Chapter 93
“Are you okay?” Max’s voice is laced with concern, but it feels distant, as if coming from underwater.
“Cramps,” I manage to gasp out, each word spiked with agony. The transformation is close, too close. My vision blurs, trees and sky merging into a spinning carousel of colors. I must get him to safety before-
“Which way, Bree?” Max’s question slices through my disorientation.
I blink hard, trying to clear the fog in my head. “This way–no, wait.” Every direction looks the same, foreign and twisted. We’re lost, wandering aimlessly as precious minutes trickle
away.
“Damn it,” I curse under my breath. I grab his hand and continue to drag Max through the forest. My heart pounds in time with our racing footsteps. The crunch of twigs beneath our feet seems unbearably loud on this quiet night when I hear other wolves howling, and I know they can sense me; my pheromones are off the charts.
“Stick close to me,” I order him, my voice laced with an urgency that has him nodding silently, all protests forgotten.
The moonlight streams down through the gaps in the canopy, casting a path for us to follow. I try to stay in the shadows of the trees, knowing that the moonlight touching me may force the shift I am barely controlling. We weave in and out of the shadows, the dense undergrowth pulling at our clothes as if
Chapter 93
trying to slow us down. Another branch snaps under Max’s foot, the sound echoing eerily as I cast a nervous glance around. Goosebumps lace my skin, and the scent of other wolves drifts under my nose as the breeze shifts.
Max’s breathing is ragged, a mix of fear and exertion, and his eyes dart around wildly, reflecting both the moonlight and his growing panic. It seems now he is realizing the mistake he made by coming to find me. His grip on my hand tightens, and he shakes my hand for reassurance that I’m struggling to give when the howls grow nearer. Despite his obvious terror, he matches my pace, trusting me to get him home safely. But I’m beginning to slow, my body struggling to fight against the urge to shift.
We’re too late. The change is starting.
Panic seizes me as a shiver w wracks my body. I can barely contain a whimper as my bones start shifting beneath my flesh. Every muscle burns as though exposed to white–hot flames–my sight wavers. The world is tilting on its axis, my vision and sense enhancing, morphing.
“No…” I grit out between my clenched teeth, stumbling and dropping Max’s hand. He spins around, worry etched across his face. “Bree?” he murmurs, and I shove him away when he tries to touch me.
“What’s happening?” he asks, his voice trembling slightly. But I can’t answer him. The pain is blinding now.
“You need to go!” I growl, jumping at the sound of my beast coming forward.
Without a word or explanation, I push Max away as hard as I can. I send him sprawling into a pile of leaves near a towering
Chapter 93
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oak. He cries out in shock, but I don’t have time to comfort him or explain again why he needs to stay away from me.
The first silver ray of moonlight brushes against my skin, and I feel it–the shift. It rips through me like a hurricane, bones contorting, flesh reshaping.
“Max…” The word is a growl, torn from a throat that’s no longer fully human.
He recoils, eyes wide with horror as the change overtakes me. I want to tell him not to be afraid, that I won’t hurt him, but the beast has no voice for lies.
“Run,” I manage to snarl, the command rough and guttural.
But he’s rooted to the spot, transfixed by the grotesque metamorphosis I am trying desperately to stop. “Please!” I beg him, but he remains, gaping at me in horror. If Max doesn’t run, the beast’s instincts might take over completely, leaving him vulnerable to an attack. His hesitation could mean the difference between life and death, as I may not be able to control the primal urges surging through me. Every second he remains there, frozen, brings him closer to a fate neither of us wants to imagine. My teeth elongate, fur covering my body as I will my body to not start snapping and popping. If I
complete the shift, I’m not sure I can reverse it until the moon ‘drops.
“Bree?” Max whispers as a howl pierces the night–one that doesn’t belong to me. Others are near; I can smell them so strongly now. They want to hunt; they want to chase. Shoving Max, he stumbles out of the treeline when I notice the river; I know it runs at the back of the castle grounds, and hope flares in my chest.
