I’m trying to—I don’t even know what I’m trying to do anymore.
Find her.
Fix it.
Make the wrongness stop.
The magic hums under my skin, thick and heavy, like a tide finally turning. Bones crack. Muscles stretch and realign, the shift ripping through me in a sharp, grinding wave.
It hurts.
Not clean.
Not easy.
But I force it.
Force my Tiger back.
Force control where instinct wants to tear it apart.
When it’s done, I’m human again.
Barely.
Breathing hard.
Raw.
Exposed.
No one moves.
Not for a long, stretched-out second.
Then Reg crouches in front of me, slow, careful, like I might bolt again. He offers me a hand.
And a towel.
I take both.
Because suddenly I feel it.
The aftermath.
The vulnerability.
The fact that I just lost control in the middle of town like some half-feral rookie.
“I promise,” I grind out, my voice still rough, still edged with the beast, “I’m not forcing her. I just freaked out. I woke up, and she was gone.”
Gone.
The word still lands wrong.
Hunter’s gaze narrows, not unkind, but not forgiving either.
“I get that,” he says. “But what you did today? That jeopardized this entire Pride.”
