CHAPTER SEVEN — THE ATTACK
944 Words
The library lights burned low.
Stone walls swallowed sound back here, the narrow path behind the west wing choked with ivy and shadow. Luna’s footsteps echoed too loudly, her arms tight around the stack of borrowed books.
She was almost through the passage when something moved.
Not fast.
Wrong.
Gravel shifted behind her. Breath scraped the dark — wet, uneven, too deep for a person.
Luna turned.
Eyes caught the light first.
Not reflecting.
Holding it.
She stumbled back, books scattering across the ground. The creature unfolded from the shadow near the trees, limbs bending where joints shouldn’t, fur slick and patchy like it had been dragged through thorn and mud.
It took one step.
Luna’s back hit stone.
Her scream broke the silence.
The thing lunged.
A blur struck it from the side.
They hit the ground hard enough to rattle the library windows. Dirt sprayed. Stone cracked. The creature shrieked — thin and broken — as it was driven back, claws carving wild arcs through the air.
Levi stood between them.
Not as he was.
His spine arched violently, fabric tearing as bone shifted beneath skin. Claws burst from his fingers, long and curved, catching lantern light. His eyes burned silver, pupils blown wide as his breath tore in and out of him, too fast, too deep.
The creature recovered and struck.
Levi met it head-on.
Teeth snapped inches from his throat. Levi’s snarl rolled low and thunderous, a sound that shook loose dust from the stone walls. He drove the creature back, every movement brutal and precise, boots tearing trenches through the dirt as his weight shifted wrong — halfway.
The creature faltered.
It circled, confused, head low, shoulders twitching.
Levi followed, gaze locked, body coiled tight as a drawn bow. His hands shook — not from fear, but from restraint — the wolf pressing hard against the fragile edge of his control.
The creature lunged again.
Levi caught it by the throat and slammed it into the ground.
Stone cracked beneath them.
Claws hovered at its neck. Levi’s teeth were bared now, sharp enough to gleam in the moonlight, breath hot against the creature’s fur. The air pulsed with the weight of dominance, thick and suffocating.
The creature went still.
Whining, broken, scrambling as Levi released it with a sharp shove. It fled into the trees, crashing blindly through brush until the night swallowed it whole.
The silence afterward rang.
Levi stayed where he was, chest heaving, claws still out, head bowed as if listening to something only he could hear.
“Levi.”
Luna’s voice trembled.
His head snapped up.
For a terrifying heartbeat, the wolf looked back at her — eyes bright, unblinking, assessing.
Then Levi flinched.
He dragged himself backward, fingers digging into his own palms as he forced the change down. Bone shifted with a sickening roll. Claws shortened, retracted, leaving his hands scraped and shaking.
He didn’t look at her.
Moonlight spilled over the torn fabric of his shirt, the sharp lines still etched into his frame — not fully human, not fully anything else.
Luna pushed herself away from the wall.
Her legs wobbled.
She steadied herself and took a step forward.
Levi stiffened instantly.
“Don’t,” he said hoarsely.
She stopped — but didn’t retreat.
“You’re bleeding,” she said.
He glanced down at his ribs, where dark stains spread and then slowly faded, skin knitting itself together beneath torn cloth.
Her breath caught.
She didn’t scream.
She didn’t run.
She swallowed and looked back up at him.
“You came back for me,” she said.
Levi laughed once, short and broken. “I didn’t mean to.”
The words seemed to surprise them both.
Luna’s gaze flicked to the trees, then back to him. “That thing… it was going to—”
“I know.”
He stepped back, then another, putting space between them like a barrier he could hide behind.
“You should go,” he said. “Now.”
She didn’t move.
Blood slid down her wrist, dripping onto the stone. Levi’s eyes tracked it instantly, the wolf stirring again — sharp, protective, furious at the sight.
He turned away abruptly.
“Luna,” he said, voice tight, “go.”
She lifted her injured arm. “I can’t carry my books like this.”
The words were simple. Practical.
Levi closed his eyes.
When he opened them, he crossed the distance in two strides and crouched, gathering the fallen books with careful hands. His movements were precise now — controlled — though his knuckles still trembled.
He offered them back without meeting her gaze.
Their fingers brushed.
Levi froze.
Luna felt the heat under his skin, the strength held rigidly in check. She looked up at him, close enough to see the silver fading from his eyes.
“You’re afraid of me now,” he said quietly.
She shook her head.
“No,” she said. “I think you were afraid I would be.”
Something in Levi’s chest gave — not a snap, but a slow, dangerous shift.
Footsteps echoed in the distance.
Voices.
Lantern light flickered between the trees.
Levi straightened instantly, positioning himself in front of Luna without thinking, broad shoulders blocking her from view.
“Stay behind me,” he said.
She did.
Students appeared at the far end of the path, whispers already forming, eyes widening at the torn earth, the shattered stone, the blood on the ground.
Levi didn’t move.
Neither did Luna.
Side by side — not touching — but unmistakably aligned.
And somewhere deep inside Levi, the wolf settled.
Not satisfied.
But no longer alone.
- Writer
