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Cameron

I run, dammit.

The second I leave her farmhouse, I shift mid-stride, my body rippling and twisting as the bear takes over. The burn of the transformation is familiar, almost comforting, but tonight it feels different. Tonight, it feels like punishment.

My paws slam against the earth as I tear through the woods, the cool night air rushing past me. The trees blur, dark shapes streaking by, but I can’t stop. I can’t think. If I think, I’ll break.

Her scent clings to me, sweet and maddening, a mix of honey and wildflowers that I can’t escape no matter how far I run. It’s in my lungs, in my blood, and every time I breathe, it pulls me back to her.

To her touch.

To her voice.

To the way she looked at me, soft and open, like I was something good. Like I was someone worth loving.

I let out a roar, the sound echoing through the forest, and slam my claws into a tree. The bark splinters beneath the force, and chunks of wood rain down around me.

I shouldn’t have let it happen.

But God, I wanted her.

I wanted her in a way that scared me, in a way that made my bear claw at me, desperate to claim her, to mark her as ours. And for one perfect, terrifying night, I let myself have her.

And now I’m paying the price.

The woods are quieter now, the sounds of the night muted as I slow to a stop near the river. The water rushes over the rocks, cool and steady, and I lower myself to the ground, the bear still clinging to my skin.

The guilt is worse in the silence. It gnaws at me, sharp and unforgiving. No matter how hard I try, I can’t shake the image of her lying in bed, her hair spread out across the pillow, her soft, sleepy smile when I kissed her goodbye.

I left her.

I had to.

But even as I tell myself that, I know it’s a lie. I didn’t leave to protect her. I left because I’m a coward.

The bear growls low in my chest, restless and angry, but I ignore it. It doesn’t understand. It doesn’t see the danger the way I do.

Because the truth is, I’m not just risking her heart. I’m risking her life.

Hours later, I’m back at my cabin, pacing the length of the living room like a caged animal. The fire is dying in the hearth, the embers glowing faintly, but I can’t bring myself to care.

My thoughts are a mess, tangled and chaotic, and no matter how hard I try to sort through them, they always lead me back to her.

I don’t know how to do this.

I don’t know how to want her without destroying her.

The bear growls again, louder this time, and I slam my fist against the wall. The sharp pain is a welcome distraction.

“You’re losing it,” I mutter under my breath, dragging a hand through my hair.

The sound of a branch snapping outside pulls me up short, my senses going sharp and focused in an instant. The air shifts, carrying with it a scent that makes my blood run cold.

Not hers.

Something else.

Something wrong.

I’m moving before I even realize it, shifting as I bolt out the door. The bear takes over, its instincts sharper, faster, and I let it guide me, my paws pounding against the earth as I follow the scent.

It’s faint but distinct—wild and feral, tinged with blood and rage.

A rogue.

The realization hits me like a punch to the gut, and I push myself harder, fear clawing at my chest. If a rogue is this close to Hannah’s farm…

I let out a roar, the sound shaking the trees, and the scent shifts, closer now, more deliberate. It’s circling. Stalking.

No.

The farmhouse comes into view, the faint glow of the porch light cutting through the darkness. My heart pounds, the bear’s growl rumbling deep in my chest as I scan the area, every muscle in my body coiled tightly.

And then I see it.

The rogue is massive, its fur matted and dark. Its eyes are wild with madness. It’s crouched near the edge of the garden, its focus locked on the house, and a low, guttural growl escapes me as I charge.

The rogue turns at the last second, its teeth bared, and we collide with a force that shakes the ground. Pain explodes through me as its claws rake across my side, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

Its scent is overpowering, rank and bitter, and the bear in me roars with fury, driving me forward. My claws sink into its shoulder, and it howls, twisting beneath me as it tries to break free.

But I’m stronger.

I’m faster.

And I’ve got something to fight for.

The rogue lashes out again, its claws catching my chest, and I feel the sharp sting of blood, hot and wet against my fur. But the pain only fuels me as I slam it to the ground, my jaws snapping inches from its throat.

It thrashes beneath me, its strength wild and unpredictable, but I hold on, driving it back, away from the house, away from her.

The fight is brutal, a blur of teeth and claws, and by the time the rogue finally goes limp beneath me, my body is screaming in protest, every muscle burning with exhaustion.

I stagger back, my chest heaving, and shift back into my human form, the pain sharper now, more acute. Blood drips from the gashes on my chest and side, staining the grass beneath me, but I don’t care.

Because when I look up, I see her.

Hannah is standing on the porch, her eyes wide with shock and her hands trembling as she clutches the doorframe.

“Cameron?” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

I open my mouth to speak, but the words don’t come.

Her gaze drops to my chest, to the blood, to the torn remnants of my shirt, and then shifts to the rogue’s body lying motionlessly on the ground.

She knows.

She knows what I am.

And for the first time in my life, I don’t feel fear.

I feel shame.

“Hannah,” I say, my voice rough, broken.

She takes a step closer, her eyes searching mine, and I see the questions there, the confusion, the disbelief.

But there’s no fear.

She’s not afraid of me.

I don’t deserve that.

“I’m sorry,” I say, the words choking me, and then I turn and run, the pain in my chest nothing compared to the ache in my heart.

I don’t stop until I’m deep in the woods, the darkness closing in around me, and when I finally collapse to the ground, I let out a roar, the sound raw and broken, filled with everything I can’t say.

Because no matter how much I want her, no matter how much I love her, I know I can never be what she needs.