Please don't die on me."
Maya Rivers pressed her hands against the massive wolf's side, feeling warm blood seep between her fingers. Rain hammered against the clinic windows while thunder rolled across the sky like a warning.
The wolf's silver eyes locked onto hers—intelligent, aware, almost human. That should have been her first clue that nothing about tonight was normal.
"Sarah, I need more gauze!" Maya called over her shoulder.
Her assistant hovered near the doorway, face pale. "Maya, that thing is huge. We should call animal control. This isn't safe."
"It's a wolf, not a thing, and it's bleeding out." Maya didn't look up as she worked, her hands moving with practiced efficiency. "Either help me or get out."
Sarah grabbed supplies with shaking hands. "Wolves don't get this big. And they definitely don't show up at veterinary clinics begging for help."
Maya had to admit her assistant had a point. The creature on her examination table was easily twice the size of any wolf she'd studied in school. Its black fur was matted with rain and blood, and those eyes—God, those eyes watched her every move with unnerving focus.
She'd been locking up for the night when she heard scratching at the back door. Opening it had been stupid, she knew that now. But the moment she'd seen the injured animal, professional instinct had overridden common sense.
"The wounds look like claw marks," Maya muttered, cleaning the deepest gash. "Like another animal attacked it."
"What kind of animal could do this to something that size?"
"I don't know." Maya grabbed a suture kit. "But whatever it was, it meant to kill."
The wolf made a low sound—not quite a whine, not quite a growl. Maya paused, meeting those silver eyes again. For a crazy moment, she could have sworn the creature was trying to communicate.
"I know it hurts," she said softly. "But I need to stitch you up, okay? Just hold still."
The wolf went completely motionless, as if it understood.
Sarah backed toward the door. "This is insane. I'm calling someone."
"Don't." Maya's voice came out sharper than intended. "Look, just go home. I'll handle this."
"Maya—"
"Please, Sarah. I've got this."
Her assistant hesitated, then grabbed her purse. "You're crazy. You know that, right?"
"Probably."
The door chimed as Sarah left, and Maya found herself alone with a predator that could rip her throat out before she could scream. Smart people would have been terrified. Maya just focused on the work.
"You're not going to hurt me, are you?" She threaded the needle with steady hands. "I don't know why, but I don't think you will."
The wolf's tail moved slightly—the closest thing to a response.
Maya worked for over two hours, stitching wounds, checking for internal injuries, and administering antibiotics. The wolf remained eerily calm through all of it, never snapping or growling, just watching her with those impossibly intelligent eyes.
By the time she finished, exhaustion had settled into her bones. She'd been running the clinic alone for six months since moving to Crescent Falls, working twelve-hour days to build a reputation in this small mountain town. Tonight was supposed to be early—a hot bath and mindless TV.
Instead, she was playing surgeon to a monster-sized wolf during a thunderstorm. Typical.
"There," Maya said, taping the last bandage. "You're going to need rest and antibiotics. I should really keep you overnight for observation, but something tells me you're not a fan of cages."
The wolf's ears perked up.
Maya grabbed a blanket from the recovery room and spread it on the floor near the examination table. "You can sleep here. I'll crash in my office. Deal?"
She didn't expect a response. The wolf carefully climbed down from the table—moving slowly to avoid tearing stitches—and settled onto the blanket. Those silver eyes tracked her as she dimmed the lights.
"Goodnight, big guy," Maya said. "Try not to die before morning."
Her office had a lumpy couch that she'd used for emergency naps before. Maya grabbed a pillow and collapsed onto it, not even bothering to take off her blood-stained scrubs. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving her shaky and drained.
Rain continued to pound against the windows. Maya closed her eyes, trying to quiet her racing thoughts. She should be scared. Normal people would be scared. But something about that wolf felt right, like fate had dropped it at her door for a reason.
"You're losing it, Rivers," she muttered. "Too many late nights and not enough sleep."
Maya drifted off to the sound of thunder and rain, unaware that she'd just crossed an invisible line between the world she knew and one that existed in shadows.
---
She woke to silence.
The storm had passed, leaving early morning light filtering through the blinds. Maya sat up, neck stiff from the terrible couch. For a moment, she wondered if last night had been a dream.
Then she remembered the wolf.
Maya scrambled to her feet and rushed to the recovery room. The blanket was there, blood-stained bandages scattered across it, but no massive black wolf.
"No, no, no." She checked behind the examination table, in the supply closet, and even in the bathroom. "Where did you go?"
The back door stood slightly ajar.
Maya's heart sank. The wolf had left, probably gone off to die somewhere in the woods. She'd worked so hard to save it, and for what? So it could wander off and collapse from infection?
"Stupid animal," she whispered, though tears stung her eyes.
She turned back toward her office, planning to shower and change before opening for the day. Three steps down the hallway, she froze.
A man stood in her office doorway.
A very tall, very muscular, very naked man wrapped in her emergency blanket.
Maya's brain short-circuited. "What—how—who—"
The man raised his hands in a calming gesture. His eyes were silver. The same silver as the wolf from last night.
"Don't scream," he said. His voice was deep and rough, like he didn't use it often. "I can explain."
Maya screamed anyway.
She grabbed the nearest object—a bottle of antiseptic—and threw it. The man dodged easily, moving with inhuman grace. Maya backed away, her mind struggling to process what she was seeing.
"You need to calm down." The man stepped forward.
"Stay back!" Maya grabbed a scalpel from a nearby tray. "I'm calling the police!"
"With what phone? You left it in your office."
He was right. Her phone sat on her desk, ten feet behind him. Maya's hand tightened around the scalpel. "Who are you? Where's the wolf?"
The man's expression shifted to something almost apologetic. "I am the wolf."
"That's not funny."
"It's not a joke."
Maya stared at him, looking for signs of drugs or mental illness. The man stood perfectly still, letting her process. He was covered in bandages—the same bandages she'd applied to the wolf. They were in the exact same places.
"This isn't possible," Maya said. "People don't turn into animals."
"No. But werewolves do."
The word hung in the air between them like a challenge. Maya wanted to laugh, to call him crazy, to run. But those eyes—God help her, she knew those eyes.
"I'm hallucinating," she decided. "I'm still asleep on that couch, having the weirdest dream of my life."
"You're not dreaming." The man took another step closer. "My name is Kai Blackwood. You saved my life last night, and now we have a serious problem."
"The only problem I have is a naked crazy person in my clinic."
"Maya—"
She blinked. "How do you know my name?"
Kai gestured to the diplomas on the wall. "Says it right there. Dr. Maya Rivers, DVM. You moved to Crescent Falls six months ago from Seattle. You live in the apartment above this clinic. You take your coffee black with two sugars, and you eat lunch at the diner across the street every Wednesday."
Ice ran down Maya's spine. "You've been watching me?"
"Not intentionally. I just notice things." Kai's jaw tightened. "Look, I didn't want this. You were supposed to be closed. I was trying to get to my pack's healer, but I collapsed before I made it. Your clinic was the closest shelter."
"Pack?" Maya laughed, high and sharp. "Pack. Right. Because you're a werewolf."
"Yes."
"Prove it."
Kai's eyes flashed. "You sure you want that?"
No. Every instinct screamed no. But Maya had never backed down from a challenge in her life, and she wasn't about to start now.
"Prove it," she repeated.
Kai dropped the blanket.
Maya averted her eyes—"Oh my God, warn a person!"—but when she looked back, the man was gone. In his place stood the massive black wolf from last night, bandages still in place, silver eyes locked on hers.
The scalpel fell from Maya's numb fingers.
The wolf shifted again, bones cracking and reforming in a process that should have taken minutes but lasted only seconds. Kai stood before her once more, reaching for the blanket.
"Believe me now?" he asked.
Maya's legs gave out. She sat down hard on the floor, staring at nothing. "This isn't real. Werewolves aren't real."
"They are. And you just saw one transform." Kai crouched in front of her, careful to keep distance. "I'm sorry. I never wanted to expose you to this world."
"Then why tell me?" Maya's voice came out hollow. "Why not just leave?"
"Because three of my enemies saw me running toward your clinic last night. They know you helped me." Kai's expression was grim. "Which means they'll come for you. And if they find you alone and unprotected, they'll kill you just to hurt me."
Maya looked up at him. "What?"
"You're in danger, Maya. Serious danger. And it's my fault."
The weight of his words settled over her like a burial shroud. Maya thought about her quiet life, her peaceful clinic, her fresh start in this small town. All of it was about to disappear.
"What do I do?" she whispered.
Kai held out his hand. "You come with me. Back to my territory, where I can protect you."
Maya stared at his outstretched hand. Every rational part of her brain screamed to refuse, to call the police, to run. But she'd looked into those silver eyes and seen the truth.
Werewolves were real. And somehow, she'd just become part of their world.
She took his hand.
Kai pulled her to her feet, relief flickering across his face. "Pack a bag. We need to leave before they come looking."
"How long do I have?"
"If we're lucky? An hour."
Maya rushed to her apartment above the clinic, mind racing. She threw clothes into a duffel bag, grabbed her laptop and important documents, and tried to think of what you needed when your entire reality had just shattered.
Kai appeared in her doorway, now dressed in clothes he'd apparently retrieved from somewhere. Dark jeans, black t-shirt, leather jacket. He looked dangerous and wild, like civilization was just a costume he wore.
"Ready?" he asked.
"No." Maya zipped the bag. "But I don't think that matters."
Kai's mouth twitched—almost a smile. "You're handling this better than most humans would."
"I'm freaking out internally. I just hide it well."
"Good skill to have." Kai took her bag. "Stay close to me. If anything happens, you run. Don't try to fight, don't try to help. Just run."
"What about you?"
"I'll be fine. It's you I'm worried about."
They made it to the parking lot before Maya heard the growling.
Three wolves stood between them and Kai's truck. But these weren't like Kai—these were smaller, mangy, with eyes that held only rage and hunger.
"Rogues," Kai said quietly. "Get behind me."
Maya pressed against his back, heart hammering. "What do we do?"
"I handle them. You survive."
The rogues attacked.
Kai transformed mid-leap, meeting the first wolf with a clash of fangs and fury. Maya watched in horror and awe as the massive black wolf tore into its enemies with brutal efficiency. Blood sprayed across the pavement. The sounds were primal and terrifying—snarls, yelps, the crack of breaking bones.
It was over in thirty seconds.
Three dead wolves lay on the ground. Kai shifted back, blood on his mouth, eyes wild with adrenaline. He looked at Maya, and she saw the question there—would she run now? Would she see him as a monster?
Maya walked forward and touched his face. "Are you hurt?"
Kai stared at her like she'd spoken a foreign language. "I just killed three creatures in front of you."
"You protected me." Maya's hand trembled, but she didn't pull away. "Thank you."
Something shifted in Kai's expression—surprise, respect, maybe the first hint of something deeper. He caught her wrist gently.
"We need to go," he said. "More will come."
They ran for the truck. Maya didn't look back at her clinic, her apartment, her carefully constructed life. She couldn't afford to.
As they peeled out of the parking lot, heading toward the mountains, Maya realized she'd just crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed.
Her old life was over.
Whatever came next would be written in moonlight and blood.