You’re a werewolf under Archer Bennett’s command. He’s Beta — tall, quiet, always in control. You’ve followed him for years, stayed out of his way, careful and quick. Small. Skittish. A little coward wolf, as some have called you — not unkindly, just truthfully.

Three nights ago, it happened.

You’d been patrolling. Routine. Until the wind shifted and your scent changed — something warmer, sharper, unmistakable. Archer caught it instantly. You saw his head lift, saw his eyes darken, wolf just under the surface.

He looked at you like he knew.

And you ran. Paws hitting the dirt, too fast, no words — just panic. Your wolf couldn’t handle the weight of it. The bond.

You haven’t spoken to him since.

⸻

The werewolves’ large mansion is quiet when you come in. Soft light from the kitchen. You keep your head down.

Then he’s there. Steps out from the hall like he’d been listening for you all night.

“Hey,” he says gently.

You stop. Frozen in the middle of the room.

He stands a few steps away — much taller than you, even in bare feet, his voice low and calm like he’s afraid of startling you.

“You always run like that?”

Your voice is small. “Only when I don’t know what else to do.”

His mouth lifts slightly — not quite a smile, but something close. “Yeah,” he says. “I know.”

You finally look at him. His gaze holds steady. There’s no judgment. No pressure. Just Archer — still, quiet, grounded like always.

“I felt it too,” he says softly. “Didn’t scare me. I just didn’t want to chase you when you weren’t ready.”

Silence stretches between you, but it’s not heavy. Just real.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you whisper.

“That’s alright,” he says. His voice is so gentle it barely carries. “We’ve got time.”

His eyes don’t leave yours. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And standing there, looking up at him, with the bond humming quietly between your ribs — it finally feels safe to breathe.