Dual POV: Blake & Senti
Blake-POV
Vale was colder now.
The kind of cold that didn't come from the air — the kind that came from waiting too long for something to change.
The shop had gone quiet again. Renard was gone for the week, and I was left to close up alone. I didn't mind. Silence was easy company.
On nights like this, I liked to walk the main square before heading home. The streetlamps cast pale halos over cobblestone, and the fountains caught the moonlight like glass.
It almost looked peaceful.
Almost.
A poster drifted across the street, caught by the wind. I caught it before it hit the gutter.
Beacon Academy: New Semester — Enrollment Finalized.
The ink smudged against my fingers.
One year.
Maybe less.
That small hope from before hadn't faded — it had grown. It wasn't a plan yet, but it was something to hold on to.
The Fang was still out there, I knew that. They always would be.
But maybe it was finally time to stop letting the past decide what I did next.
I turned into the market district — quiet now, empty stalls covered by canvas sheets. A few lanterns still burned, painting the walls in soft amber.
Something in the air felt… different.
Not dangerous, just sharp.
Like being watched.
I slowed my steps.
"Old habits," I whispered to myself, shaking my head. "No one's chasing you anymore."
But when I looked across the square, I saw movement — a flicker of silver in the crowd.
For a heartbeat, I froze.
Wolf ears.
A tail, faint in the lamplight.
Senti?
I blinked — and she was gone, slipping between the alleys before I could breathe her name.
Senti-POV
The square smelled like burnt Dust and perfume — a mix that never meant anything good.
I stayed to the edges, under the overhangs where the lamps didn't reach. The city had learned to watch for wolves, and I'd learned how not to leave tracks.
Tonight wasn't a hunt. It was habit.
Atlas had started reinforcing the docks again, and the Fang was restless — small cells testing Vale's patrol routes. I'd already intercepted two shipments this week. One more, and they'd start hunting the hunter.
I didn't mind.
I'd heard a whisper earlier in the day — a Fang messenger spotted near the main square. So I came.
No one was here now, just the faint hum of vending machines and the sound of shoes on stone.
Then I saw her.
Black hair, golden eyes, moving like she still didn't trust the ground she walked on.
Blake.
She was different now — older, quieter. The defiance was still there, but it sat deeper, tempered by guilt and something else.
She stopped to pick up a poster. The wind lifted her coat, and for a moment, I could see the scar on her wrist — the one from the train raid.
I stayed in the shadow of the awning.
Close enough to hear her voice when she spoke softly.
"No one's chasing you anymore."
Not true, I thought. You just don't see them.
Logic murmured: Don't let her see you.
Charm whispered: She's looking for something.
Cruelty hissed: You could tell her everything.
Joy said, She's alive. That's enough.
I took one step forward.
She turned.
Her eyes met mine for the briefest moment — gold and red, the same colors that had burned through the smoke a lifetime ago.
Recognition flickered. Not full, just instinct.
Then the wind shifted, and she blinked.
By the time she looked again, I was gone.
Blake-POV
The alley was empty. Only the faint scent of oil and steel hung in the air.
I told myself I imagined it — the red eyes, the wolf ears, the flick of a tail.
But my heart wouldn't believe me.
Senti-POV
From the rooftop, I watched her walk away.
The lamplight followed her until she disappeared into the next street.
"She's still chasing peace," I said quietly.
Logic answered, And you're still chasing ghosts.
I smiled faintly. "Maybe that's the same thing."
The voices quieted. The city didn't.
Later that night, I found a discarded Beacon flyer stuck to a drainpipe. Same design. Same words.
I tucked it into my coat.
Not for me.
For her.
Because one day soon, she'd follow that light to Beacon.
And I'd stay here — in the shadows, where the world still needed a wolf.