Astra

Pain is the first thing I feel. A dull, throbbing ache at the base of my skull, radiating outward like my brain is too big for my skull. My limbs are sluggish, my breath slow and uneven, like I am coming up from the bottom of an ocean.

I am lying on something cold. Hard. The smell of antiseptic burns the inside of my nose, mixing with the faint metallic scent of blood.

My blood.

I force my eyes open.

Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, their glow sharp and sterile. The ceiling is concrete, cracks spiderwebbing through it like veins. The air is stale, thick with the kind of silence that only exists in places built for suffering.

Not the cell from before.

A lab.

I try to move, but my wrists do not obey. Pressure. Restraints. A thick band of steel clamps me down against a metal table. Panic flares in my chest, raw and animalistic, but I push it down.

Breathe. Assess. Do not react until you know what you are dealing with.

I turn my head slightly. The movement makes my skull scream, but I grit my teeth and take in my surroundings. The room is small, clinical, walls lined with cabinets and trays of surgical tools. A workstation sits against the far wall, a screen glowing with unreadable data.

Then I see her.

A woman stands at the edge of the room, dressed in a fitted white coat, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She is older, maybe late forties, with sharp cheekbones and dark eyes that flick over me with cold interest. Her hair is pulled back into a severe bun, not a single strand out of place.

She does not look like a guard. She does not move like a soldier.

She moves like a scientist.

I hate her instantly.

Her gaze meets mine, and the corner of her mouth lifts slightly, like she is amused. "You are awake earlier than expected."

I swallow back the taste of blood. My throat is dry, rough, like I have been breathing in smoke. "Lucky me."

She steps closer, heels clicking against the tile. "Not luck. Resilience." She tilts her head, studying me like I am a particularly interesting test subject. "The sedative should have kept you under for another few hours. You burned through it faster than most."

I say nothing.

She moves to the workstation, pressing a few keys. "That confirms the theory."

I flex my fingers. The restraints hold firm, but I can still move my hands. Not completely immobilized. They do not see me as an immediate threat.

That is a mistake.

She turns back to me. "Do you know what you are?"

The question is casual, like she is asking my blood type or my favorite color. But I feel the weight behind it, the test in her tone.

I hold her gaze. "I am a werewolf."

Her smile is slow. Pleased. "No," she says softly. "You are not."

My pulse stutters.

I do not let it show.

She watches me for a long moment, then exhales, like she has already grown bored of the conversation. "You have been very difficult to track down, Astra Nyx. We had almost given up on finding you."

I keep my expression blank, but my mind races.

They were looking for me.

Not just any rogue. Not just another stray wolf to throw into their little game.

Me. Specifically.

I swallow. "Why?"

The woman picks up a clipboard, flipping through the pages. "You are different. Unique. And we study things that do not fit the mold." She looks at me over the rim of her glasses. "You have felt it, haven't you? The way your body does not respond like the others. The way your wolf resists you. The way shifting feels like a battle instead of instinct."

Cold dread slithers through my stomach.

She knows.

She knows something I do not.

I set my jaw. "I am not a lab rat."

She lets out a soft laugh. "You are an anomaly. And anomalies are valuable."

The way she says it makes my skin crawl.

I pull against the restraints, testing their strength. "If I am so valuable, you might want to rethink chaining me to a table."

She watches me struggle, her expression unreadable. "You do not know what you are capable of yet. But you will."

There is something in her voice—something certain.

I go still. "What did you do to me?"

She does not answer. Instead, she turns and picks up a small vial from a tray, holding it up to the light. The liquid inside shimmers faintly, an unnatural color shifting between silver and deep crimson.

I do not know what it is, but my body reacts before my mind catches up.

A sharp, instinctual wrong.

My heartbeat slams into my ribs.

She notices. Smiles. "Fascinating."

I try to keep my voice even. "What is that?"

She does not answer. She just watches me.

And that is when I realize—

This is not just about studying me.

This is a test.

I am the experiment.

I feel something sharp press against my skin—something cold, metallic. A needle.

Adrenaline surges through me, wild and desperate, but before I can react—

Pain explodes in my veins.

Not like silver. Not like anything I have ever felt before.

This is something else. Something worse.

It is fire and ice all at once, twisting through my blood, setting every nerve in my body on fire.

I arch against the restraints, a strangled sound ripping from my throat. My vision fractures, the edges of the room splitting apart. My body is not my own. It is too much. Too fast.

Then, beneath it all—

Something moves inside me.

Not my wolf. Not my instincts.

Something deeper.

Something ancient.

I hear it before I feel it. A low, rumbling growl that is not coming from me—but from inside me.

The woman takes a step back, her eyes widening for the first time.

And I realize—

She is afraid.

Then the world snaps white.

The pain is unbearable. It rips through me, tearing, splitting, unraveling every part of me that makes sense. It is fire and ice. It is wrong.

I cannot breathe. I cannot think.

I am coming apart.

My veins are burning. My bones are shifting, not in the natural way of a wolf, but in something unnatural, something foreign, something other. My body does not know what it is becoming, but neither do I.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but the brightness is inside me now, not just around me. It pulses under my skin, thick and suffocating, pressing at the edges of my consciousness like something is trying to force its way out.

I hear a voice.

Not mine. Not my wolf.

Something older.

"Wake up."

The words vibrate through my skull, thick with power, with something ancient, something primal.

I want to fight it. I want to scream. But I cannot do anything except burn.

Then—the restraints snap.

Not one at a time. Not from any effort of my own.

They just shatter.

The steel breaks apart like brittle glass, the sound of metal twisting and warping echoing through the sterile lab. My body jerks forward, no longer pinned down, but I barely register it.

I cannot see. My vision is nothing but white-hot light.

I feel before I hear—the sharp pulse of movement, the shift of air, the scientist stumbling back.

I smell her fear.

Then, clarity hits.

I collapse forward onto my hands and knees, gasping like I have just been ripped from drowning. My body is my own again, but it is not normal. My muscles vibrate with something I do not understand, my skin too tight, my breath too sharp.

Something just changed.

The scientist stares at me from across the room. I hear the slight tremble in her breath before she controls it.

Her voice is calmer than I expect when she speaks. "There it is."

I lift my head. My hair has fallen loose around my face, sticking to my skin, damp with sweat. The room is destroyed—cracks in the floor, instruments shattered, the walls dented outward from some unseen force.

Me.

I did that.

I do not understand how.

My chest rises and falls in uneven bursts, my body still trembling, but I force myself to my feet.

The scientist watches with that same calculating interest. Like she just won something.

I take a step forward. My legs feel wrong, lighter than they should, like the weight of my body has shifted. My heart slams against my ribs.

She is not afraid of me.

That means she thinks she is still in control.

I want to prove her wrong.

I lunge.

Or I try.

The second I move, something snaps against my skin—a force, invisible but powerful, restraining me.

I choke on my breath as I slam back down onto my knees, a crushing pressure locking my limbs in place.

The scientist sighs. "Predictable."

I grind my teeth, trying to move, but it is like my own body is working against me. My muscles convulse, my vision flickering, white light creeping at the edges of my sight again.

No. No, not again.

I dig my nails into the floor, forcing myself to breathe, forcing whatever this is back down.

The scientist tilts her head. "You are going to be a difficult one."

I glare at her. "Let me go."

She almost laughs. "That is not how this works."

A loud beep sounds from the wall. A comms system. A male voice crackles through the speaker. "Subject is active. Initiate transfer."

My stomach twists.

The scientist smiles. "You are going to see your friends again."

A door hisses open.

Two men step in, dressed in black tactical gear, carrying silver restraints.

Panic surges through me, but I force it down.

Think. Watch. Wait.

They reach for me, and I do not fight.

Not yet.

Because whatever is happening to me—whatever this is—I need to understand it.

And to do that, I need to stay alive.

So I let them take me.