense the presence inside you—the part that's responding to the moonlight."

It sounded ridiculous, but I was desperate enough to try anything. I closed my eyes, concentrating on my breath as he suggested. At first, I felt nothing but my own anxiety and discomfort. Then, gradually, I became aware of something else—a consciousness separate from my own yet intrinsically part of me. Wild, instinctual, powerful.

My wolf.

"I can feel her," I whispered, amazed.

"Good." Caleb's voice anchored me. "Don't try to suppress her. Acknowledge her presence. Let her know you're not enemies."

I focused on the wolf-consciousness, trying to project acceptance rather than fear. The pain in my muscles eased slightly, though the restless energy remained.

"She wants to run," I said, understanding the urge that had been building all evening.

"That's natural on the full moon." Caleb shifted closer, his proximity both comforting and electrifying. "We can go for a run if you want—in human form. The movement will help satisfy the urge without triggering a premature transformation."

I opened my eyes to find him watching me with an intensity that made my breath catch. "You'd do that? Just run with me?"

"I'd do a lot more than that to help you through this, Eve." The simple sincerity in his voice made my heart ache.

"Why?" I challenged, needing to understand his motives. "Because of my bloodline? Because I'm a Gray and that's politically useful to you?"

Pain flashed across his features. "Is that what you think? That everything has been about politics?"

"Hasn't it?" I stood up, too agitated to remain still. "You sought me out because of what I am. You created this whole fake relationship to keep me close while I started changing."

"That's how it started," he acknowledged, rising to face me. "But it's not why I'm here tonight. Not why I can't stop thinking about you, worrying about you." He ran a hand through his hair, a rare gesture of frustration. "Do you think I stand outside the houses of all newly awakening werewolves? That I feel this... this pull toward everyone with Gray blood?"

"I don't know what to think anymore," I admitted. "Everything I thought I knew about myself, about the world, has been turned upside down. And you—" I gestured helplessly. "I don't know what's real with you and what's part of the act."

He moved closer, his amber eyes intent on mine. "This is real," he said quietly. "What I feel for you has nothing to do with pack politics or bloodlines. It terrifies me how real it is."

The admission hung between us, charged with possibility. Before I could respond, another wave of moon-energy surged through me, stronger than before. I gasped, doubling over as my muscles spasmed.

"Eve!" Caleb was beside me instantly, his arm around my waist supporting me. "We need to get you moving. The energy needs an outlet."

"I can't go outside like this," I protested, gesturing to my glowing eyes. "What if someone sees?"

"We'll go to the woods behind your house," he said decisively. "It's private property that backs up to Blackwood land. No one will see us there."

The idea of running through the forest under the full moon should have frightened me. Instead, it called to something primal within me, something that recognized the rightness of such an action.

"Okay," I agreed, straightening with effort. "Let me change first."

Five minutes later, dressed in leggings and a hoodie, I followed Caleb through our back gate and into the wooded area beyond. The moment we were among the trees, a strange calm settled over me. This felt right—the soft earth beneath my feet, the canopy of branches overhead dappling the moonlight, the rich scents of soil and growth and wild things.

"Ready?" Caleb asked, his own eyes gleaming gold in the darkness.

I nodded, and then he was moving, setting a pace that would have been challenging for me a week ago but now felt perfectly matched to my new abilities. I followed, my body responding with unexpected grace and power.

We ran in silence, deeper into the forest, away from houses and roads and human concerns. The restless energy that had been building inside me found release in the rhythmic movement, in the cool night air against my skin, in the freedom of simply being.