The Wolfless Luna

The Council receptionist had stamped REJECTED across the corner of my application before I reached the lift. I knew because the ink was still wet when I pulled the folder open in the lobby. For a building devoted to law and procedure, the Werewolf Council had found a remarkably efficient way to tell people like me that procedure only mattered when it worked in their favour. I stood beneath the security arch and read the same sentence I had been reading in different forms for seven years. Candidate does not satisfy required Wolf-capability standards for Council appointment. The woman behind the security desk watched me with the polite discomfort people usually reserved for public arguments and medical emergencies. I closed the folder before she could decide which category I belonged to. Above her, a digital board displayed the day’s committee meetings: territory appeals, medical funding, Pack migration, election compliance. Every subject affected people I knew. None of the committees discussing them had ever wanted someone like me in the room. The security arch chimed as an Alpha passed through. His identification badge flashed gold. Mine had flashed grey. Not dangerous. Not important. Not quite one of them. I pushed through the revolving doors and stepped into the afternoon glare. Mia was waiting on a stone planter outside, one heel dangling from her toes. Her interview jacket was folded beside her, which told me hers had gone no better than mine. “Please say they hated your personality,” I said. She looked up. “Apparently my personality wasn’t the problem.” “Shame. Mine usually is.” That earned half a smile. I sat beside her and held out my rejection letter. She passed me hers in return. The wording was almost identical. “They asked for your Wolf classification?” “They asked me to shift.” I looked at her. “In the interview?” “Right beside the conference table. One of them said they needed to make sure Lila could tolerate pressure from senior-ranking wolves.” “You applied for records analysis.” “I know.” “Did you point out that records rarely bite?” “I considered it.” Mia’s Wolf, Lila, had awakened when we were sixteen. She was small, pale brown and so low in dominance that most high-ranking wolves barely registered her. The Council treated that as a defect. Employers treated it as a warning. I had never had even that much. At eighteen, every member of my graduating class had shifted except me. Seven years of tests had found no reason. The Council simply called me wolfless and moved on. Mia tipped her head back toward the mirrored tower. “How many is that now?” “Thirty-two.” She groaned. “You kept count?” “Somebody should document institutional consistency.” A campaign banner rippled above the main entrance. STRENGTH BUILDS STABILITY. I disliked it immediately. “That’s the problem,” I said. Mia followed my gaze. “Bad typography?” “That too. But mostly that everyone keeps using strength when they mean worth.” That was why I wanted the Council. Not because I wanted a grand office or an embossed badge. I wanted to sit in rooms where laws were written by people who had never been rejected from a job because their Wolf was too weak to impress an interviewer. I wanted one chance to make them argue with my mind instead of my biology. “We could apply again next intake,” I said. Mia stared at me. “We’ve failed thirty or forty times already. When will we ever succeed?” “When they run out of reasons to reject us.” “You realise normal people hear thirty-two and reconsider their life choices.” “I reconsider mine daily. Then I make coffee.” Her mouth twitched, but the humour faded quickly. She began picking at the corner of her rejection letter. I knew that habit. “What?” “Nothing.” “Mia.” She folded the paper in half. “You have the face.” “What face?” “The one you had before we climbed onto the university roof because you were convinced someone’s cat was trapped up there.” “The cat was trapped.” “It belonged to the dean and had its own door.” “We didn’t know that.” I waited. Mia sighed. “I heard about something.” “No.” “I haven’t told you what it is.” “Your tone already committed a crime.” She glanced around the plaza before lowering her voice. “There’s a seller operating out of the Hollow.” My amusement disappeared. The Hollow was one of those places everyone knew and nobody admitted knowing. Officially it was a members’ club near the old river district. Unofficially, it was where wealthy wolves went when they wanted something Pack law discouraged them from buying. “What seller?” “A potion.” I stared at her. “Don’t do that.” “What does the potion supposedly do?” “Stimulates dormant Wolf bonds. Strengthens weak ones.” I closed my eyes briefly. “Mia.” “I know what you’re going to say.” “Excellent. Saves time.” “Elena, just listen. A girl in my training group knows someone whose cousin used it.” “That sentence alone should qualify as a warning label.” Her expression tightened. Then she looked down at her hands. “I’m tired of Lila being treated like an apology. I’m tired of people speaking slowly to me after they scent how weak she is. If there is even a small chance—” “There isn’t.” “You don’t know that.” “Neither do you.” I softened my voice. “People sell miracles to the people who need them most. That doesn’t make the miracles real.” For a few seconds, traffic hissed along the road beyond the plaza. Then Mia said, “I’m going tonight.” I turned slowly. “You what?” “I was going before I told you.” “Alone?” “I hadn’t decided.” “That means yes.” She lifted both hands. “I only want to see it.” “And if the mysterious illegal potion dealer seems trustworthy?” “I won’t drink anything without checking it.” “With what laboratory?” She glared at me. I stared back. The problem with loving Mia was that walking away from one of her bad decisions simply meant she would make it without me. “What time?” Her entire face changed. “Do not smile.” “Seven.” “I’m not agreeing with this. I’m supervising your lapse in judgment.” Three hours later, I stood beside her outside the Hollow and wished I had been less predictable. The building did not look criminal. That unsettled me more than if it had. Black glass doors reflected a row of luxury cars. A discreet brass plaque carried only the club’s name. Men in tailored coats checked invitations beneath warm amber lights. No graffiti. No alleyway transactions. No obvious danger. Just money. The doorman took Mia’s invitation code, then looked at me. His nostrils flared once. There it was. That tiny pause. No Wolf. He handed my identification back without comment, but his eyes stayed on me a fraction too long. Mia’s fingers brushed mine. “We can leave,” I murmured. She looked through the glass doors at the polished interior beyond them. “If we leave, tomorrow is exactly the same.” I wished she were wrong. The doorman opened the door. Mia stepped inside first. I followed her, already cataloguing exits.