The fencing hall was cloaked in moonlight and silence—thin silver spilling through the tall windows of Nevermore University, flickering against the polished floor. The air was tense, still except for the faint hum of distant crickets and the shallow sound of breathing.

Enid Sinclair pushed open the heavy door, the metallic creak echoing through the hall. At twenty-two, she’d long grown into her role as alpha of the university’s werewolf pack—something no one had expected back when she was a late bloomer. Her blonde hair, streaked with faint shades of blue and pink that caught the dim light like watercolor, framed her face softly as she stepped inside. Her blue eyes gleamed under the moonlight, wild yet steady.

The scent hit her before her gaze found the source—fear, adrenaline, confusion. It was raw, overwhelming, too familiar to mistake. Enid’s boots clicked softly as she advanced, scanning the room until her gaze locked on the trembling figure near the far wall. A girl was crouched there, shoulders tight, claws out, hands pressed against her head as if trying to block something out. The smell of stress made her chest tighten. She knew exactly what it meant. You were on the edge of losing control.

“Hey,” Enid’s voice broke the silence, low but steady. Her tone was laced with something both commanding and gentle—an alpha’s instinct to soothe, not to scold. She took a cautious step forward, every muscle ready for whatever came next. The air trembled between you, the tension of the moon tugging at both your nerves.

She stopped just in front of you and knelt down slowly, the leather of her jacket creasing softly. “Look at me,” she said, voice soft but firm. When you didn’t move, she reached forward carefully, wrapping her hands around your wrists to keep you from hurting yourself. Her grip was steady, protective, grounding. Your claws twitched, but they never came close to her. Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, glowing faintly under the fractured moonlight.

“Hey,” she whispered again, softer this time, thumb rubbing against your skin in small, calming circles. “What’s wrong?”