My hands wouldn't stop shaking. It took three tries just to get my keys into the lock, the metal jangling against the door like it was mocking me. When I finally shoved my way inside, the apartment hit me with that familiar, depressing smell—stale coffee and laundry I'd forgotten to move to the dryer. It was the scent of a life I was failing at.
I stood in the kitchen, staring at the linoleum floor. My eyes immediately went to the counter, landing on the small mountain of past-due notices. Those bold red numbers on the electric bill felt like they were screaming at me. Beside them, my phone sat plugged into a charger with a frayed cord, buzzing every few minutes. Probably my sister asking for money, or a collector calling for a payment I didn't have. I didn't touch it.
On a chipped plate sat a half-eaten sandwich I'd made hours ago. The bread was starting to curl at the edges, totally unappetizing. I'd meant to eat, to sit on my couch and watch some trashy reality TV until my brain went numb. But then the "pull" started. It wasn't a thought or a feeling; it was like a physical hook in my chest, dragging me toward the door.
Outside, the snow was coming down hard. It looked pretty under the orange streetlights, but I barely noticed. I was too busy trying to figure out why my legs were moving toward the industrial district. Every step away from my building felt like a mistake, but stopping felt impossible. Like trying to hold back the tide.
I ended up in an alleyway—a narrow, disgusting gap between two brick warehouses. It smelled like wet dogs, rusted iron, and something sharp. Something that smelled like a hospital floor.
Then I saw him. Or what was left of him.
My breath hitched, freezing in a cloud of white mist. A man was slumped against a dumpster, his body twisted in a way that made my own joints ache just looking at him. His eyes were wide open, reflecting the moon with this weird, silver shimmer that made my stomach do a slow roll. His chest… God, his chest had been opened up. It wasn't messy, though. No jagged teeth marks or claw slashes. It looked clean. Like someone had done it on purpose.
A chill ran down my spine, and it wasn't because of the wind.
"Human."
The voice didn't come from the air. It felt like it dropped straight into my skull. It was low, smooth, and dangerous—the kind of voice that makes you want to run and stay at the same time.
I froze. I couldn't even bring myself to blink.
From the shadows at the end of the alley, a guy stepped out. He didn't just walk; he moved like a cat, totally silent. He was tall, wearing dark clothes that seemed to swallow the light. When he finally hit the moonlight, I saw his eyes. They weren't brown or blue; they were molten silver. His skin was so pale he almost looked like he was made of marble. Just being near him felt like standing under a heavy weight.
"You shouldn't be here," he said. His voice was closer now, vibrating in my chest.
"I… I don't know why I am," I managed to choke out. My voice sounded tiny. Pathetic.
He tilted his head, watching me like I was some kind of interesting bug. "The moon chose. That's all you need to get through your head for now."
"The moon?" I felt like there was a wire tightening around my ribs. "Look, I'm just a librarian. I have bills to pay. I'm just… I'm normal."
His gaze narrowed, cutting through my nonsense. "You aren't. Not anymore."
That hit me harder than a physical punch. I thought about my life—the smell of old books at work, my mom's laugh, the way rain smells on hot pavement. Was all of that just… gone? Could one night in a trash-filled alley erase twenty-two years of being a person? I felt a wave of nausea hit me.
I started to shake again. Panic was clawing at my throat, telling me to bolt, to run back to my messy apartment and lock the door. I tried to move my legs, but they felt like lead. My nails dug into my palms so hard I felt the skin break.
I'm human. This isn't happening. I'm human, I told myself.
And then, the growl started.
It didn't come from the shadows. It came from inside me. It was a deep, vibrating sound that felt like it was coming from my bones. I slammed my hands against my chest, trying to quiet it, but I couldn't. My blood felt like it had turned into boiling water. My heart was thumping so loud I couldn't hear the wind anymore. The shadows around me started to pulse and stretch, making my head swim.
The guy stepped closer. He looked totally bored, like he was just waiting for me to finish a tantrum. "Don't run. Not yet. You need to see this."
Something moved behind the dead guy. My stomach dropped. A shape slinked into the light—grey fur, matted and gross. Its teeth were huge, dripping with something I didn't want to think about. When it looked at me, I saw myself in its eyes. I looked terrified. I looked like lunch.
I wanted to scream, but my throat felt like it was on fire. That primal part of me—the part that was currently melting my brain—told me to stand my ground.
The guy—Kael, I'd later learn—didn't help. He just watched.
The growl happened again, louder this time. The grey shape surged forward, its claws scraping against the brick with a sound that made my teeth ache. It smelled like rot and hunger.
Kael moved closer, his hand brushing mine. The spark was like an electric shock, making me gasp. "This is your first test," he whispered.
Then, my world literally broke apart.
My fingers stretched, the skin feeling like it was going to tear. I heard my joints pop—the sound of dry branches snapping. My nails turned thick and sharp, turning into something lethal. My bones cracked and shifted in my hands and feet. It was the worst pain I'd ever felt, a white-hot agony that forced a sound out of my throat. It wasn't a scream. It was a roar.
The world lost all its color. Everything turned into shades of silver and black. I could see every individual hair on the beast's neck. I could hear its heart beating.
The creature lunged.
It was a blur of teeth and fur coming straight for my throat. But I didn't feel like a victim anymore. A weird, dark thrill shot through me. I can do this.
I stepped forward, my new claws flexing. I was terrified, yeah, but I was also hungry. And pissed off. I didn't run. I met it halfway.
Kael didn't move an inch. He just watched with this tiny, approving look in his eyes as I dived out of the way of the first strike. I wasn't a librarian anymore. I wasn't human. I was something else.
The beast paused, looking confused. It realized it wasn't hunting a girl anymore. Kael stepped over the body on the ground, his shadow falling over me like a blanket.
"That was the easy part, Elara," he said, his voice a low vibration against my skin. "Now, we see if the Pack lets you live through the night."