Her brow furrows. “Try what?”
“Talking to her. Feeling for her. Sometimes, under the right conditions... it helps.”
Maya hesitates. I see the doubt—but underneath it, the hope.
“Okay,” she says.
I raise my hand and press my palm gently over her heart. Her breath catches.
“Close your eyes.”
She does.
“Breathe in slow. Let everything else fall away, the nerves,all of it. Listen. Inside. What’s waiting for you?”
I keep my voice low, steady. My wolf is stirring just under my skin—responding to her, urging her to rise.
I feel the change before she does. The shift in air pressure. The sudden, soft thrum beneath her skin. Like heat cracking through ice.
“Something’s moving,” she whispers. “It’s... there.”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Don’t fight it.”
Her jaw tightens. Her hands curl into fists at her sides.
But then—it stops.
Like a door slamming shut.
The connection breaks, whatever it was, severed too soon.
Maya opens her eyes, chest heaving. Nothing’s changed. No claws. No fur. Just her, blinking, breathless and still human.
She steps back, shaking her head. “I thought—”
“I know,” I say.
Her expression hardens. “It’s not going to happen.”
“Not tonight,” I agree. “But that doesn’t mean it won’t come.”
“Cassie won’t care about that.”
“She will when you knock her down anyway.”
Maya snorts, but her voice is thin. “As a human?”
I step in, placing a hand gently at the back of her neck,forcing her to meet my eyes.
“You’re more than human. You’re not fractured. You’re becoming whole. That’s not weakness.”
She holds my gaze. Doesn’t flinch.
I let my hand fall.
A howl cuts across the woods. The first one. The signal.
“They’re calling us,” I say.
