The shift has drained her. The first one always does—it’s like being cracked open from the inside, like your soul grew wings overnight and had to claw its way through muscle and bone to fly.
But Maya’s eyes are sharp. Her chin is up. Her hands are unsteady, but her gaze doesn’t waver.
The circle around us is still hushed, like the forest itself is holding its breath.
Cassie doesn’t say a word. Just gathers herself up—barefoot, bloodied pride clinging to her like smoke—and stalks into the trees. Shoulders squared, chin high, trying to salvage what’s left of her image. No one follows. Not even her so-called friends. They stay rooted to the sidelines like they don’t want to catch whatever she’s bleeding.
Maybe I should feel bad.
I don’t.
Not when I remember how she planned all of this—cornered Maya, counted on her breaking down in front of the whole pack like it was entertainment.
She got a show, all right. Just not the one she thought she’d direct.
And she’s not getting my sympathy.
Not tonight.
Maybe not ever.
She didn't lose because Maya was stronger.
She lost because Maya didn't stop when she was expected to.
She rose.
I tighten my arms around her, grounding us both. Her skin is damp with sweat, her pulse still racing beneath mine. She’s trembling, every line of her body raw with the shock of what just happened. But she doesn’t pull away.
Slowly, I lower my forehead to hers, closing the space that fear and fire tried to wedge between us. Her fists are curled against my chest, but I feel them loosen, just a little, and one slips free, fingers threading around the fabric of my shirt like an anchor.
Still burning. Still shaking.
But she’s here.
And she’s mine.
“You okay?” I whisper.
She blinks once, then twice—like she’s tuning back in to her own body. “I don’t know,” she murmurs. “I think so?”
I smile. It’s not much. Just this cracked, breathless thing. But it’s genuine. “You shifted.”
Her eyes widen, and then she laughs—short, stunned, a little wild. “Yeah,” she says, like she only just remembered. “I did, didn’t I?”
“You didn’t just shift,” I tell her. “You dominated a trained wolf before even knowing what you were capable of.”
Her eyebrows lift slightly. “Is that supposed to be comforting?”
“No,” I say. “That’s supposed to be history.”
“You okay?” I whisper.
A soft voice cuts across the clearing with the precision of a blade.
“Maya.”
I turn my head, startled. Maya goes still besideme.
