ANWEN'S POV
I didn’t run.
Every instinct screamed at me to run—to flee the room, to put as much distance as possible between myself and whatever Fenric was becoming.
But I knew this was a game I could never win. I had seen how fast he moved even without shifting. Running now would only provoke the feral instinct clawing its way to the surface.
So I forced myself to stay still, careful not to make any sudden movements.
Slowly, I inched toward him on trembling hands. “Please,” I whispered, my voice barely holding. “I don’t want to do this.”
I pushed myself up onto my knees and reached for him, my fingers brushing the fur along his arm. I braced for revulsion—but it never came.
Instead, my hand curled around him, grounding, searching for the part of him that still knew me.
“Fenric,” I
