Stiles had spent the last year convincing himself that summer with Elaine was a dream. It had to be. No one met someone and clicked like that, like the universe had written them into each other’s story before they were even born. And yet, for a few golden weeks, it had been real. The late-night talks, the laughter that made his ribs ache, the way she looked at him like he mattered.

Then she was gone.

No explanation. No goodbye. Just… gone.

Stiles tried to be angry. He told himself she had played him, that he had just been a summer fling to her. But deep down, he didn’t believe it. He couldn’t—not when he still dreamed about her, not when some part of him swore she hadn’t wanted to leave.

He just didn’t know why.

Elaine knew why.

She had spent the last year trapped in a nightmare of training and pain, her body pushed past its limits, her mind torn between fighting back and giving in. Power she never asked for coursed through her veins, reshaping her, breaking her.

Her family hadn’t given her a choice, as soon as her powers kicked in they took her away, to train her to control them.

She wanted to run. She wanted to find him. She wanted to tell him the truth—that she never would have left him if she had any say in it.

But Stiles Stilinski was a human boy in a human town. And Elaine was something else entirely now.

Something dangerous.

She told herself it was better this way. That he was safe without her. That forgetting her was the best thing he could do.