THALIA's Unbecoming From Killer Into A Cancer Luna

THALIA’S POV They say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but in the Great North, if you don’t judge a wolf by its eyes, you’re already a corpse. I suppose the werewolf hierarchy is a real eye-opener, though for someone like me, the view is usually from the bottom of a shallow grave. This was a bad idea. I knew it the second I stepped into the neon-soaked air of the club, the scent of cheap gin and desperate sweat clinging to my skin like a second layer of camouflage. This wasn’t me. I was the girl who lived in the margins, the one who blended into the grey brick of the city to avoid being noticed by the world. But right now, I didn’t care. I was tired of being the ghost in the room. I was tired of the silence that followed me like a curse. The music was thrumming in my veins and blood rushed up to my ears as I swayed carelessly. I wanted the bass to be so loud that I couldn’t hear the quiet, pathetic whispers of the wolf at the back of my mind. She had been quiet all night, a tiny, suppressed spark that had been muffled by years of hiding. Usually, she spoke to me, a constant hum of instinct. Tonight, the baby girl was silent, pouting because she had warned me not to go out. She wanted me to stay locked in my room, safe and invisible. But I didn’t listen. I was tired of being a monk. I just wanted to feel something. I just wanted to get laid. Strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against a hard plane of abs. The sudden contact made me stumble, my heart skipping a beat as I turned to see a man standing there. Dark watchful eyes, a smirk cutting across his handsome face and brown hair falling across his forehead. “Who are you?” I drawled, still tipsy from the glasses I had taken at the counter. I hadn’t had much to drink. I was definitely okay. I had only downed two glasses. Okay, maybe three. Or four. I had lost count as the flashing strobe lights made the numbers bleed together into a blur of violet and gold. My vision blurred and my stomach churned, but I struggled to remain steady, letting the stranger twirl me around the packed crowd. The heat between us was rising, a thick, cloying thing that made the air feel heavy “Just someone who’s been watching you,” He rasped, drawing me closer until my chest was pressed against his. A smirk pulled at my lips and I grinded against him, n*****s pebbling under my shirt as I wrapped my hands around his neck. “Oh really?” He was handsome. I wasn’t going to deny that. And I just wanted to feel something different for once. I wanted to forget the “Rules of the North.” I wanted to forget that my very existence was a crime. His hard hands roamed my waist, grip tightening around me. “Hm… come here.” His head dipped as his breath brushed against my neck, sending a whimper up my throat. Shit. That felt so good. I should leave before I make any bad decisions. I should run back to my apartment and lock the door. But before I could think of anything, his tongue darted out, tracing down the sensitive part of my neck and I could swear that my knees knocked together. “Oh—” I tipped my head to the side with a gasp, the sound swallowed by the thump of the music. His fingers reached for the front of my shirt, tugging at the hem as it slid under the fabric. His skin was hot, too hot, like he was burning from the inside out. Fuck. “You’re so pretty… Let me take care of you tonight…” He drawled, biting and nibbling at my skin as his thumb traced mindless circles at my flesh. My panties were pooling and my p***y ached with want. My mind was a mess of hormones and alcohol, a dangerous cocktail that was drowning out my common sense. Get away from this man, Thalia. My mind screamed, but another part of me wanted to know what would happen if I let go of all my rules. I wanted to be a normal girl, not a fugitive hiding behind a pair of gold lenses. “What’s your name?” I pulled away, slightly dazed. If I was going to do something stupid, I might as well know his name. Something akin to surprise flashed in his eyes. Then hesitation. A flicker of something dark and calculated. “Paul.” He hesitated. Why did he hesitate at his own name? Something gnawed at my stomach and I suddenly felt the need to get the hell away. The heat in the room felt suffocating, and the music felt like it was drilling holes into my skull. He was hiding something. “What?” His gaze was dark as he stared down at me. Almost crazed. Like he was looking at a prize he had spent years tracking down. That snapped me out of it. I pulled away, unease prickling down my spine like a thousand tiny needles. “I uh—I’m sorry, I need some air.” Without waiting for him to answer, I scrambled away, pushing past the crowd as I rushed to the bathroom. My heart was thumping so frantically—a warning I should have listened to an hour ago. It was empty save for a woman who left after taking one look at my pale face. I was a total mess. My hair stuck out in weird angles, my face pale as I hunched over the basin, gripping the cold surface tight. My knuckles were white against the porcelain. Shit. I needed to get home. I needed to crawl into bed and wait for the world to stop shaking. My fingers trembled as I splashed icy water on my face, trying to calm the burning sensation of my skin. Who was he? It almost felt like… he had come to me on purpose. A sudden knock on the bathroom door jerked me out of my thoughts. My ears perked up, the tiny, suppressed wolf in my chest finally stirring, her hackles rising in a way that made my skin crawl. The door creaked open. A tanned man with a gleam in his eyes I didn’t like stepped in first. He looked at me with a sickening familiarity, a predatory grin stretching across his face. “What are you doing? This is the ladies’ room!” I barked, but he just kept coming. Then, Paul stepped in behind him. I let out a ragged breath, a wave of relief washing over me. “Paul! Thank God. This guy—he’s bothering me—" But Paul didn’t move to help me. He simply reached back and locked the door with a slow, deliberate click. I froze. They weren’t strangers. They were a team. “What are you doing here?” My voice was hoarse. Paul chuckled, his eyes cold and hungry. “I was hoping we’d have a little talk. After all this time… we’ve found you.” My heart literally stopped. The air in the bathroom turned to ice. Found me? I didn’t know these men, but I knew I was a rabbit in a corner. “Stay back!” I yelled, reaching for a plunger, but a hand slammed into my ribs, knocking air out of my lungs. The pain was explosive, blinding me for a second. My brain flew into flight or fight mode as strong arms pulled me up and an elbow wrapped around my neck, tightening. I couldn’t breathe. The world was turning black at the edges. No. This wasn’t how I wanted to die. Definitely not in a f*****g bathroom. I clawed and scratched, kicking at my agitator, but he was like stone. The other man laughed, the sound echoing in my head as my muscles started getting limp. I felt the strength draining from my limbs, my suppressed wolf whimpering in the back of my mind, too weak to save us. “Don’t fight it. You can’t run forever.” My eyes widened just as something surged within me—a brief burst of power. It wasn’t the wolf. It was something deeper, ancient and violent. A white-hot roar of energy erupted from my chest, shattering the grip on my throat. I wasn’t sure what happened. I could barely comprehend it. The world blurred into a flash of light and the sound of tearing flesh. But when I came to my senses, I was standing over two mangled bodies. The floor was pooling with blood, the smell of iron and salt thick enough to taste. A stifled scream tore from my throat. My fingers trembled as I saw the blood on my sweater. I didn’t do that. I couldn’t have done that. My stomach twisted as I stood over the bodies. Paul—or whoever he was—lay there with his throat opened up, eyes staring at the ceiling in a permanent state of shock. Words from my childhood rang in my head: They will find you later. Just stay low. Don’t do anything stupid. Fuck! They had found me. My past had caught up with me. Yes, I, Thalia Thorne, held a secret. I wasn’t human. I was born into the wrong part of the hierarchy. In the Great North, your eyes are your destiny. Gold eyes are Gemini—the royalty. Blue eyes are Capricorn—the servants. But then there are the ones like me. A dark-eyed cub with a cancer mark—an abomination. Black eyes. The ones who didn’t get to live. In our world, black eyes were an omen of death. Cancers were supposed to be killed the moment they were born. My parents had hidden me in the city, hiding the void in my sockets behind gold contacts. It had been easy for years, but staring at the mess on the floor, I realized I had accidentally lit a signal fire. If these two found me, more would follow. And I might not be this lucky. I hurriedly washed my hands, cleaned myself up, and dashed out through the back door. The alcohol was gone, replaced by a cold, sharp clarity. I would leave the city. I’d disappear into the wind. They would never get me. I would make sure of that, but first I needed to settle some things.