Elara's POV
A week passed. The city moved on, everyone did, but I…I was stuck, trapped in the echo of his growl and the ghost of his touch.
I was deeply caged in the memory of us. I was a mess of conflicting emotions, a gnawing sense of betrayal that warred with the memory of the torment in his eyes, longing and terror.
I jumped at shadows, seeing flashes of movement in every reflective surface. Paranoia had become my constant companion, my closest relative.
"They're hunting me, Elara."
His voice, a rough scrape in the dark of my apartment. I whirled around, my heart going into my throat. I could feel the heavy sound of my heart loudly.
He stood on my balcony, a silhouette against the city's glow, drenched from a sudden downpour. His eyes burning with an unsteady fire. He looked more like a cornered animal.
My hand flew to my chest. "Who are they?"
"Marek. His men. They're not just police. They're hunters. Fanatics. And wouldn't allow my type be."
He didn't move to step in, as if he was afraid of contaminating my space, as if his very presence was a stain.
"The Hunter's Moon is rising. It beckons to the beast inside, much louder every night. I can't… I can't fight it forever. It's like a high fever in my blood." His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, the knuckles white.
I was yet to open my mouth when I received a thunderous knock at my door. Hard. Demanding. Repeating the three-part rhythm I'd come to recognize as a knock of judgment.
My blood stopped flowing and turned to ice. Lucian's eyes flashed a warning gold, and he melted into the deep shadows of my bedroom, blending in perfectly with the darkness.
I walked to the door, my heart loudly hitting as if it might burst from my chest, fear written boldly across every inch of me. I cracked the door open.
Detective Marek stood there, his gaze sweeping my apartment as if looking for secrets in the room.
"Has he been here?" No greeting. Just the cold, hard question.
"No," I lied, my voice thin and reedy. I was a terrible liar, and he knew it.
"He's a killer, Miss Voss." Marek's voice was low and relentless. He pushed the door open a little wider, forcing me to take back a step.
"If you protect him, you're complicit. You're just no better than him." He came more closer, his presence filling the small entryway.
"The next full moon is tomorrow night. People will die. He will kill again. Help me prevent him from doing so. Hand him over to me, and you walk away. Protect him, and I promise you'll share his fate."
He left his card on the small table by the door. A promise and a threat, printed together on cheap cardstock. A death sentence in bold font.
I closed the door, locking it with both trembling hands and body, and leaned against it, trying hard to gain my breath. When I turned, there was Lucian again, coming out from the shadows.
The rain had plastered his black hair to his forehead, and he looked more vulnerable than I'd ever seen him before, his face a mask of pure torment. The powerful Alpha existed no more, and there was a man facing his own execution.
"He's totally right," Lucian said, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I am a killer. The moon… it doesn't just call, it commands. It takes control, and the world turns red. I wake up with the taste of copper in my mouth and no single memory of what I've done."
He looked at me, his eyes begging for understanding, or maybe for condemnation.
"The body from last week… I don't know if it was me. And that's the cruel part of it all. The not knowing. The waking up and praying it wasn't you, but feeling the ghost of the victim in your muscles."
The confession pierced my heart. This wasn't a monster reveling in his nature; it was a man drowning in it, a man dying in pain of what he is, a man who hated the creature he was forced to become.
My fear began to transform into something else, something fiercer. Pity. Empathy. A desperate need to save him from himself.
"Then I'll help you fight it," I said, stepping towards him, my own fear forgotten in the face of his profound pain.
"You can't!" he roared, his control betraying him.
The air around him glimmered, a heat haze of raw power. A vase on my windowsill vibrated, softly making a ringing.
"You don't understand! You're a candle trying to hold back a hurricane! A wolf can't fight the moon! It's in my blood, my bones! It's who I am!"
"Then I'll stand between you and it!" I yelled back, tears of frustration, confusion and fear streaming down my face.
I was crying for him, for the pain he carried alone, for the impossible choice he faced every single month.
"I'm not leaving you! You don't get to push me away to save me either! That's not your choice to make! My life is my choice! I do what I want"
Then he looked at me, all the fight draining out of him, replaced by a soul-deep, devastating sorrow. He closed the distance between us in an immediate single, silent step.
He reached out to my face, his hand cupping my cheek, his thumb wiping away a tear. His touch was undeniably gentle, a stark contrast to the storm he contained.
"You stubborn, beautiful, foolish human," he whispered, his voice so thick with an emotion that left my heart wide open. "You're going to get yourself killed for me."
I collapsed into his touch, my own hand covering his, holding it against my face.
"Then we die together," I said softly, with my voice now stable and sure. "But we don't surrender. We don't let him win." I nodded towards the door, towards Marek's card. "And we don't let the moon win either."
He rested his forehead on mine, our breath mingling together, and in the quietness of my apartment, with the hunter's card on the table and the moon rising outside, we made a silent promise.
We were in this together, to the bitter end.
Man and woman against the world, against the moon, against the beast within, against the pain and sorrow. It was a terrifying thought. But for the first time since my parents died, I didn't feel all alone.