The air in the cabin shifted from the warmth of a shared secret to the static charge of an approaching storm. Reid stood by the window, his frame blocking out the meager morning light. He wasn't looking at the trees; he was listening to them. His head tilted at an angle no human neck should comfortably hold, his nostrils flaring as he caught a scent on the wind that Clara couldn't perceive.
"Reid, you're shaking," Clara said, reaching out to steady him.
He flinched away, his voice a low warning. "Don't. My skin… it's too loud right now. Everything is too loud."
The howl came again, closer this time. It wasn't the mournful cry of a lonely animal. It was a sharp, mocking sound, ending in a series of short, rhythmic barks that sounded disturbingly like laughter.
"Is that Silas?" Clara whispered, the name feeling heavy on her tongue.
"Silas doesn't believe in fences," Reid said, his eyes scanning the perimeter. "He thinks the world belongs to the things with the sharpest teeth. He's been tracking me since I left the garage this morning. He knows I'm here. He knows you're here."
Reid turned to her, and for a second, the mask of the stoic ranger crumbled. He looked terrified—not for himself, but of the collision about to happen in her living room.
"Clara, go to the cellar. It's reinforced concrete, built back when your father was paranoid about the winter storms. Go now."
"I'm not leaving you to handle your brother alone if he's as dangerous as you say," she countered, her stubbornness rising like a tide.
"You don't understand," Reid growled, his voice vibrating in his throat. "Silas isn't a man who has a 'condition.' Silas is a wolf who happens to wear a man's skin when it suits him. He hasn't felt a human emotion since we were boys."
A heavy thud shook the porch. The cabin's front door didn't just open; it groaned as the lock was bypassed with a terrifying, brute strength.
A man stepped into the foyer. He looked like a distorted mirror image of Reid. Where Reid was solid and controlled, this man was lean and wiry, vibrating with a manic, jagged energy. His hair was longer, matted with twigs and dried mud, and his eyes—even in the daylight—were a constant, shimmering gold.
"Reidie," the man said, his voice a melodic, terrifying lilt. "You smell like soap. And fear. Mostly soap."
"Get out, Silas," Reid said, stepping between the newcomer and Clara. His shoulders hunched, his hands curling into fists that were already beginning to grow thick, dark hair at the knuckles.
Silas ignored him, his gaze sliding past Reid to lock onto Clara. He inhaled deeply, his chest expanding until his shirt buttons strained. "So, this is the book-fixer. The one who thinks she can glue your soul back together."
"She has nothing to do with us," Reid said, his voice dropping into a register that was more growl than speech.
Silas took a step forward, his movements liquid and predatory. He didn't walk; he prowled. "Everything has to do with us, brother. You're spending too much time playing human. You're forgetting the hunger. You're forgetting that the moon doesn't care about first-aid kits and pretty city girls."
Silas reached out a hand toward a stack of Clara's father's old journals on the table. With a casual, lightning-fast flick of his wrist, he shredded the top leather cover with a single claw that extended and retracted in the blink of an eye.
"Stop it!" Clara shouted, stepping out from behind Reid.
Both men froze. Silas looked at her with a glimmer of genuine interest, while Reid looked at her with pure horror.
"Clara, get back," Reid hissed.
"No," she said, her voice trembling but clear. She looked Silas in his golden eyes. "You're in my house. You're destroying my things. If you have a problem with your brother, take it outside, but don't you dare touch another one of these books."
Silas tilted his head, a predatory grin spreading across his face. "She has teeth. I like that. Is that why you're protecting her, Reid? Or are you just waiting for the next full moon so you can be the one to tear her apart?"
Reid's roar was sudden and deafening. He lunged at Silas, slamming him into the doorframe. The wood splintered with a sickening crack. The two men or the two things they were becoming tumbled out onto the porch in a blur of gray flannel and dark fur.
Clara ran to the doorway, her heart hammering against her ribs. In the yard, the fight was a terrifying display of physics. They weren't boxing; they were tearing at each other. Reid was larger, using his weight to pin Silas, but Silas was faster, his fingers like hooks, drawing red lines across Reid's chest.
"Go back to the ridge!" Reid screamed, his voice breaking into a literal howl. "She is off-limits! Do you hear me?"
Silas kneed Reid in the stomach and flipped over him, landing on all fours. He looked like a man, but his posture was entirely lupine. He licked a streak of Reid's blood from his lip and spat.
"You're soft, Reid. You're living in a dream. One day soon, you're going to wake up, and you're going to be covered in her blood, and you'll realize I was the only one who ever told you the truth."
With a final, chilling laugh, Silas turned and sprinted toward the woods. He didn't run like a human; he dropped to his hands and feet, his body elongating, his clothes seemingly melting into a coat of dark, matted fur. Within seconds, he was gone, leaving nothing but the sound of snapping branches in his wake.
Reid stayed on his knees in the dirt, his head hanging low. He was gasping for air, his back heaving. The wounds on his chest were already beginning to steam in the cold air as they started the agonizing process of closing.
Clara walked out onto the porch, her legs feeling like water. She descended the steps and knelt in the grass beside him.
"Reid?" she whispered.
He didn't look up. "He's right, Clara."
"He's a monster, Reid. He isn't right about anything."
"He's right about the hunger," Reid said, finally lifting his head. His face was halfway between man and beast his brow heavy, his teeth lengthened, his eyes glowing with an unbearable light. "It's getting harder to remember why I try to be good. Every time I'm near you, the human part of me wants to hold you. But the other part… the part that Silas lives in… it just wants to claim you."
He reached out, his hand shaking, and touched the hem of her skirt. He didn't look at her face; he seemed ashamed to even exist in her presence.
"You should have let me stay in the dark, Clara. It's safer there."
Clara reached down and took his clawed hand in hers, pressing his palm flat against her heart so he could feel the steady, human rhythm.
"I don't want safe," she said, her voice a fierce vow. "I want you. All of you. Even the parts that howl."
Reid let out a broken sob, the sound of a man drowning in his own skin, and collapsed against her. As the mist curled around them, Clara held the monster, wondering if love was enough to keep the moon at bay.