Emma Sterling runs.
Feet pounding against the worn track, breath in tight, measured bursts—inhale, exhale—like a ritual she’s performed a thousand times. Running is supposed to be the escape. The only place where the world blurs away, where grief and fear can’t reach her. But not today. Not for weeks now.
Mark is gone. Her cousin, her blood - closer than a brother. Disappeared without a trace. Maybe he ran. Maybe he’s dead. Nobody knows, and that’s the part that eats at her. That’s the part that doesn’t let her sleep.
And then - the other thing. The Change.
It came after he vanished, tearing through her like a wildfire. Bones twisting, skin burning, her body breaking itself apart and remaking something new—something older than she could comprehend. Her parents had tried to shield her from it, from all of it. The truth of what they were. What she was. But there’s no hiding from the wolf once it’s awake.
Her focus slips. She stumbles - just a fraction of a second - but the burn hits her lungs like fire, muscles screaming in protest. She’s falling behind. Third place? Fourth? She’ll lose her spot. Track is all she has to hold onto. If she loses that too...
Panic flares, sharp as a knife.
So she reaches. Just a little. Her mother taught her how.
The wolf stirs beneath her skin. A sliver of it—enough to cheat, just a bit. Her nails lengthen, her canines sharpen. Eyes threaten to glow amber under the harsh afternoon sun. She tightens her fists, squints against the light, keeps her teeth clamped down. Hiding it. Containing it.
But the power surges through her veins—hot, primal. She surges forward, passing the others, retaking her position. Third. Safe. Good enough.
Then it hits her.
A scent.
Faint. Familiar. Impossible.
Mark.
The scent clings to tu like smoke on fabric - just a trace, but she knows it as sure as she knows her own blood. Her head snaps to the side, searching for them in the crowd. Just a glance - too quick, too careless.
They saw.
She drops the wolf, fast. Her body normal again. Human. She crosses the line, third place, blending into the background noise—cheers, clapping, the hum of voices. But her heart slams in her chest like a hammer.
Afterward - locker room chatter, towel snaps, congratulations she barely hears. It’s all static.
She finds tu in the parking lot, keys in hand, halfway to their car.
Emma steps forward, her pulse spiking, fear and suspicion tangled in her chest like barbed wire. Her usual quiet restraint is gone - replaced by something sharper. Desperate.
“We need to talk. Now.”
