Doc adjusts in his chair, like he's about to deliver some bad news. "I'm sorry, Mona. But I'm certain it wasn't him. When did this happen? And where?"
"It was six months ago. I'm not lying. It was New Year's Eve. A friend from work invited me to a party at her place in the village. In New York. He showed up. He…"
Orion's grip tightens. He dips his chin and says, "Anything you have to say, I'm here, and I'll listen. I swear it."
I don't look away, watching his eyes ignite while I finish the story. "I don't know who invited him, but he looked so out of place. Just… different. Powerful. Everyone gave him a wide berth, like they knew he was dangerous. I wasn't feeling well, so I left early. And when I got home, he was justthere..."
I tuck my knees against my chest. "I was so scared. He caught me off guard, bit into my neck—" I sniff in a shallow breath, wrap my hand around the scar and retell the rest of the story. Doc places a hand on mine, encouraging. I try to ignore the way his comfort feels, but it snakes its way inside me, infecting me with his kindness. I hate it. It feels like I'm not supposed to be angry, or scared, or sad. I force myself to keep talking, pulling away from his grip.
I tell them how he took off my pants and bit my legs. How much it hurt, how I thought I was dying. I reach out and touch the scars on my legs, hidden beneath my clothes. "He left me there to bleed out. The next morning, I was suddenly a wolf. And I tried to call my dad because I didn't know what else to do,who to talk to, but the cops said he was killed. Somebody slit his throat. I know it was him. Iknowit."
Orion's fists clench at his sides, knuckles turning white. Doc reaches out, but Orion intercepts and wraps his arms around me. He pulls me in and hugs me so tight I think he might crush me, and suddenly, it's all just too much. The weight of him shatters something inside me—a dam holding back months, hell,yearsof isolation. It's the most affection I've felt from anyone in so long that I don't just cry. I collapse, convulsing with sobs that claw their way out of my throat.
He smells like heaven. Like home.
Orion squeezes me so tight I almost can't breathe, but I don't want him to let go an inch. It anchors me. His tenderness, his slow, steady heartbeat, his wolf's hum and Beep's assurance that we're okay—it all wraps around me like a protective blanket.
I continue to sob, and it takes a few minutes, but finally I calm down and the tears stop coming. Orion won't let me go completely, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. Instead of pulling away, I lean into him. His touch almost fuels me.
I wipe my face with the heel of my palm, forgetting about the healing bone around my eye. It's still sore, but it grounds me. "Anyway, the next thing I know, I'm a werewolf." I laugh self-deprecatingly, my voice scratchy through the subsiding tears.
"Werewolves are a myth, my dear. Stories told of beasts who are bound by the moon. We are shifters. You are a shifter. And wolves can't bemade…"
I frown, but Doc changes the subject. "Let's focus on one thing at a time. Grayson, our clan's Lune, was most definitely here on New Year's Eve. The clan hunts together in celebration of the New Year."
I sense no deception from him, but that means nothing. My wolfy senses aren't foolproof.
Beep snorts, but I ignore her.
"I'm not lying," I argue weakly.
"No, I don't believe that you are. But…" He looks at Orion. Something unspoken passes between them. Then he pushes back in the chair and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a phone. "You have no reason to trust me. But I'm asking you to suspend your disbelief for just a moment. This wolf that attacked you… I know it's asking a lot, but I want you to close your eyes and picture him."
"Doc, we're not putting her through that," Orion grits.
"It's necessary. We need to understand what happened in order to help her."
Both my omega and I whimper, not liking the sound of where this is going. But then a low, vibrating hum rumbles from Orion's chest. He holds me tighter, and it sounds like a purr. It vibrates through me, calming my nerves. Like magic.
Beep?I ask, hoping she'll explain. She doesn't, but my omegalovesthis. She's enjoying Orion, this complete stranger, holding me close.
It's a lot to ask, but I choose to trust the doctor and Orion because they are the first people in six months that've taken the time to talk with me and take care of me. I sense an innate goodness in both of them. So, reluctantly, I do as Doc asks and close my eyes.
"Were there any markings, anything that stood out in his appearance?"
"He, umm… He had a scar cutting through his left eyebrow. I remember thinking how violent it made him look. It cut to his cheek. And… his head was shaved." Reluctantly, I remember the black wolf from yesterday… and his long, dark, messy hair, half-tied back.
"Okay. Tattoos?"
"He was mostly covered. But yes, he had tattoos. A wolf silhouette, here," I tap my right hand. "And letters on his fingers."
"You have his image in your mind?"
"Yes," I whisper.
"Alright. I'm going to have you open your eyes." I do, and he reaches out to hold my hand, then lifts his phone in front of me. "This picture was taken about six years ago," he says softly. It's of two men. They're building something, and whoever took the picture called their attention toward the camera.
In the photo, one man smirks. He's shirtless and covered in tattoos. They hide nearly every inch of his skin, all the way down to his fingers. A familiar wolf silhouette on one hand, and dark green eyes don't seem as haunted as I remember. They look warm. Happy.
