The cave was damp, its stone walls slick with years of forgotten water. It smelled of rust, earth, and something more primal—like rage waiting to be born. The sound of dripping echoed faintly through the hollow, as if even time itself hesitated to move too fast here.
Logan sat cross-legged on the dirt floor, his back against the cold rock. His face was pale, drawn tight, his hands clenched around his knees. The full moon wasn't visible down here, but its pull was unmistakable, thrumming in his veins, clawing at his insides. His breathing was already heavier than normal.
He didn't look up when the chains rattled.
"God, you look miserable." Damien's voice carried from the tunnel, sharp and dry as ever. "I swear, every month, it's like babysitting a rabid dog."
He stepped into the cave light, arms laden with chains. They clattered against each other like metal serpents, old iron links rusted from years of use. He dropped them with a heavy crash onto the dirt, dust rising in a lazy cloud.
Logan exhaled slowly. "You don't have to make it sound like I asked for this."
Damien crouched, inspecting the pile. His smirk curved, crooked and careless. "Well, you're a werewolf. I didn't exactly hand you a menu." He tugged one chain free, tested its weight, then tossed it aside. "And since you've got that whole turning into a bloodthirsty beast under the moon problem, lucky me—I get to play dog handler."
Logan finally looked up, his jaw tightening. "It's not funny, Damien."
"No," Damien agreed, his smirk flattening just a little. "It's not."
For a heartbeat, silence pressed between them, broken only by the restless clink of chains as Damien worked.
The moon's pull throbbed harder in Logan's blood. He could already feel the prickling under his skin, the pressure building in his bones, like something inside him was clawing to get out. Sweat slicked his brow.
Damien watched him, eyes narrowing. "It's starting, isn't it?"
Logan nodded once, sharp. "Yeah."
Without another word, Damien pulled a length of chain and moved behind him. The links were heavy, scratching against Logan's arms as Damien wrapped them tight across his chest and shoulders, pulling them snug against the stone pillar embedded in the cave's center. Logan gritted his teeth, biting down the instinct to resist.
"You know," Damien drawled as he looped another chain around Logan's torso, "there are people out there spending their full moons at parties, making out under starlight, living their best lives. Meanwhile, here we are—me, tying up my best friend like he's some psychotic piñata."
Logan's lips twitched despite the strain.
Another chain tightened. Logan winced, but said nothing. The metallic bite of the cuffs was familiar now, routine. Necessary.
Damien paused long enough to crouch in front of him, his gold-flecked eyes unreadable in the cave's shadows. "These better hold. You hear me?"
Logan met his gaze, chest heaving. "It will."
"You've said that before." Damien's voice softened—barely, but it was there. "But you don't get how close it is, Logan. One slip, one mistake, and…" His jaw clenched. "You know I'll stop you. I don't care how much it hurts. You won't hurt anyone else."
The words hung in the cave air, heavy, final.
Logan shut his eyes. "I don't want to be this."
"Yeah, well." Damien tugged another chain taut, the sound echoing. "Welcome to the club."
They both fell quiet. The pull of the moon was intensifying—Logan's breaths ragged now, his body trembling against the restraints. Veins throbbed along his neck, his eyes already glinting faintly red.
Damien knelt back, the last lock clicking shut. He rested an arm casually on his knee, though his body was tense, ready. "Alright, Wolfboy. Show time."
Logan growled low in his throat, more animal than man already.
Damien's smirk returned, but his eyes stayed sharp. "Don't worry. I've got you."
The cave shook with the first guttural roar as Logan's change began.
The cave was suffocating now. The air thick, heavy, buzzing with something ancient and primal.
Damien leaned back against the wall, rolling his shoulders. He could feel it, too—the moon's pull tugging at his veins, burning under his skin. His jaw clenched as he flexed his hands, claws already pricking at his fingertips, fangs pressing against his gums. His body hated this night, every single month. His wolf side clawed for space, restless and ugly.
But Damien never gave it more than that. Fangs. Claws. An ache under his skin. He wasn't a mutt, and he wasn't about to lose control. Not tonight. Not ever.
Across from him, Logan wasn't so lucky.
It started with the tremors in his arms. Then the low guttural sounds ripping from his throat. His head snapped back as his body jerked, bones shifting beneath his skin with a series of sickening cracks. His breath turned to snarls, then roars, animalistic and raw.
The chains groaned, scraping against the stone pillar as Logan strained forward, teeth bared.
"Easy there, Lassie," Damien muttered, pushing off the wall. His eyes flickered gold, then red, then back again, betraying the strain of the full moon. "Don't shred my chains before the opening act."
Logan roared, the sound echoing like thunder in the cave. His eyes flashed molten black before deepening, darker, blood-hot red. His veins bulged, his muscles flexing until the chains screamed.
The crack of snapping iron echoed. One chain gave way, then another.
Damien stood still, waiting, arms loose at his sides. He'd seen this before. The frenzy. The rage. The complete loss of control. It was a nightmare, yes, but not one that scared him anymore.
Logan's growls shook the cavern as his body broke free, his spine arching, limbs distorting. Fur tore through skin in patches as claws raked against stone, sparks flying with each strike.
Then, with one final wrench, the last chain shattered.
The wolf landed heavy on all fours—massive, vicious, eyes burning red with hunger and fury. Logan was gone. Only the beast remained.
Damien tilted his head, flexing his claws. "Alright," he muttered, a dangerous smirk tugging at his lips. "Here we go."
The wolf lunged.
Damien moved, faster than human eyes could follow. He sidestepped the snapping jaws, claws flashing as he slashed across the wolf's flank. Blood splattered the stone, hot and metallic, but the beast barely flinched. It spun, snarling, swiping with paws the size of sledgehammers.
Damien blocked one, his claws locking against Logan's. The impact rattled his bones, forcing him back a step.
"Damn, you've been working out," Damien grunted, teeth bared in a half-snarl, half-smile. He shoved him back, only for Logan to crash forward again, a juggernaut of rage.
They collided, claws against claws, teeth snapping inches from Damien's throat. The wolf's sheer size and brute force made the ground quake as they slammed into the cave wall, stone cracking.
Damien ducked, drove his knee into the wolf's ribs, then shoved him hard to the dirt. The beast twisted, rolled, and came up swinging, snarls echoing like war drums.
Damien spat blood, grinning like a devil. "You're really in a mood tonight."
The wolf came again. Damien didn't retreat. He met him head-on, claws flashing, every strike ringing out in the cave like steel on steel. The air filled with the stench of sweat, blood, and something wilder—the essence of the hunt.
Each time Logan surged for the exit, Damien was there, cutting him off, throwing him back, no matter how hard he hit. This wasn't a fight Damien could win in the usual sense. He wasn't trying to.
He was trying to keep his best friend caged.
And that was the only thing keeping him on his feet.
"Stay. Down." Damien snarled, his fangs bared as he slammed the wolf into the cave floor, pinning him with brute force, claws digging into fur. The beast thrashed beneath him, stronger, angrier, desperate for blood.
But Damien's red eyes glowed brighter now, his hybrid nature flaring, refusing to bend.
"Not tonight," he growled. "You're not leaving this cave."
The wolf roared, snapping its jaws at his throat.
Damien snarled right back.
The cave became a battlefield of echoing fury—chains broken, claws raking stone, and Damien fighting to keep the beast contained, no matter how much blood it cost him.
***********************
The cave was chaos.
Damien's blood streaked the floor, mingling with wolf prints, claw gouges, and shattered stone. His chest rose and fell hard, every inhale searing his lungs. His claws were caked in crimson, his leather jacket torn to ribbons, his ribs screaming with each move.
Logan wasn't giving him a moment. Not one.
The wolf slammed into him again, throwing Damien into the pillar where the chains had been anchored. Stone cracked, dust falling like ash. He coughed, spat blood, wiped it from his mouth with the back of his hand, and laughed.
"Damn it, Collins," he rasped. "You really do need therapy."
The beast roared back at him, deafening. Its breath was hot and wild, dripping with saliva, eyes burning red like molten coals.
Then it came again.
Damien's body moved on instinct. Duck. Slash. Shove. His claws raked across the wolf's shoulder, drawing a howl, but the blow that followed sent him sprawling across the dirt. His body hit the ground hard, his vision flashing white.
For a moment, just a breath, he stayed down. The full moon burned through his veins, pressing claws against his skin, aching for release. He could feel his own wolf side scratching at the walls inside him, begging to be let out.
But no.
Damien pushed up, slow, bloody, a grin twisting his mouth despite the copper in his teeth. His eyes glowed crimson, sharp and cutting through the dark like blades.
The wolf lunged.
And Damien met him, one last time.
Claws locked. Teeth snapping. The two forces slammed into each other with bone-shaking impact. Damien drove his forehead against the wolf's skull, stars exploding in his own vision, but it bought him a second—a single second—to twist, flip the beast, and drive him down to the ground.
The floor cracked under the weight.
Damien pinned him there, blood dripping down his jaw, his arms trembling from the effort, but he held. His claws dug deep into the wolf's shoulders, not enough to kill, but enough to keep him rooted.
Logan thrashed, roared, snapped, every muscle straining to tear free.
Damien leaned close, his voice a low snarl.
"Stay. The hell. Down."
The wolf roared again, but this time—this time—it didn't break free.
The rage still burned, but slowly, agonizingly, the thrashing slowed. The howls turned into guttural growls, then harsh, ragged breaths. The red glow in his eyes dimmed back to gold, then flickered again, like dying embers.
Minutes dragged like hours.
And then—finally—the beast went still beneath him.
Damien collapsed sideways, rolling onto his back, gasping for breath. His body screamed with pain, every nerve lit up, every muscle torn. Blood soaked his shirt, trickling from his lip, his brow, his side. His claws retracted slowly, fangs aching as they slid back into place.
The moon still burned, but its fire was waning.
Beside him, Logan lay in the dirt, half-wolf, half-man, caught somewhere between the two forms. His chest heaved with exhaustion, fur slick with sweat and blood, his hands twitching as if the anger still hadn't fully left. His eyes closed, his body finally surrendering to the weight of the night.
The cave was silent now. Silent except for the ragged, broken breaths of two boys who'd survived another full moon.
Damien laughed, weakly, the sound dry and bitter as it echoed off the stone walls. He covered his eyes with his bloodied hand, grinning through the pain.
"That was fun."
He turned his head, eyes burning as he stared at the motionless wolf beside him. His voice dropped, softer, almost human.
"You're a pain in my ass, Logan. But I've got you."
The silence answered him. Heavy. Final.
Damien exhaled, his body sinking into the dirt floor, the smell of blood and dust thick in the air. He didn't care. He couldn't move even if he wanted to.