The Wolves Don't Ask

Chapter 3

Irina told herself she wasn’t following Mara.

She framed it differently in her head, walking the long way home, curiosity sharpened by coincidence, observation as habit rather than intent. The city made excuses easy. Streets folded into one another, especially near the docks, where fog erased edges and distance felt unreliable.

Still, when she spotted Mara’s jacket ahead of her, dark against the mist, her pulse quickened.

Mara moved with purpose, not hurried but efficient, weaving through narrow streets as if she knew exactly where the shadows pooled deepest. She didn’t look back. That alone made Irina uneasy. Most people glanced over their shoulders in places like this. Mara didn’t need to.

Irina kept her distance. She knew how to do that, how to become part of the background. Years in the emergency ward had taught her how to watch without being noticed, how to read bodies from afar. The way someone carried their weight. The rhythm of their steps.

Mara’s gait was smooth, balanced. Too controlled. Even on uneven pavement slick with moisture, she never stumbled.

The fog thickened as they neared the water. Sounds dulled—the distant horns, the slap of waves against concrete. Irina’s shoes whispered against the ground, and she slowed, suddenly aware of how loud she felt.

Mara turned down an alley that ran parallel to the docks.

Irina hesitated.

This was the moment to stop. To turn back, go home, sleep, forget the scars and the steady pulse and the way Mara’s eyes had sharpened at the mention of incidents.

Instead, she followed.

The alley opened into a wider stretch near an abandoned warehouse. Lights flickered overhead, one of them broken, stuttering on and off like a nervous tic. Irina ducked behind a stack of crates just as voices rose nearby.

Two men emerged from the far end of the dock, their silhouettes loose and aggressive. Drunk, maybe. Or just bored in the way boredom sometimes curdled into cruelty.

Mara was between them and the open street.

Irina’s breath caught.

She expected Mara to run. To retreat. To freeze.

She did none of those things.

Mara stopped walking and turned slowly to face them. Her posture shifted, subtle, but unmistakable. Her shoulders squared. Her weight settled evenly. The casual guard dropped away, replaced by something alert and coiled.

One of the men laughed. “Lost, sweetheart?”

Irina’s stomach clenched.

Mara didn’t answer.

The second man stepped closer. Too close. He reached out-

What happened next unfolded too fast for Irina to fully process.

Mara moved.

She twisted sideways, catching the man’s wrist and using his own momentum to send him stumbling forward. It wasn’t flashy. It was efficient. Controlled. The kind of movement born from repetition, not panic.

The first man swore and lunged.

Mara ducked, pivoted, and shoved him back hard enough that he crashed into a railing. Metal rang out sharply, echoing through the fog.

Irina pressed a hand to her mouth.

This wasn’t luck. It wasn’t desperation. It was skill.

Mara stepped back, breathing evenly, eyes bright and focused. She looked almost… annoyed. Like this had interrupted something.

“Go,” she said quietly.

The men didn’t argue. They staggered away, muttering curses, disappearing into the haze.

Mara stood alone for a moment, shoulders rising and falling once, twice. Then she rubbed her hand over her face and turned slightly-

Straight toward Irina’s hiding place.

Irina’s heart slammed into her ribs.

She ducked lower, pulse roaring in her ears. She could feel it now, unmistakably, the heat of being seen, even if no eyes had landed on her yet. The fog pressed in, thick and damp, clinging to her skin.

Footsteps approached. Slow. Deliberate.

Irina held her breath.

“Might as well come out,” Mara said calmly. “You’re not invisible.”

Irina stood.

There was no point pretending now. She stepped into the weak pool of light, hands visible, posture neutral. Not defensive. Not aggressive.

Mara studied her, eyes narrowing slightly. “You followed me.”

Irina didn’t deny it. “I was concerned.”

“That’s a lie.”

Irina swallowed. “I was curious.”

Mara’s mouth twitched. “That’s more dangerous.”

They stood a few feet apart, fog curling between them like a living thing. Up close, Mara looked different, sharper somehow. Alive with something restless beneath her skin.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Mara said.

“Neither should you.”

A pause. Then, unexpectedly, Mara laughed under her breath. “You always this bad at minding your own business, Irina?”

“You always this good at avoiding answers?”

Their gazes locked. Something charged passed between them, not warmth, not comfort, but recognition. A shared awareness of standing too close to something that could bite.

Mara stepped back first. “Go home.”

Irina hesitated. “What you did back there-"

“Was none of your business.”

“But it wasn’t normal.”

Mara’s eyes darkened. For a moment, Irina thought she might lash out. Instead, Mara turned away.

“Forget what you saw,” she said. “If you’re smart.”

She walked off, vanishing into the fog with the same quiet certainty she’d arrived with.

Irina stood there long after she was gone, heart still racing, mind burning with questions she already knew wouldn’t leave her alone.

She’d seen it now. Not just hints or scars, but proof.

Mara wasn’t ordinary.

And worse, Irina hadn’t felt fear the way she should have.

She’d felt exhilaration. Awe. A strange, intimate thrill at watching someone move like that, exist like that, just beyond the rules everyone else obeyed.

As she finally turned back toward the city, Irina knew one thing with uncomfortable clarity:

Whatever Mara was, whatever she was hiding, Irina was already tangled in it.

And there was no pretending otherwise.