I didn't know how long I had before they arrived.
Only that they would.
The certainty settled into me like a second heartbeat, steady, unavoidable. Every instinct I didn't recognize yet was screaming the same warning: you are not alone anymore. The walls of my apartment felt thinner, the ceiling too low, the air crowded with unfamiliar awareness.
I locked every door anyway.
It was a useless, human habit, but I clung to it because it was familiar. I dragged the small table in my living room across the floor and wedged it against the front door.
The scrape of wood against tile sounded obscenely loud, and I froze halfway through, listening.
Nothing.
Still, my pulse wouldn't slow.
I moved through the apartment like a ghost, checking windows, pulling curtains tight.
The city outside looked the same as it always had, cars passing, neon signs flickering, people living their lives completely unaware that monsters were real and that one of them was standing barefoot on cold tile, shaking.
By the time I finished, my legs were trembling too badly to hold me. I sank down against the couch and wrapped my arms around myself.
That was when I noticed the bruises were gone.
I stared at my forearms, turning them slowly under the light. The livid purple marks from the fall, the scratches from the pavement has vanished. Even the raw patches on my palms had faded to faint pink lines, like scars remembered rather than injuries earned.
I should have been relieved.
Instead, terror coiled tighter in my chest.
Something else had changed, too. My body felt… wrong.
Not in pain anymore, but stretched, like a bow pulled too tight. Energy buzzed beneath my skin, restless and hungry, making it impossible to sit still. Every sound seemed amplified, the hum of the refrigerator, footsteps in the hallway three floors below, a siren miles away.
I pressed my hands to my ears, gasping.
"Stop," I whispered, though I didn't know what I was asking to stop.
The smell hit me again, stronger this time.
Not blood. Not decay.
People.
But sharper.
Wilder.
Like standing downwind of a storm.
I scrambled to my feet just as a knock sounded at the door.
It wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.
Three slow raps, deliberate and patient.
My heart slammed so hard it made me dizzy. I backed away, shaking my head, every instinct screaming don't open it. The table wedged against the door felt laughably small now, a child's barricade against something ancient.
Another knock.
"You can't hide," a man's voice said through the door.
Deep.
Calm.
Certain.
I swallowed hard. "Go away."
Silence stretched.
Then, almost gently, "You're bleeding fear all over the place."
I clapped a hand over my mouth, horrified. I hadn't made a sound. Hadn't moved. The idea that he could sense what I was feeling made my stomach twist.
"I don't want trouble," I said, hating how small my voice sounded. "I didn't do anything wrong."
A pause.
"You killed one of ours."
The words landed like a blow.
"I…he attacked me," I said quickly. "I didn't know what it was. I didn't know—"
"I know."
The calmness in his voice frightened me more than anger would have. There was no accusation in it, no heat. Just fact.
Another voice joined him then, closer to the door, sharper. Female. "She shouldn't be alive."
My knees threatened to give out.
"There are rules," the woman continued.
"She broke them."
"I didn't know the rules!" I shouted, panic clawing its way up my throat. "I didn't even know you existed!"
"That doesn't change what you are now," the man replied.
The doorknob turned.
I screamed and lunged forward, bracing my weight against the table. The door rattled once, then stopped.
A low chuckle drifted through the wood.
"Easy. If I wanted in, this door wouldn't slow me."
I believed him.
"Please," I whispered. I hated the word the moment it left my mouth, hated how natural it felt. "I'm sick. I don't understand what's happening to me. I just want to be left alone."
Silence again.
Then footsteps. Retreating.
For one fragile second, hope bloomed.
It died when the wall beside my window exploded inward.
Glass shattered across the room as a figure crashed through, rolling to its feet in one smooth, terrifying motion. I shrieked and stumbled backward, tripping over the edge of the rug and slamming into the couch.
She was tall, broad-shouldered, her eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. Her lips pulled back from her teeth as she sniffed the air, gaze locking onto me with open disgust.
"Pathetic," she said.
The front door opened a second later.
The man stepped inside like he belonged there.
He was bigger than her—than anyone I'd ever seen up close. He filled the doorway without trying, dark hair brushing the frame, shoulders stretching the fabric of his coat. His presence pressed down on the room, heavy and unavoidable, like gravity itself had decided to take human shape.
When his eyes met mine, my breath caught.
They were gold.
Not flickering. Not subtle.
Solid, molten gold, sharp with intelligence and something cold beneath it.
I couldn't look away.
He took in the overturned table, the shattered window, my trembling form pressed against the couch. His gaze lingered on my bare feet, my shaking hands, the way my chest rose too fast.
Weak.
I saw the judgment there before he spoke.
"So," he said. "This is her."
The woman snorted. "I don't feel anything special. She smells wrong. Thin."
I hugged myself tighter. "I'm not— I didn't ask for this."
He approached slowly, deliberately. Each step made my heart pound harder. When he stopped in front of me, I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze.
"You survived a kill you shouldn't have," he said. "And the curse took you."
"I don't want it," I said desperately. "Take it back. I'll do anything."
Something flickered across his face then.
Not sympathy. Not anger.
Interest.
"That's not how it works."
The woman crossed her arms. "We should end this now. Before she turns feral."
A growl rippled through the room.
It didn't come from me.
The man didn't look at her when he spoke.
"No."
She stiffened. "Alpha—"
"I said no."
The word carried weight. Power. It pressed against my skull, made my instincts recoil and bow at the same time. I didn't understand it, but my body did. Something inside me wanted to lower my gaze, to submit.
I hated it.
"She's unstable," the woman argued. "And weak."
He finally glanced at her. "I'm aware."
Then he looked back at me.
"Can you stand?"
I nodded quickly, though my legs felt like jelly. I pushed myself upright, swaying.
He caught my elbow before I fell.
The contact sent a jolt through me, heat, awareness, something electric and frightening. I gasped and jerked back, nearly losing my balance again.
His grip tightened, steadying me.
"Easy," he said quietly. "I'm not here to hurt you."
I didn't believe him.
But he didn't let go until I was standing on my own.
"You're coming with us," he said. "You'll be observed. Controlled."
"And if I say no?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.
His gaze sharpened.
"You don't get that choice."
Tears burned at the backs of my eyes, humiliating and unstoppable. "I didn't even get a choice to live," I said.
For a moment, something unreadable crossed his face.
Then it was gone.
"Get dressed," he said. "We leave now."
As they turned away, the weight of what was happening crashed over me. I was being taken. Judged. Owned, in a way I didn't yet have words for.
As I grabbed my jacket with shaking hands, one thought echoed louder than the rest:
I had survived the monster in the forest.
But I wasn't sure I would survive the monsters who had come to claim me.