Page 17

ALICE

“ J ason?”

My voice cuts through the woods, small and shaky, nearly drowned out by the roar of the wind through the trees. I clutch the flashlight like it’s a lifeline, its beam bouncing wildly across the muddy trail as I stumble through the brush.

I heard him yelling.

I didn’t think—I just ran toward it.

And now here I am, breathless, heart pounding like a drumline in my chest. The storm is breaking open above me, and I can feel it in my bones.

Then I see him.

He’s on his knees, panting, body trembling like he’s struggling to hold himself together with sheer will.

“Jason?” I whisper again.

He lifts his head.

And it’s not his eyes I see.

Not really.

They glow gold, burning through the shadows.

He stares at me.

Not moving.

Not speaking.

I take a step closer.

And that’s when he shouts— “You shouldn’t be here.”

The words crack like lightning.

I freeze. “What’s happening?”

“Please,” he rasps. “Don’t.”

But it’s too late.

I see it. All of it.

His body convulses—violently. His back arches, fingers clawing at the dirt as his skin ripples, stretches, shifts.

His hands—no, paws —lengthen, bones twisting with sickening pops. His face contorts, jaw snapping forward, teeth elongating into fangs, ears pulling back, sharpening.

It’s horrifying.

And mesmerizing.

He gasps, a broken, inhuman sound that turns into a growl.

Fur erupts across his arms, shoulders, chest.

His shirt tears apart, useless against the beast blooming out of him.

And still I don’t move.

Because under the growl, under the horror, under all that monster, it’s him.

It’s still Jason.

I can feel it.

He stumbles to all fours, breath steaming in the air, snarling, barely able to hold still.

But he looks at me.

Right at me.

His eyes are the same.

Wild. Bright. His.

And I whisper, “Can you understand me?”

He doesn't nod.

But he doesn't bolt either.

“I—I heard you yelling. Zak said Mira’s missing. I came to help.”

Jason huffs. A low, sharp breath. He’s obviously holding something back.

I keep talking, softly, like I’m calming a scared animal. “She can’t walk well outside water. You know that. You know where she might go.”

He growls again—softer this time.

His paws dig into the dirt.

“Jason…” I whisper, voice trembling. “Can you find her?”

He looks at me for one long second.

And then he nods.

Just once.

Then he bolts into the trees—fluid, fast, more shadow than solid.

And I stand there in the storm-washed woods, blinking back tears I don’t even understand.

Because I just watched the boy I think I might be falling for tear himself in two.

And all I could think was—I’m not scared of you.

Not even a little.

I should stay put.

That’s what any reasonable person would do after watching a man become a wolf in front of them.

But I’m not reasonable.

Not when it comes to him.

I take off after him, flashlight beam bouncing off tree trunks and glinting off slick leaves. I follow the deep pawprints he leaves in the soft earth, the way they scatter through the underbrush like a trail laid just for me.

The woods are alive with stormlight and wind and the pounding of my heart.

And somewhere in all of it—Jason.

He doesn’t run in a straight line.

He weaves. Stops. Circles back.

Tracking.

He’s in full control, but there’s nothing human about the way he moves now. It’s wild. Fluid. Animal.

But not feral.

Not dangerous.

I can see the care in the way he navigates the terrain. The purpose in every low snarl, every twitch of his ears.

And watching him…

It terrifies me.

But it also sparks something else.

Something just as fierce.

He’s beautiful like this.

Not in the way I thought beauty worked—not clean lines and tidy features. No, Jason’s beauty now is in the way he commands the woods, the way he bends but never breaks under the weight of what he is.

The storm flashes again, and for a split second, I see his silhouette ahead of me—ears raised, fur slick with rain, head high as he scans the clearing.

I duck behind a tree, breath stuck in my throat.

Because for that moment, he doesn’t look like a boy I kissed under stars.

He looks like something out of legend.

Something powerful.

And he’s mine.

My heart stutters at the thought. At the truth of it.

Because I can’t run anymore—not from him, not from this.

Not even from myself.

Jason pauses up ahead, hackles raised.

Then I see it—movement, high up in the limbs of a twisted old birch.

“Mira?” I breathe.

A small shape clings to the crook between two branches—mud-streaked, shivering, one boot missing, her hair plastered to her cheeks with rain.

“Mira! It’s me!” I shout gently. “It’s Alice, sweetie. You’re okay.”

Her voice wobbles. “I saw... something. Something big. ”

Jason takes a step forward, slowly, silently.

Mira lets out a terrified squeak and scrambles higher, limbs shaking.

“Shhh, it’s okay!” I rush beneath the tree and drop my flashlight, holding up both hands. “It’s just Jason. He’s here to help. I promise .”

She stares down at me, wide-eyed. “He’s a wolf. ”

I nod, my voice soft but steady. “Yeah. But he’s still Jason. He wouldn’t hurt you. Not ever.”

Behind me, Jason takes one deliberate step back, head lowered, body still.

I glance at him. “Sit.”

He obeys, tail sweeping the forest floor, ears twitching in the rain.

Mira hesitates.

Slowly, she begins to climb down, one trembling limb at a time.

When she’s close enough, I reach up, pull her gently into my arms. She curls against me, soaked and sniffling.

“You came,” she whispers.

“Of course I did.”

Jason rises and steps closer. Mira stiffens—but doesn’t scream.

Instead, she looks down at him.

Then at me.

“You trust him?” she asks.

“With everything,” I say.

Mira nods once. Tiny. Resolute.

“Okay.”

The three of us push back through the woods, me half-carrying Mira, Jason flanking us like a silent shadow.

By the time we reach the edge of camp, the rain is a full-on deluge, soaking through my jacket, Mira’s curls, even Jason’s thick fur.

Julie and Torack are at the edge of the mess hall porch, headlamps flashing, ponchos flapping in the wind. A cluster of staff huddles around them, maps in hand, shovels ready.

Julie spots us first.

“Oh my god! ”

She runs to us, ripping off her hood. “You found her!”

“She’s okay,” I say, handing Mira over into her arms. “Just scared. Twisted ankle, maybe.”

Torack steps up, gaze shifting from Mira to me to the wolf at my side.

And for a moment, nobody says anything.

Then Jason lets out a low, tired huff and steps back into the trees.

Disappearing before anyone else can get a closer look.

Julie squeezes my arm. “You good?”

I nod.

Even though my whole world just cracked wide open.

And I’m not sure it’ll ever fit back together the same way again.