chapter 8
971 Words
Marcus pov
Dinner was halfway done when Aria finally said it.
They were seated across from each other at the small kitchen table. One overhead light. Too bright. He had cooked too much again. Rice. Stew. Bread she barely touched.
“I might have a friend over,” Aria said.
Marcus paused with his fork in his hand.
“A friend,” he repeated.
“Yeah.” She kept her eyes on her plate. “Her name’s Lena. We share a class.”
He set the fork down. Not hard. Not slow. Just enough to mark the moment.
“When?” he asked.
“Friday. Maybe.” She glanced up. “She mentioned a sleepover.”
Marcus leaned back in his chair.
“Where does she live?”
“Near school. She takes the bus.”
“Last name?”
“Morales.”
He nodded once.
She noticed anyway.
“You’re doing that thing again,” Aria said. “The quiet staring.”
“I’m listening.”
“No, you’re inspecting.”
He almost smiled. Almost.
“Do you like her?” he asked instead.
“Yes,” Aria said quickly. “She’s… normal.”
That word again.
Marcus stood and carried his plate to the sink. The water ran. Too loud in the small kitchen.
“Friday,” he said. “We’ll talk about it.”
Aria relaxed. “Okay.”
She gathered her plate and followed him to the sink, bumping his shoulder lightly as she passed.
“Good night,” she said.
“Good night.”
He waited until her footsteps faded upstairs. Until her door closed. Until the house settled into its familiar quiet.
Only then did he breathe out.
He moved through the house on instinct checking locks, windows, the back door. Everything was where it should be.
Still, something itched under his skin.
He stepped outside and let the door shut behind him without care.
The woods greeted him immediately.
The shift came fast. Efficient. Muscle and bone folding into something older. The pain flared and passed like it always did—familiar enough to be ignored.
When it was done, he stood still, listening.
Then he reached out.
Not a howl. Not a call meant for many.
A single thread.
You need to meet me.
The response came after a pause.
Where.
The clearing.
Marcus didn’t wait.
He moved through the forest with purpose, paws striking earth and stone. The night was cool, sharp. Alive with movement he ignored.
Ethan was already there when Marcus arrived. Human again. Jacket draped over a fallen log. Arms crossed, posture alert.
“You don’t do this lightly,” Ethan said.
“No,” Marcus replied. He shifted back and pulled on his clothes without ceremony.
Ethan watched him. “What’s wrong.”
Marcus met his eyes. “I caught a scent on her.”
Ethan’s expression didn’t change. But his attention sharpened.
“How strong?”
“It wasn’t,” Marcus said. “That’s the problem.”
Silence stretched.
“You’re sure it wasn’t residual,” Ethan said carefully.
“I know the difference.”
Ethan looked away toward the trees. Jaw tight. “School puts people close.”
“Not like that.”
Another pause.
“You didn’t confront anyone,” Ethan said.
“No.”
“Good.”
Marcus stiffened. “That’s not reassurance.”
“It’s survival,” Ethan replied. “You know better than most what happens when lines are crossed too early.”
Marcus exhaled slowly. “She asked about a sleepover.”
Ethan blinked. “That’s it?”
“It’s not nothing.”
“With who?”
“A girl. Morales.”
Ethan’s shoulders eased slightly. “That one’s harmless.”
Marcus studied him. “You’re certain.”
“She has a sharp nose,” Ethan said. “Nothing else.”
Marcus absorbed that.
“And the scent?” he pressed.
Ethan didn’t answer immediately.
“That presence moves where it wants,” he said finally. “It doesn’t explain itself.”
Marcus clenched his hands. “Then why was it near her.”
Ethan met his gaze. “Because something drew it there.”
The words sat heavy between them.
“You’re not telling me everything,” Marcus said.
Ethan shook his head. “Because I don’t know everything.”
That answer was worse.
“Keep her close,” Ethan said. “Don’t let her feel watched.”
“And if she already is?”
Ethan didn’t respond.
He stepped back, signaling the end of it. “If that presence becomes careless, I’ll know.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
Ethan hesitated.
“Then you won’t,” he said.
He turned and disappeared into the trees.
Marcus stayed when he was long after.
When he finally returned home, the house was dark. Quiet. Safe for now.
He stopped outside Aria’s door. Listened to her breathing.
Steady.
Unaware.
His hand lifted, then fell.
Careful, he reminded himself.
Always careful.
Aria is surviving here atleast he thought to himself this new friend might bring some normalcy but she needs a warning and he'll give it to her
whoever hurts his little girl would directly face him.hr just prays that she shouldn't be attached so after settling everything she would be able to leave as planned and thankfully that smell did not seem to come in contact with her today he shouldn't feel relieved yet but he did Damien is a good alpha better than his father who was currently ruling but he doesn't trust him with his daughter although he has a clean reputation every one thinks he's gay with the day he stays away from the opposite gender but a human and a werewolf is never a good thing and Aria is a sign of that or so he believed
- Writer
