Maybe it was punishment. Maybe he just wanted to see if I’d break. If I’d wolf out on him so he could fire me.
I had to prove him wrong, so I filled out the fucking forms. One after another.
Keeping my head down, I drilled my way through the paperwork, but it didn't take long before I became the joke around the precinct. Dog puns thrown around left and right. Whistles to get my attention. Barking noises when I walked by. I refused to let them bother me, but when I didn’t react, they just got bolder.
One morning, there were dog treats scattered across my desk. I looked up, saw the captain watching from his doorway, coffee in hand. When our eyes met, he just took another sip and turned away, his message clear.This was acceptable. He wasn’t going to stop it.
The air in my throat burned, and that wolf inside of me bristled.
Even as a beast, a monster, I helped save those turned supes in the cave. I was there to help the human boy in a dangerous situation. Was on the hunt for a bad man doing bad things.
I’ve done more good as a criminal than I accomplished as a cop.That thought scared me more than the beast, the wolf, inside me.
Sleep didn’t come easy that night. The sheets tangled around my legs, the pillow damp beneath my cheek. I could swear that I smelled her scent, soft, floral, maddening. It clung to my skin like a memory, drowning me with every breath.
I turned over again and pulled the pillow to my chest, pretending for half a second it was her, that her breath brushed against mythroat, claws tracing fire down my back. My beast stirred, feeling restless, needy. He remembered, too.
But the bed stayed cold the rest of the night, and so did I.
When dawn bled through the blinds, I felt hollow, like something had been siphoned out of me. Even the light felt heavy on my skin.
I got up and tugged on that scratchy uniform, catching myself making a face in the mirror as I buttoned it up. I hated the way it felt on my body even more than yesterday. Every seam felt wrong, the fabric too rough, too human. I caught myself staring at my hands, the same ones that had been slick with blood in the dark, damp cave.
The vampire’s snarl echoed in the hollow of my skull. I told the beast,Rip him apart, and he had obeyed. Our claws had torn through flesh like wet paper, ribs cracking beneath my palms, hot blood painting across my face. His heart pulsed in my mouth before my teeth chomped down, then it burst.
I didn’t hesitate, didn’t flinch at the act of hurting him, of tearing him apart with my own hands. When I transformed back into a man, looking at the damage I’d done, I hadn’t felt disgust or regret. There’d been nothing but the high, savage and electric, coursing through me.
Even now, the ghost of that thrill spiked in my veins.
What if the true monster wasn't the beast underneath my skin but was really me at my core? What if it had always been there?
That thought haunted me through the day.
Somewhere between the reports and the whispered jokes, something shifted. I stopped calling himthe beast.I called himmy wolf.
He was mine. I was his. There was no going back. No tearing us apart. We were stuck together, forever.
The next morning, the uniform hung on the hanger like a lie. I tried to reach for it, but my arms wouldn’t move. The stiff, starched collar, the badge, the neat lines, all of it felt foreign like a costume I’d outgrown.
The man who used to wear it followed rules, keeping his emotions buried under the weight of discipline and duty. He worked beside people who laughed in his face and called it camaraderie.
Butshe—she saw me. All of me.
Until she didn’t want to anymore. Until I ruined it.
Her eyes, that night, drained of every trace of warmth. The way her breath caught before she turned away. My wolf had howled until my throat burned, begging me to chase after her, but I didn't move. I just let her walk away.
Standing in that cave, I’d told myself that I was just doing my job, but now I could admit the lie tasted bitter every time I thought about it.
If she’d wanted to kill me, she could’ve—even should’ve—but she didn’t. That mercy cut deeper than any blade.
Being surrounded by the useless chatter and clicking of keyboards, I’d never felt more alone.
Each morning felt the same. The slow ache of a wolf mourning inside my ribs, his grief beating in time with mine. The wounds never closed. They just kept bleeding quietly, a penance that seeped into everything.
The dark fabric of my untouched uniform caught in the window’s light. Hand stretched out, brushing the sleeve carefully, half-expecting it to bite, I made my decision.
It wasn’t born of guilt, nor was it because of the wolf whispering from the depths of my soul. This choice was mine, made by me.
