William Scott

The tumultuous sky mirrored the chaos within me as I stood motionless, gazing out of the window, my breath fogging up the glass. A crack of lightning illuminated the pitch darkness for a fleeting second, and I could see him—a shadow fleeing into the storm. His name was more than apt. Shadow, my love, my tormentor, now just a silhouette dissolving into the tempest. The words that had shattered our world still echoed in the room, hanging heavy like the damp air before a downpour. “I cheated on you,” I had confessed, and with those four words, I had pushed him out into the night—into the acidic rain that would sear his flesh as surely as my betrayal had lacerated his heart.

I turned away from the window, feeling the weight of urgency bear down on me. There was no time for tears or regret; actions needed to be taken, and fast. With determined movements, I grabbed my heavy-duty raincoat—the kind that could withstand the caustic downpour—and hastily put it on. The slick material felt cold and foreign against my skin, an unwelcome barrier between me and the elements, yet necessary all the same.

Climbing out of the window, I stepped into the violent embrace of the storm. Each drop of rain was like a burning accusation, a reminder of the piercing words I had uttered just moments before. I knew I had to reach Will before Shadow did; the fragile peace that hung precariously between our worlds depended on it. Will held answers, and perhaps the key to salvaging what little hope remained—if there was any to be salvaged at all.

My feet moved with purpose across the soggy ground, the squelch of mud beneath my boots keeping time with the pounding of my heart. This wasn't just about me anymore; it was bigger than that. I fought to keep the image of Shadow's retreating form out of my mind, to focus on the pressing need to intercept Will. If I could just get to him first, maybe, just maybe, I could still fix this.

The rain lashed at me unforgivingly, but I pressed on with grim resolve. I had to be faster, I had to be stronger—I owed Will that much. Even if he never forgave me, even if he hated me for eternity, I would not let him face Shadow alone. Not tonight. Not ever.

Lightning forked across the sky, its electric veins illuminating the forest in stark white. My breaths were heavy but determined, each one whispering a silent plea that Shadow was not ahead of me. He had to be slowed by the rain; I clung to that hope as if it were a lifeline. Werewolf or not, even he couldn’t be impervious to this deluge—the acid searing through fur and flesh alike.

I could feel the rain's venomous kiss seeping through my raincoat, the fabric supposed to shelter me now compromised. In mere minutes, the icy droplets had plastered my undergarments to my skin, a chilling reminder of my vulnerability in this tempest. A shiver ran down my spine, not solely from the cold, but also from the realization that perhaps I loathed the rain because it was anathema to Shadow. Mated to a werewolf, my instincts seemed to rail against what harmed him, despite the chasm my betrayal had carved between us.

Navigating the slippery forest floor required all my concentration. Branches reached out like skeletal fingers, snagging at my coat, threatening to hold me back. I had to be swift, yet each step felt weighed down by dread. The Scott's house was a beacon in the distance, the only certainty in the murky night. Its warm glow promised sanctuary—a brief respite from the storm, both outside and within my heart.

Each stride took me closer, every squelch of mud beneath my boots a grim rhythm pushing me onward. I pushed through the underbrush, leaves slapping against my face, the world reduced to the narrow beam of my flashlight and the relentless roar of the rain. With Will's truth waiting to be uncovered, I couldn’t afford to slow down—not for fear, not for regret, and certainly not for the storm that sought to claim me.

The Scott house loomed before me, its windows flickering with the warm light of hearth fires that seemed to mock the storm’s fury. I approached the door, my heart pounding against my ribcage like a caged bird desperate for escape. Before I could knock, the door swung open and Mrs. Scott appeared, her maternal eyes scanning me with concern.

"Goodness, Amina! You're soaked through!" she exclaimed, ushering me into the foyer with a brisk efficiency that left no room for protest. She was a whirlwind of motion, her hands fluttering like birds as she removed my raincoat and hung it to drip over the slate floor.

"Come quickly, dear," she said, her voice tinged with an excitement that felt disconcerting given the gravity of my visit. "William has been asking for you."

I followed her up the narrow staircase, each step creaking under our combined weight, to William's bedroom. The door was ajar, and Mrs. Scott knocked softly before pushing it open wider.

"Look who braved the storm just for you," she said with a gentle smile, stepping aside to let me enter.

"Thank you, Mrs. Scott," I murmured, my gaze immediately drawn to the figure on the bed.

Will lay propped up against a mound of pillows, his features betraying no sign of harm. Relief flooded through me, momentarily washing away the acidic taste of fear that had been my constant companion since Shadow's departure into the night.

"Hi, Amina," Will greeted me, his voice steady but his eyes searching mine for something unspoken.

"Hi, Will," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm glad you're okay." My eyes flitted around the room, avoiding his gaze. I couldn't shake the gnawing worry that Shadow's absence spelled the end of whatever fragile connection we had. That he didn't fight for me, didn't even linger in the face of my confession, scorched my insides. I didn’t want violence, just... some sign that what we shared mattered to him.

"Sit down, Amina," Will gestured to the chair beside his bed, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Thanks," I said, settling into the seat, the fabric of my clothes sticking uncomfortably to my skin—a reminder of the rain’s intrusive touch.

Mrs. Scott left the room quietly, closing the door behind her with a soft click. Alone with Will, the silence stretched between us, filled with words unsaid and confessions that clung to my tongue, heavy as the rain that continued its relentless assault outside.

Will's hand swept through the air, dismissing the silence like it was a wisp of smoke. "We should talk about our future, Amina. About us."

"Us?" The word felt foreign on my lips, laced with a bitterness that surprised even me.

"Yes," he said, leaning forward, his eyes intent. "I think we should get married."

Married? The thought careened through my mind, leaving chaos in its wake. "I... Will, I can't marry you."

His brows knit together, confusion etched on his face. "Why not? It would be a logical union for both our families."

"Logical?" I echoed hollowly. My heart ached for something far beyond the reach of logic. "I want more than that, Will. More than security or strategy. I need love."

"Love?" Will let out a sharp laugh, and just like that, the atmosphere in the room shifted. His laughter wasn't filled with mirth; it was cold, mocking. "And where has love gotten you, Amina?"

I flinched, the sound slicing through the remnants of warmth between us. My pulse quickened, a subtle alarm bell ringing somewhere deep within.

"Love," he sneered, his demeanor darkening, "is why you're here now, isn't it? Because of your little escapade in the forest."

My breath caught, and I could feel my facade cracking under his gaze. How could he possibly—

"I saw you, Amina," he said, his voice low and threatening. "With the Monkey man, against the tree. Did you really think such... activities would remain secret in this forest?"

The accusation hit me like a physical blow. I had thought myself so careful, so discreet. But there he was, holding my most vulnerable moment like a weapon, ready to strike. The walls of the room pressed in, suffocating, as realization dawned on me: Will knew. He knew everything.

"Will, I..." My voice faltered, disbelieving. "You must be mistaken. I would never—"

"Stop," he cut me off, his eyes glinting with a dangerous certainty. "Lies don't become you, Amina."