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SONYA

T he weight of his hand in hers felt like it could anchor her or drown her.

Sonya sat on Landon’s couch, the fire casting warm gold across the room, painting flickers of light across his face—the same face she’d been lying to for weeks.

He didn’t pull away.

Not yet. But she felt it in the way he held his shoulders, the way his fingers were stiff between hers.

He was bracing for something.

And that something was her.

He looked at her like he wanted to believe.

Like he almost did.

But it wasn’t enough.

“But I need to know– What are you, Sonya?”

The question was so simple.

So casual.

It shattered something in her.

She looked away, toward the window, where night pressed against the glass like a living thing.

“You don’t want the truth.”

“I do.”

“You say that now.”

“I mean it.”

She swallowed.

Her throat felt like sandpaper.

“You want my trust?” Landon continued, gently but firmly.

“Then you have to stop running circles around the truth. I can’t keep walking into this blind while you stand behind some wall. You already admitted you were sent to spy on me. That Roman gave you a mission. That I’m some kind of... prophecy puzzle piece.”

She winced.

“I need to know what you are,” he said.

“What Roman is. Why you answer to him.”

“I don’t answer to him,” she said, too quickly.

Landon arched a brow.

She sighed. “I used to.”

“Because he’s what—your boss? Your... ex?”

Sonya flinched.

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“I’m sure it is,” he said, standing and pacing to the fire.

“But you want me to trust you. Hell, I want to trust you. So give me something. Anything.”

She stood slowly.

Her limbs felt heavy, like her bones were coated in lead.

“You ever wonder why I never come to your place after dark unless I know it’s safe?” she asked.

Landon turned toward her, confused.

“Why I dodge certain questions? Why I don’t talk about my family. My life outside of school?”

His brows furrowed.

“Yeah. I figured... I don’t know. Trauma? Privacy?”

She laughed softly, bitterly.

“I wish it were that simple.”

She took a deep breath.

And said it.

“I’m not human, Landon.”

The words hung there.

Suspended. Like dust in the air before it settles.

Landon blinked. “Come again?”

“I’m not human,” she repeated.

“Not fully. I was born into a pack. A wolf shifter pack. Roman is our alpha.”

He stared at her.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t move.

“I know how it sounds,” she rushed.

“But it’s real. You’ve seen things. You know they are out there since the Veil fell. You’ve even felt things. The dreams. The fire. That’s not coincidence. It’s your bloodline waking up. You’re tied to the Veil. Your family—your real family—was something powerful, something ancient. You’re tied to the Grevaris line. The oldest blood. You’re not crazy, Landon. You’re called.”

“And you?” he asked quietly.

“What are you in all this?”

“I was born into the Bloodpine Pack. Everyone of our alphas, including Roman, raised us in structure, tradition, hierarchy. They taught us loyalty was survival. That love was a weakness. Roman is the alpha now and has been for awhile and he believes in these more than others. He’s still stuck in the past. Our whole pack is. We stay hidden knowing that these small communities don’t respond well to change, especially to our kind. Things they don’t understand. And Roman… Well, he sent me to get close to you. To figure out if you were the one from the prophecy. I didn’t expect...” Her voice caught.

“I didn’t expect you to mean anything.”

Landon looked away.

“I didn’t expect to care. ”

“That’s not something you just say, Sonya,” he muttered.

“That’s not a comfort. ”

“I know,” she whispered.

“But it’s the truth.”

He ran a hand through his hair.

“So you’re a werewolf. And Roman’s your... dictator?”

“Alpha,” she corrected, then winced.

“But yeah. Close enough.”

“And what was I to him?”

“A threat. A wild card. A prophecy he couldn’t control. He told me he wanted to expand on your power, claim your right, but it’s to fuel his own agenda somehow. I know it is.”

“And now?”

She hesitated.

“You’re everything, ” she whispered.

His eyes met hers again.

There was something behind them—hurt, yes.

But also that same raw ache she felt in her own chest. The tether.

“You should’ve told me,” he said.

“I was scared.”

“Of me?”

“Of losing you.”

Silence stretched between them again.

The fire crackled behind him.

His eyes never left hers.

“I don’t know what’s real anymore,” he said.

“I feel like I’m waking up in someone else’s life.”

“I’m real,” she said, stepping closer.

“Everything I said to you, felt with you—it’s real. Even if it started with a lie.”

He stayed silent for a moment, making her almost uneasy.

Finally, he said, “Show me.”

Her breath hitched.

“What?”

“Show me. If you’re a shifter... show me. Prove it.”

Sonya’s heart pounded.

Her wolf stirred under her skin.

It was risky. Stupid.

But necessary.

Her heart beat faster.

Her instincts pulled at her, nervous.

But this was the moment.

If she wanted him to believe her—really see her—she couldn’t half it.

“Okay,” she said. “Not in here. Come outside. There’s more room.”

He followed her out the door, the air sharp with pine and the faint scent of smoke from the firepit.

The moon hung heavy above them, veiled behind shifting clouds, and the trees stood sentinel, dark and quiet.

Sonya stepped out into the clearing, a few feet ahead of him.

She turned, her back to the woods, her face glowing faintly in the silver light.

“This is going to feel... different,” she warned softly.

“But it’s still me.”

Landon nodded once.

“I trust you.”

Sonya started to strip off her clothes and Landon’s eyes widened, but turned away with a flush of his cheeks.

She laughed softly at his embarrassment then she closed her eyes.

The shift came in a rush of heat and sensation, bones realigning, limbs shortening and lengthening, fur blooming across her skin like frost on glass.

It always hurt—transformation was never soft—but she embraced it now, let it surge through her like a second heartbeat.

And then she stood there, silent and still, not as Sonya—but as her truest self.

Her wolf form was striking, just like her human one.

Pale white fur that gleamed like moonlight, lean and strong and graceful.

Her eyes glowed the same piercing ice-blue, intelligent and wild, and her posture was alert—but unthreatening.

She stepped forward slowly, watching his face.

Landon didn’t move. Didn’t run.

His lips parted slightly, breath caught somewhere in his chest.

“Holy shit,” he murmured.

“You’re... beautiful.”

Sonya tilted her head, ears twitching.

Gently , she padded toward him.

He held out a hand, cautious but open, and she touched her nose to his palm.

His fingers slid through her fur, warm and reverent, and something in her cracked wide open.

He was shaking.

But not from fear.

From awe.

She shifted back slowly—giving him time to turn away, which he respectfully did—and when she stood human again dressed back into her clothes, barefoot and breathless, she whispered, “That’s what I am.”

He turned to her, eyes glassy.

“You’re not a monster,” he said.

“You’re magic.”

Sonya choked on a laugh.

“Tell that to my pack.”

“I don’t know what this means,” he said.

“Or what I’m supposed to be. But I know I don’t want to lose you.”

Her voice cracked.

“I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“I just wanted to protect you.”

He pulled her into his arms. “Then do it. But not alone.”

And she let herself stay there a little too long.

Because he didn’t just accept her truth.

He chose it.

As they stood there under the trees, the moon casting silver halos across their shadows, Sonya realized something.

For once, the truth hadn’t broken them.

It had set them free.