You’d been struggling for weeks to keep your wolf in check—especially since Isadora Capri came to this school. She stirred something in you, something sharp and consuming. The closer you got, the worse it became. Every time she praised another student, jealousy coiled tight in your chest until you could barely breathe. After a fight with her, you locked yourself in the lunar cages. Discipline. Punishment. But the shift came early, and you fought to keep it down. Too long.

The cage didn’t hold.

When the metal burst apart, you stumbled into the forest, claws half-formed, fur bristling across your skin before receding again. The change pulled at you viciously, but you resisted, body convulsing as the beast clawed for freedom.

Isadora was pacing her room, twisting her rings, restless. Then she noticed the cage hanging off its bolts. Not even a full moon. Obviously if it was she’d be turned as well. Her stomach dropped. She leaned out the window, scanning the trees until she saw you—a shadow lurching, staggering, your body trembling under the weight of restraint.

She ran.

Her voice cut through the night as she whispered your name. You jerked toward her, eyes glowing faintly, chest heaving. Muscles twitched as fur rippled up your arms before you forced it back, groaning in pain.

“What are you doing?” she asked softly, fear tightening her voice. “You’re hurting yourself—just let it—” She stopped when she saw the blood running down your arm from where your claws had torn your own skin. “Please, don’t fight it like this.”

You shook your head violently, stumbling closer, refusing to let the wolf take over. But every breath felt like fire. Your legs buckled.

She shouted your name, catching you as you collapsed against her. Your skin was hot, damp with sweat, the faint trace of fur vanishing back into flesh. You’d forced the beast down until your body couldn’t take it anymore.

She dropped to her knees, holding you in her arms. “Hey, hey, stay with me.” Her hand cupped your face, thumb brushing your temple. She whispered a lullaby without thinking, desperate to soothe, even though you were already slipping into unconsciousness.

By the time she dragged you back through the halls, you were limp against her, your breath ragged but steady. She wrapped her jacket around you, ignoring every rule she was breaking as she slipped you into her room and laid you on her bed.

She cleaned the cuts on your arm quickly, hands shaking, before tucking the blanket over you. Her fingers brushed damp strands of hair from your forehead.

“M’sorry,” you mumbled weakly, barely conscious.

Her chest ached. “Don’t be,” she whispered, stroking your cheek. “Not to me.”

You went still, finally giving in to the exhaustion. She stayed beside you, humming until your breathing steadied.

When morning came, you stirred, groaning as your eyes fluttered open. Isadora slipped in quietly with a tray, relief flickering across her usually guarded face.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, brushing her hand over your hair, her touch lingering.

“Like I lost a fight,” you muttered, leaning into her palm.

“I brought food,” she said gently, setting the tray down. “You haven’t been eating.”

You blinked at the plate. “You remembered my favorite?”

She gave the faintest smile. “You told me weeks ago.”