115

Something was happening to her. Bavanda knew it, and this unnerved her. She felt threatened by her own self, scared of what would happen next, what she was going to do next.

She saw it in the mirror. It wasn’t just her eyes glowing anymore, nor just the voices.

It scared her. She found it difficult to look in the mirror.

Her reflection was wrong.

At first, it was subtle—a shadow moving when she wasn’t. A flicker of darkness around her pupils. But then it became something worse.

She stared into the mirror that night, after her mother had walked away, and Theresa had retired to bed, gripping the sides of the sink, her breathing heavy.

And then Bavanda saw her—a thing.

The version of herself that had attacked a pack warrior. The one with claws too long, eyes too hollow, skin cracked like something not human.

Bavanda stumbled back, her stomach lurching. “No,” she whispered. “That’s not me.”

The thing in the mirror smiled. But it was.

Her back hit the wall, her heartbeat slamming against her ribs. She swallowed the lump in her throat, practically racing out of the restroom.

As soon as she was out, she leaned into the door, her eyes shut tightly. Then, a hand touched her shoulder.

Her eyes snapped open—only to find Theresa standing there, staring at her with calm, glowing eyes.

Bavanda jerked lightly. “What…what are you doing here?”

Theresa ignored her question, instead, “You saw it, didn’t you?” she whispered.

Bavanda’s lips parted, but no words came.

Theresa’s hand trailed up to her neck, fingertips brushing over the place where the mark had been the first night Bavanda found her. Then, ever so slowly, she turned around.

“Look,” she whispered.

And Bavanda did, her eyes widening. The mark on her neck was glowing. A deep, eerie light, shifting like it was alive.

Her throat went dry. “What…what does it mean?”

The girl only smiled. “It means you’re ready.”

Bavanda tried to question what Theresa's words meant, but it was of no use. The girl said nothing else that held any meaning to Bavanda. She spoke in parables as usual, and Bavanda could only give up.

The night was thick with silence, an eerie stillness settling over the pack lands like a heavy blanket. The world slept, but Bavanda couldn’t. Sleep had become a stranger to her. Every time she closed her eyes, the whispers grew louder, more insistent, clawing at her mind like unseen hands trying to tear her apart.

Without thinking it through, she made a quick decision to step outside. She was supposed to be scared, but she wasn't. All she needed was peace, and it seemed the open field had a little to offer.

The cool night air brushed against her skin as she made her way toward the training grounds. The moon hung high above, casting a pale glow over the empty field. This place, usually filled with the sounds of warriors training, now stood in complete solitude. It was the only place where she could breathe.

She rolled her shoulders, stretching out the tension that had been knotted there for days. Her mind was a battlefield, a constant war between the voices and her own thoughts. Her parents didn’t trust her. The pack feared her. Steve watched her like she was a ticking bomb. The only person who understood her was Theresa, and even then, Bavanda wasn’t sure if she truly understood herself anymore.

She exhaled sharply and stepped onto the training ground. Maybe if she pushed her body hard enough, she could silence the storm in her head. Maybe if she fought against something physical, she wouldn’t have to fight the unseen horrors creeping into her mind.

But then—she felt it.

A presence.

Not the kind she was used to, not the warm, familiar bond of her packmates. This was something else, but somehow, it felt undeniably familiar.

The air shifted, the temperature dropping so suddenly that her breath became visible. A shiver ran down her spine. Instinctively, she turned, her sharp eyes scanning the darkness beyond the training ground.

The world stopped as her eyes fell on him.

Loco.

She stiffened, her muscles tensing as her gaze locked onto him. He held a different aura, like something about him had shifted. There was something off about the way he carried himself, a quiet confidence that hadn’t been there before. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, as if he had been expecting her.

The moonlight caught his face, and for a brief second, she saw it—the faintest flicker of something unnatural in his eyes.

“You,” she breathed, her voice laced with warning.

Loco smirked, tilting his head slightly. “Me.”

Bavanda clenched her fists. “You have some nerve showing your face here.”

“Do I?” His tone was amused, almost mocking. He took a slow step forward. “I think I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

Her nails dug into her palms. “Why are you here?”

Loco exhaled, as if bored by the question. “Because you need me.”

Bavanda scoffed, but the unease in her chest grew. “I don’t need anything from you.”

He chuckled. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

And then, he said it. “I know what you are. They don't.”

The world seemed to tilt. A sharp ringing filled Bavanda’s ears. The words weren’t an accusation, neither were they a question. It was a statement, and not just any statement—a fact.

Her heart pounded against her ribs. “What the hell does that mean?” she demanded.

He took another step forward. “You don’t belong here.”

Her mind screamed at her to deny it, to call him a liar, but his words slithered into her, settling into the cracks of her already fragile mind.

Because deep down, hadn’t she been thinking the same thing?

Her own parents didn’t trust her. Her packmates were afraid of her. Even Steve, now hesitated before speaking to her.

She didn’t belong here.

Loco’s smirk widened slightly. “You feel it too, don’t you?” he murmured. “That itch under your skin, that voice whispering in your ear… telling you that you were meant for more than this.”

Bavanda’s breathing grew ragged. The whispers in her head swirled, growing louder, feeding on his words.

No.

No, this wasn’t real. This was a trick.

She shook her head violently, stepping back. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Loco didn’t argue. He simply shrugged. “Maybe.” His eyes gleamed in the moonlight. “Or maybe I know more than you ever will.”

Her hands were shaking now, rage and confusion warring inside her. She had spent weeks questioning herself, doubting who she was becoming. And now he waltzed in, acting like he had the answers? Like he knew her?

A sharp growl tore from her throat. “Shut up.”

Loco’s smirk didn’t fade. “Make me.”

The challenge was like a match to gasoline.

Bavanda lunged.

Her claws extended, her vision tinged red. She moved faster than she ever had before, her instincts screaming for her to tear him apart.

But she didn’t even touch him.

Loco sidestepped her effortlessly, as if he had seen the attack coming long before she had made it. His movements were fluid, precise, almost… practiced.

She whirled, snarling. “Fight me, coward.”

He chuckled, completely at ease. “She was wrong. You’re not ready.”

Bavanda charged again, but just as her claws swiped through the air—he was gone.

Vanished. Like he had never been there at all.

Her breath came in ragged gasps. Her hands still trembled. The training grounds were silent once more, except for the pounding of her own heart.

She turned, scanning the darkness. “Loco!” she shouted. “Come back here!”

But there was no answer. No sign that he had ever been there.

And yet, his words still lingered in the air.

I know what you are.

Bavanda swallowed hard, gripping her head as the whispers in her mind grew deafening once more.

Bavanda spun on her heel, still seething, her breathing erratic. But as she turned toward the packhouse, she froze.

Steve stood there, partially hidden by the shadows of a nearby tree. His expression was unreadable, but his stance was rigid, tense.

Her stomach dropped.“What are you doing here?” she demanded, voice sharp.

Steve stepped forward, his eyes locked onto hers. “I should be asking you that.”

Bavanda clenched her fists. “That’s none of your concern.”

Steve scoffed, shaking his head. “Like hell it isn’t. I saw you, Bavanda.” His voice was quieter now, but laced with something dangerous. “Who was that you were speaking to? Is he supposed to be here?”

A cold wave of panic rippled through her, but she buried it under anger. “You don’t know what you saw.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Don’t do that. Don’t lie to me.”

Bavanda took a slow step forward, her presence suddenly suffocating. “And what if I was?” Her voice dropped to a low, warning tone. “What are you going to do, Steve?”

His jaw tightened. “I should tell the Alpha.”

Bavanda’s eyes darkened. “No, you shouldn’t.”

Something about the way she said it made Steve pause. There was a flicker of something unfamiliar in her expression, something that sent a chill down his spine.

She tilted her head. “If you say a word… I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, Steve turned and made to walk away, saying, “You can't threaten me, Bavanda."

However, he barely took a step, before she pulled him back, roughly. Staring him into the face, her rage so intense that it was edged into all of her features, she roared,

“Stay out of my way, Steve.”