Chapter 12: Lies Stitched Under Moonlight
838 Words
Fang Yan’s claws left faint dents in the cold steel of the lab fridge.
The air conditioning hummed too low, the formaldehyde and antiseptic doing little to mask the coppery tang from the bottom drawer—blood samples from three months ago, when a silver dagger had sliced his arm open saving a child from kidnappers.
His knuckles whitened around the handle. The sigil on his neck still burned.
The anonymous text—"Su Qing tampered with the samples"—had been a nail driven into his skull, forcing him to sprint through the storm for half an hour, grinding his silver pendant into his palm just to keep the wolf at bay.
Now, if he could just take these samples, he’d buy himself a few more days before the Observation Bureau caught up.
Click.
The drawer slid open a fraction before rubber soles squeaked behind him.
Fang Yan’s pupils slit into vertical lines, the wolf surging in his veins. He whirled, papers scattering—only to freeze.
Su Qing stood in the doorway, her white coat streaked with dried blood, a flashlight beam catching the police badge at his hip. Her eyes were red-rimmed.
"You were really going to steal these?" Her voice was softer than usual, like thread frayed by rain.
Only then did he notice the metal box at her feet, its lid gaping open. Twelve strange bullet fragments gleamed under the cold light, atop a DNA report fluttering in the draft—its double helix marred by glaring anomalies.
His throat tightened.
Ten years ago, in that orphanage alley, she’d charged at his bullies with a broomstick. Five years ago, when three ribs were shattered during an arrest, she’d stitched him back together with thirty-seven spools of suture thread.
But now her gaze was too bright. Bright enough to scorch him.
"Dr. Su." He forced calm into his voice, the same tone he used with traumatized witnesses. "These samples are classified—"
"Don’t patronize me." She stepped forward, her stethoscope clattering against the table. "The mark on your neck burns before the full moon. The scar on your left wrist heals faster than the right. You reek of iron after night shifts." She thrust her phone at him—a surveillance still from last month, his ears tinged unnatural gray. "Three years. Fifteen blood tests." She slammed the report against his chest. "Your DNA has sequences that activate with lunar cycles. Yan, tell me—are you some kind of experiment?"
Fang Yan’s claws bit into his palms.
The wolf thrashed beneath his skin. He could hear her heartbeat stutter, smell iodine and jasmine in her hair.
Old Fang’s dying words echoed: "Keep Xiao Qing out of this." Five years ago, he’d knelt outside the OR all night, begging fate to spare her adoptive mother after the crash.
Now the words lodged in his throat. All he managed was: "Some things… you shouldn’t know."
Beep—
The smoke detector screeched.
Fang Yan’s ears caught the hiss of burning fuse wire down the hall. He yanked Su Qing behind a counter just as the explosion shattered the windows.
Fire snaked through the vents. An alcohol bottle erupted, glass shards grazing Su Qing’s temple.
"Down!" He shielded her, his back against the wall.
Glass rained on his shoulders. A shard sliced his hand open.
He hissed—then froze at Su Qing’s widening eyes.
His nails were blackening. Gray veins bulged under his skin. Fangs pressed against his lips, casting jagged shadows.
"A-Yan?" Her trembling fingers brushed his face.
When she touched his fangs, he flinched—but she only gripped his jaw harder.
Moonlight cut through the smoke, glinting on her tears. "You’re not a monster… I just wasn’t ready to see all of you."
The wolf inside him stilled.
A whine built in his chest—the sound of a wolf offering trust.
Her warmth seeped through the coat, her familiar antiseptic scent a tether against the beast. He kissed her tears away, fangs retracting before they could nick her skin.
Beep—
The surveillance camera’s red light flared.
Through the smoke, black-coated figures advanced. One aimed a silver-barreled device straight at them.
Fang Yan scooped Su Qing up, bolting for the stairs. The sigil on his neck seared like splitting flesh.
"Fang Yan!" She clung to him, voice breaking. "Who are they?"
"Observation Bureau." He crashed through the fire exit. "They hunt things like me."
Emergency lights flickered in the stairwell.
Fang Yan’s claws gouged the concrete. Su Qing weighed nothing in his arms.
Boots pounded behind them. The stench of silver bullets clogged his nose.
Then his phone buzzed—a message from the precinct: "ER just admitted a critical patient. Wolf claw marks all over."
He faltered.
Su Qing wiped blood from his face with her sleeve. No fear in her eyes—only resolve.
Sirens wailed outside. Shouts echoed.
And in another hospital across town, a nurse screamed into her phone: "Dr. Zhang! The patient’s wounds—they’re healing!"
- Writer
