Losing Control.
1361 Words
Chapter Three:
Harold’s POV
“s**t,” I muttered.
Her body convulsed once, then again. Her bones cracked and then her breathing turned into short, harsh gasps.
I’d seen wolves lose control before but this wasn’t a normal shift.
Her skin covered itself with silver fur, her eyes rolled back, and then she let out a sound that didn’t belong to anything human.
A deep, guttural roar tore through the yard, shaking the ground beneath my feet.
I gripped my sword, steady.
“Damn it,” I said under my breath. “You should’ve stayed down.”
The creature lunged. I rolled to the side, the dirt spraying as her claws tore through where I’d just been standing.
She hit hard, spun, and came at me again. I met her with the flat of the blade, the impact sending a jolt up my arm.
She was strong… stronger than any new wolf had a right to be. Every swing of my sword was met with raw force, no strategy, no hesitation. Just fury.
“You’re not thinking,” I said, dodging another strike. “You’re just burning out.”
She snarled, teeth bared, and I moved in… fast and precise. One strike to the leg, another across the shoulder.
It was enough to hurt but not to kill.
Still, she didn’t stop.
I stepped back, raising my sword. I could end it now. One clean cut. She wouldn’t even feel it.
But then I heard her cry, as if trying to gain her consciousness back. .
“…Yvonne… I have to save Yvonne…”
My grip faltered. Just for a second.
The name hit me like a stone to the chest. I stared at her as she battled with her wolf form.
No. It couldn’t be.
I lowered the blade a fraction, jaw tight.
“Yvonne,” I repeated under my breath.
The creature stumbled, the light flickering around her body. She was slipping between forms.
I moved in, fast.
The sword handle came down hard against her neck, right on the nerve. She dropped instantly, limp in the dirt.
I stood over her for a long moment, breathing steady. The yard was silent again, except for the echo of that one name running through my head.
Yvonne.
I sheathed my sword and crouched beside her. The glow was fading from her skin. She looked human again…. bruised, shaking, but breathing.
“What the hell are you?” I muttered.
But deep down, I already knew the answer.
I dragged her into the hut, one arm under her shoulders, careful not to open the wounds I’d already given her. She was lighter than she looked.
The cot creaked as I laid her down. For a while I just stood there, staring.
Her breathing was shallow but steady. The silver tint that had burned across her skin was gone now, leaving only sweat and dirt.
I cleaned my sword, wiped the blood from my sleeve, and sat on the edge of the table. The silence in the room pressed against my ears.
“What are you,” I said under my breath.
A silver wolf. That’s what she looked like. But was it then the same kind that haunted the stories people refused to tell out loud…. And if that’s the case…
I rubbed a hand over my face, waving away the thought.
I should’ve killed her. That was the rule. Any wolf that lost control died before it could spread the curse.
But then she’d said Yvonne.
The name kept echoing, scraping at something I’d buried a long time ago.
I looked back at the girl. She couldn’t be older than her mid-twenties.
When she arrived yesterday, there was mud on her boots, bandages wrapped tight around one wrist and her clothes torn from travel. Whoever she was, she’d been running for a while.
And I didn’t even know her name.
A quiet bitter laugh slipped out “Good job, Harold. You almost took her head off, and you don’t even know who she is.”
Guilt sat heavy in my chest, not because I’d fought her, but because I’d hesitated. I never hesitated.
I reached for a rag, dipped it in the water bucket, and wiped the blood from her face. A thin scar ran along her temple. She flinched even in her sleep.
“You’re a mess,” I muttered. “Whatever you’re chasing, it’s going to kill you.”
She stirred. Her breathing quickened, then her fingers twitched like she was fighting something in her dreams.
Then her eyes opened.
For a second they looked normal then the light from the cracks caught them, and I saw a faint trace of silver deep inside the gray.
She tried to sit up, groaning. I held out my hand automatically. “Easy. You passed out in the yard.”
Her gaze darted around the room, confused and wary. “Where am I?”
“My compound,” I said. “You’re lucky I didn’t finish what we started.”
She frowned, trying to piece things together. “I blacked out again?”
“Yeah,” I said, leaning back against the table. “Still trying to figure out why.”
She glanced down, twisting her fingers together. “I thought coming here would help me manage it.”
“Control doesn’t come from showing up,” I said. “It comes from knowing what you’re fighting inside that head of yours.”
She looked up sharply. “You think I don’t know?”
“I think you don’t want to know.”
Silence filled the hut. I could see the flicker of frustration in her eyes, but underneath it there was fear.
She wasn’t just scared of losing control, she was scared of not being able to avenge her sister
“Okay then…” I sighed. “Let’s redo the whole introduction.” I leaned against the table and smiled.
“You came looking for Harold Grainger,” I said finally. “That’s me.”
She smiled faintly “Then you’re exactly who I came for.”
“Why?”
“I need to learn control. My wolf…” she hesitated “....she’s different. When she comes out, I can’t stop her.”
“That much I figured.”
“Can you help me?” she asked quietly.
I studied her face. There was no arrogance there, just exhaustion. A girl who’d been fighting a losing battle for too long.
“Maybe,” I said. “Depends how badly you want it.”
“Badly enough to survive it.”
I let out a slow breath and looked away. “You should’ve been dead after what happened out there. Most wolves would’ve torn themselves apart.”
“Then why am I not?” she asked.
“Beats me,” I said, though the lie sat heavy in my throat.
I turned toward the table, grabbed a rag, and handed it to her. “Clean yourself up. You’re bleeding.”
She took it, her fingers brushing mine for a second.
For some reason, that small contact hit harder than it should’ve. I stepped back quickly, clearing my throat.
“Look,” I said, quieter now. “I pushed too far today. That was on me.”
She blinked at me, surprised. “You’re apologizing?”
“Don’t get used to it,” I muttered. “Just… I shouldn’t have gone that far.”
Her gaze softened. “You were doing what you thought you had to.”
“Maybe,” I said, then sighed. “Still doesn’t make it right.”
I started for the door, stopping halfway. “Before I forget… what’s your name?”
“Brielle,” she said after a moment.
I nodded slowly. “Brielle.”
“And you’re Harold,” she added.
“Unfortunately.”
The corner of her mouth lifted.
“Get some rest,” I said. “We’ll start again tomorrow. Try not to turn my compound into rubble this time.”
“No promises.”
I almost smiled at that, then pushed the door open and stepped out into the cool night air.
- Writer
