Rylan stood in the middle of the living room, fists clenched, muscles taut, eyes dark with that familiar storm Max had come to recognize. The powder, the fight, the adrenaline—it all coiled together into a dangerous cocktail inside him, and his wolf stirred, snarling at the restraint that Max was trying so desperately to impose.
"Rylan… calm down," Max said firmly, stepping in front of him. His own heart raced, but he kept his voice steady. "They're gone. You don't need to chase this right now."
Rylan's jaw tightened, a low growl escaping him. "Gone? No. They tested us. They came into my house, Max. They touched what's mine… and they escaped." His hands flexed, the temptation to hunt them down almost visible in the way his body coiled. "I want this. I need this fight."
Max swallowed hard, stepping even closer, keeping just enough distance to avoid being caught in the initial surge of his energy. He had trained with Rylan for years, had seen him fight countless threats—but this… this was different. This wasn't just about skill or survival anymore. Rylan's need for violence, sharpened by the powder and the fight, made him unpredictable. Brutal. Dangerous even to those he trusted.
"Rylan… listen to me," Max said, voice lower, urgent. "If you go out there now, it's not just them. It's… you. You'll break yourself, and you'll hurt anyone in your path. You can't let this craving decide what you do!"
Rylan's wolf snarled, a deep rumble that made the walls vibrate slightly. His body trembled—not with fear, but with raw, barely-contained hunger for the fight. His eyes flicked to Max, a shadow of recognition passing through the heat and storm in his gaze. "Then help me… control it. Stop me if you have to."
Max's heart pounded. He knew Rylan never lost control completely—but right now, with the powder's residue coursing through him, the line between predator and man was razor-thin. He could feel the danger radiating off him, and for the first time, he realized that he might not survive this if Rylan went full force.
His mind raced. One solution. He reached for his phone, thumb hovering over the screen. He needed reinforcement—someone strong enough, skilled enough, and yes… someone he trusted to stand beside him.
Rylan and I can't face this alone… Max thought. At least if Kia comes, it won't be just me taking the beating.
He pressed the number.
"Hey… I need help," Max said quickly, his voice tense but controlled, knowing Rylan was watching every microexpression. "It's Rylan. He… he's… he's ready to hunt. And I'm… not sure I can hold him back by myself. Come. Now."
On the other end, Kia's sharp intake of breath told him everything. He didn't ask questions. He didn't hesitate. He simply understood the danger.
Max lowered the phone, keeping his stance between Rylan and the door. "You hear that?" he asked quietly, almost rhetorically. "Help is on the way. You're not going alone."
Rylan's eyes flicked to the phone, the shadow of a smirk ghosting across his face. "So… you called him," he said, voice low, almost teasing in its darkness. "You want backup… against my own craving."
Max's hands tensed, but he held firm. "I want myself alive. That's all. That's the only thing that matters right now. I can't die now, I am still young to die, I haven't even kissed a girl, ohh my fragile life.
Rylan's stormy gaze softened—just slightly. But the hunger in his eyes didn't fade. He was still ready to go, ready to hunt, ready to unleash the monster he had learned to control. But for the first time that night, he allowed himself to wait.
The distant roar of a car approaching told them Kia was on his way. Max exhaled, but he didn't relax. Not yet. He knew Rylan's storm wouldn't be quelled so easily.
And Rylan? He stood there, coiled and ready, a predator restrained only by the promise of a worthy fight—one he would have when the time came.