Chapter 8: Moonlight

The moon rose slow that night.

No clouds. No excuses.

It climbed over the treetops like it had always belonged there, brushing the forest in silver and shadow. Cold light spilled through the branches, softening bark and dirt and broken leaves. It lit the edges of the world just enough to remind her what was coming.

Lena sat on the hardwood floor of her flat, spine pressed against the wall. Her hands were flat against the boards, fingers splayed. The room was stripped down—bare walls, no mirrors, no clutter. Just her, a candle flickering in the corner, and the hum under her skin getting louder by the second.

Her body knew before she did.

That ache in her joints. The tightness along her spine. The way her ribs felt like they were bracing for something. It had been weeks—longer than she should've waited. She'd thought maybe she could ride this cycle out, stay inside her skin, drink tea, pretend to be normal for a little while longer.

But the moon didn't ask for permission.

And it never took no for an answer.

She got to her feet and moved through the quiet apartment, her steps slow, measured. She didn't bother with shoes. The floor was cold, but it didn't matter. She opened the back door, stepped out onto the stone threshold, and looked toward the woods behind her building. Pines leaning in close, like they knew her. Like they remembered.

The scar along her side throbbed.

She hissed under her breath and shut her eyes.

It was starting.

She stripped down fast. Not graceful. Not ritualistic. Just practical—yanking fabric from her body like it didn't belong. Shirt over her head, pants kicked aside, everything sharp and hurried. Her breath hitched in her throat. Muscles trembled. Every part of her was shouting for release.

And still, she held it in. Just a few seconds longer. Just long enough to make it to the trees.

She walked barefoot into the forest.

The ground was damp. The wind cut across her skin. She didn't flinch.

Then, finally—she let go.

The change hit her like it always did—fast, brutal, honest.

No magic glow. No soft fade. It hurt.

Bones cracked. Ribs shifted. Her fingers bent back on themselves before stretching into claws. The skin along her back split in flashes as fur pushed through. Her jaw lengthened, splitting wide, reshaping. She dropped to all fours halfway through, breath coming out in short, broken sounds.

And when it was over—The wolf stood in her place.

She was taller now. Heavier in the chest. Jet black from head to tail, the kind of dark that swallowed the light around it. Her eyes glinted gold in the moonlight. Her ears twitched, alert. Her paws moved soundlessly through the brush.

She didn't hesitate.

She ran.

Through the trees, fast and low. Darting around trunks, skimming through underbrush. The forest opened for her. Welcomed her. This part—this she loved. The air in her lungs, sharp and cold. The ground under her feet, real and steady. No walls. No masks. Just her. Her real self.

She wasn't running from anything tonight.

She was circling him.

Eliot.

His name sparked in her like a match. Her pace quickened. She didn't know when it had started—when his scent, his voice, the curve of his mouth had crept under her skin. But it was there now, caught in her like a hook.

She hadn't touched him.

Not really.

But she wanted to.

She wanted to press her nose to the collar of his coat. Wanted to feel his heartbeat through the pads of her paws. Wanted to know what he smelled like when he was sleeping. If he twitched in his dreams. If he said names out loud.

She wanted to protect him.

She wanted to mark him.

Not violently. Not possessively.

Just… so the world knew he wasn't a thing to be claimed.

She ran harder.

The trees thinned as she climbed the ridge. From the top, the city spread out in soft yellows and white. Not harsh. Not alive. Just quiet, like it was holding its breath.

She sat.

Watched.

Below, headlights crawled up a familiar road. She knew which route he took. Which side of the street he preferred. The way he paused in the bookstore window, even if he didn't go in.

She knew too much.

But she wasn't going to him. Not tonight.

She wasn't here to scare him.

She just needed to be near. It helped. The ache behind her ribs—constant, humming—eased when she got close.

The scar on her side tugged again.

She ignored it.

She stayed until the sky began to pale. Until the light broke low over the edge of the forest, soft and pink, not yet warm. Then she turned and walked back into the trees.

The shift back was slower.

Harder.

Her limbs ached. Her bones resisted. The transformation left her on her side in the bathroom, half-curled, skin covered in sweat, fingers digging into the tile. Her breath came in shudders. The scar on her ribs split a little, just enough to sting.

She lay there for a while.

Didn't move.

Didn't cry.

But it was close.

Later, wrapped in cotton and still damp from the shower, she sat at her desk. The apartment smelled like earth and soap. Wind slipped in through the cracked window, carrying pine and something that felt like home.

The candle on the sill had burned low, wax pooling in the dish. She let it be.

She opened her laptop.

Not to check her email.

Not to look at Eliot's texts—though her fingers hovered near that tab.

She opened a search engine.

She typed his name.

Not because she didn't already know it. Not because she hadn't memorized the way he spelled it, the way he signed it, the way he paused before he hit send.

She wanted to know more.

Not what he did for work. She'd seen that. Not where he lived. She'd walked past it, carefully, unseen.

She wanted his roots.

Where he was from. What kind of family he came from. If he had siblings. What his mother's voice sounded like. What he was like as a boy. Who hurt him. Who didn't. What kind of love he'd known before now—if any.

It wasn't strategy.

It wasn't safety.

It was obsession.

She called it protection, told herself she just wanted to be prepared. But it wasn't true.

She was looking because she cared.

And for her, caring was always the edge of something dangerous.