The wind carried a strange tension that night.
I crouched low behind the rotting fence of John’s backyard, my heart pounding like war drums in my chest. Aira’s modest house was dimly lit from the inside, shadows moving behind the cracked windows. My eyes didn’t waver from the door, especially after Kiani slipped inside with the softest nod to , her little face too bruised for a seven-year-old.
She had done what I asked—gone in to try and speak to her mother. And now I waited, both hopeful and terrified, that Aira would follow her daughter back out. That she would believe . That she’d rember .
But instead, there were screams.
First Kiani’s.
Then Aira’s.
Then... nothing.
I sprang up, vaulting over the fence like a fox leaping from a trap. My boots thudded against the hard-packed soil, each footfall echoing my panic.
I reached the front porch in seconds and kicked the door open.
The scene before stopped my breath in my throat.
Aira lay on the ground, shielding Kiani beneath her, her face streaked with blood. And standing over them—wild-eyed and snarling—was John, holding a rusted shotgun with both hands, his knuckles white. His chest heaved with rage, and his mouth twisted into sothing primal.
"She brought you here, didn’t she?" he barked. "You’re the one who’s been snooping around."
"Let them go," I said, my voice trembling but steady enough. "Back off, John."
He turned toward slowly, his eyes flaring with the violence of a man who thought he owned everything under his roof. "You don’t tell what to do in my house."
Kiani whimpered under Aira, who pressed her lips to her daughter’s hair and whispered sothing I couldn’t hear.
My vision turned red.
"You hurt them," I said quietly. "And now you’re going to regret it."
I didn’t an to shift. I hadn’t planned it. But the wolf within was too furious to stay caged.
My bones cracked first—shoulders, spine, fingers—shifting under my skin. My eyes burned as they glowed amber. My nails lengthened into claws, my teeth sharpened to points. Fur rippled along my arms. The transformation was fast, not complete, but enough.
John took one look at and froze.
"What... what the hell are you?" he whispered, stepping back, shotgun dropping slightly.
I stepped forward.
"Luciana..." Aira’s voice rose shakily, and I turned to her.
Her eyes were wide. Not with horror—but with mory.
"I’ve seen that before," she breathed. "seven years years ago. You—on your fourteenth birthday... you—shifted. I was there."
She touched her temple like the realization gave her a headache. "Nefang said... you were like him."
Then her voice dropped, stunned. "Luciana... my baby?"
My claws retracted slowly. The fire inside dimd enough for to kneel beside her.
"Yes, Mama. It’s ."
Kiani peeked up from her mother’s arms, her little face full of confusion and awe. "She’s a wolf, Mama," she whispered.
John hadn’t moved. He was still holding the gun, now trembling.
I turned back to him.
"If you ever touch them again," I growled, still half-wolf, "I will show you just how much of a beast I can be."
He opened his mouth to speak—then sprinted out the back door like the coward he was.
I exhaled hard.
Aira sat up slowly, arms still around Kiani. She stared at with trembling hands. "All this ti... I thought I was going crazy. I thought I imagined it. That night we left—I couldn’t take it. Nefang said he wanted to change into one of you."
Tears welled in her eyes.
"I loved him. I loved you. But I was human. I thought it was all so twisted dream. That if I stayed, I’d lose myself completely."
I sat beside her, unsure if I was still glowing or just trembling.
"You didn’t dream it," I whispered. "You were taken to Thornridge. He put you to sleep and brought you and through a portal. I shifted at fourteen. That was real."
Aira’s breath hitched. She covered her mouth.
"Luciana... I left you."
"I know," I said. "I didn’t understand it for a long ti. I hated you for leaving. I thought you didn’t want . But now... seeing how he tried to force you to change—how terrifying that must have been... I get it."
I took her hand slowly. She didn’t pull away.
"You left because you thought it was the only way. But now... I’m here to take you ho."
Her lips parted, and a sob caught in her throat.
"I can’t go back."
"You can. With ."
"But Kiani..."
"She cos too," I said firmly.
"I’m not like you," Aira said, voice breaking. "I can’t run with wolves. I can’t fight like you just did."
"You don’t have to fight," I said. "You just have to believe in . Trust that I’ll protect you both."
Aira looked down at Kiani, who had crawled into her lap, clutching her shirt tightly. The bruises on the girl’s arms weren’t old. They ran deep. And the fear in her eyes? Even deeper.
"If you stay," I said gently, "he will kill one of you. Maybe not tonight, but eventually."
The silence was thick, broken only by the sound of the wind through the trees outside. Aira ran her hand through Kiani’s hair and looked up at .
"Can you really take us away from here?"
"I can," I nodded. "But the path isn’t easy. We’ll need help. I know soone... a Seer. She can open the portal back to Thornridge."
Aira inhaled, and I could see the war raging behind her eyes. Love for her daughter. Terror of the unknown. Grief for everything she once was.
"I don’t want her to grow up like I did," she whispered.
"She won’t," I said. "Not with there."
Then, finally—slowly—she nodded.
"Okay."
I felt my breath release all at once, like I’d been holding it for years.
Aira clutched Kiani tightly, whispering words I couldn’t hear. Then she stood, wobbling a little, and looked around the wreckage of their ho. The bloodstained floor. The shattered plates. The overturned table. The haunting shadows of too many nights spent in fear.
"We leave tonight," she said.
Later that Night
I led them both through the back fields, away from the road, keeping low and silent. My half-shift had faded, but the adrenaline still burned beneath my skin. Aira kept close behind , Kiani in her arms, eyes wide and alert.
"We’ll stay in the woods tonight," I whispered. "By morning, I’ll take you to the Seer."
Kiani clung to her mother’s shoulder, head buried in her neck.
Aira spoke quietly. "Is she really your sister?"
I smiled faintly. "I think she is now."
When we reached a small clearing near the treeline, I started gathering sticks. Aira watched in silence before joining . We made a fire pit together—silent, synchronized. The way I used to imagine we would, if she’d never left.
She sat across from , warming Kiani in a blanket we brought from the house.
After a long silence, she asked, "Does he... does Nefang still talk about ?"
I hesitated.
"Sotis," I said. "He says he regrets how it ended. But he also says you betrayed him."
She flinched.
"I didn’t an to. I just... I couldn’t live in that world. Not when I didn’t belong."
"You do now," I said. "You always did. You just needed soone to remind you."
Her eyes glistened with tears. She looked at with sothing I hadn’t seen since I was nine years old—love without fear.
"I’m sorry I left you," she whispered.
"I forgive you," I said.
And I ant it.
Because tonight, I saw the woman behind the mystery.
The mother behind the mory.
And the family that still had a chance—if we could survive what ca next.
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