Her hand trembles as she nods, just once. When she speaks, her voice is steadier than I expected but carries the weight of someone whose world has just shattered. "I saw a man at the pier, last night, around midnight. I couldn't sleep, and I was at the window, and I saw him." She swallows hard. "He changed. Some kind of mist or fog surrounded him and when it fell away, he was a panther. Massive. Black as midnight. And then he just... disappeared into shadow."
"Rafe." I close the door behind me, don't move closer. Give her space even though my wolf snarls at the distance. "Rafael Vega. He's not pack. Not mine to control. But he's devious, powerful, and he doesn't make mistakes. If he let you see him shift, it was deliberate."
"Why?" The question is sharp. "Why would he do that?"
"Because you were always going to see eventually." I meet her eyes, hold her gaze. "Because your aunt documented our existence for forty years, and you inherited that knowledge whether you wanted it or not. Because you're here, in Stormhaven, asking questions that have answers you weren't prepared for."
"Answers like wolfshifters are real?" Her voice cracks on a laugh that's half hysteria. "Like the folklore and legends and myths are actually documentation of... what? A secret subspecies of humanity that's been hiding in plain sight for millennia?"
"Not hiding." I take a step closer. She holds her ground. "Living. We've always lived alongside humans. Sometimes openly, sometimes in secret, depending on how... accepting... your kind chooses to be."
"My kind." She wraps her arms around herself. "You say that like you're not human."
"I'm not." Another step. The space between us shrinks. "Not entirely. I'm human enough to walk among you, speak yourlanguage, live in your world. But I'm also wolf. Always have been. My grandfather was. His father before him. The line goes back further than recorded history."
"The storm wolf." Her voice is barely a whisper. "My aunt's journal. She called you that."
"Your aunt was observant. Perceptive. She saw what others missed." I'm close enough now to see the pulse hammering in her throat, to smell the complex cocktail of fear and fascination and something else—desire, barely acknowledged, fighting with logic. "She documented us because she believed the truth should be preserved. That one day, someone would need to know."
"Someone like me." Eliza's eyes search mine. "Why? Why would I need to know?"
This is it. The moment I should walk away, let her run, protect her by cutting this bond before it fully forms. But I can't. My wolf won't let me. The mate bond won't let me. And some deep, selfish part of me that I'm not proud of doesn't want to.
I let my eyes change. Feel the gold bleeding through, the wolf rising to the surface enough to show in my gaze. "Because you're my mate."
She sucks in a breath. "What does that mean?"
"It means fate tied us together before we ever met." The words come easier than I expected. "It means my wolf recognized you the moment I saw you. It means every instinct I have screams at me to protect you, claim you, keep you safe from anything that might hurt you. It means...” I stop, jaw working. "It means I'm yours, whether you understand that or not."
Her pupils dilate. Her breath quickens. I watch her body respond to the truth even as her mind struggles to process it. The mate bond pulses between us, and I see the moment understanding dawns—felt but not seen, the invisible tie connecting us. Her scent changes—fear fading, replaced by warmth, desire that mirrors my own.
"That's not possible," she whispers, but her voice lacks conviction.
"You know it is." I take another step. We're close enough now that I can feel her body heat, can see the fine tremor running through her. "You've felt it since the moment we met. That pull. That recognition. You thought it was just attraction, chemistry, coincidence. But it's more. It's everything."
"Prove it." Her chin lifts. "You're telling me you're a werewolf…”
“The term is wolfshifter.”
Her eyes widen and then narrow. “Forgive me… you’re a wolfshifter and that I'm your mate. That magic is real and the world is full of monsters. Prove it."
The challenge in her voice surges through me. She's not running. She's not screaming. She's demanding evidence with the same fearless determination that makes her a brilliant journalist. The kind of courage that humbles me.
"If I do this," I say quietly, "there's no going back. You can't unsee it. Can't unknow it. Your world changes the moment I show you, and it doesn't change back."
"My world already changed." Her voice is raw. "The moment I watched a man become a panther, the world I knew stopped existing. So show me. Let me see what you are."
I feel my wolf rising to the surface enough to show in my gaze. "This is all I can show you while staying human. We don't shift partially. It's all or nothing."
She stares at my wolf-gold eyes, transfixed. Then whispers, "Show me everything."
The words break something in me. The last thread of control I'm holding onto snaps.
I step back, put space between us. "Not here. Outside. I need room."
She follows me out onto the small porch that overlooks the bay. Dawn is breaking on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. The perfect backdrop for the impossible.
I pull off my clothes, my boots. She watches without comment, without looking away. When I meet her eyes, there's no fear there anymore. Just determination. Trust. The kind of trust I don't deserve but desperately need.
