AIDEN
When I leave Claire's apartment, the night air feels thinner than it should.
Not cold. Not sharp. Just insufficient, like my lungs were built for something heavier than oxygen and the world forgot to supply it. The door closes behind me with a final, deliberate click, and my wolf surges immediately, restless and displeased with the distance. He wants to turn around. He wants to go back inside, to close the space we chose to leave unfinished.
I keep walking anyway.
Restraint has never been unfamiliar to me. But this is different.
Before, control was instinctive. Automatic. A reflex sharpened by survival.
Now it's a decision I make every time I look at her. Every time my wolf leans forward and I pull him back not because I have to, but because I choose to.
I know
