Chapter 1 1

Raindrops streamed down the windows, tracing simple little paths.

The rain had started so suddenly that I had to go back for my umbrella. The car keys were missing, which meant I'd have to pick up my friend from the hospital on foot - or sacrifice a few hundred for a taxi.

Opening the umbrella, I stepped out of the building and walked briskly down the sidewalk. Puddles had already formed underfoot, threatening to seep into my black pumps. The shoes were definitely a bad choice for the day, but I was already running late, and there was no time to turn back.

A sudden idea crossed my mind - to take a shortcut. My legs caught on to it immediately and turned into the courtyards between the apartment blocks.

How I regretted that decision. The puddles here were enormous, some so wide I had to jump over them. During one of those leaps, one of my heels gave way and snapped.

"Of course," I muttered in frustration, limping onward.

But fate clearly wasn't done with me yet. Out of nowhere, a gust of wind ripped the umbrella right out of my hands, sending it flying into the unknown. I watched it disappear, cursed loudly, and broke into a run toward the hospital.

By the time I walked in, I looked like one of their patients - limping, drenched, and sneezing.

Maya spotted me right away and followed my path from the door to the waiting area with a bewildered stare. I collapsed onto a soft couch and sighed in relief.

"Vera, what happened to you?" my friend asked, eyeing me up and down.

"My heel broke on the way, and then the umbrella flew off."

"You walked here? What about the car?"

"I can't find the keys. We'll take a taxi back."

She gave a crooked smile.

"The discharge papers aren't ready yet. We'll have to wait a bit."

I sighed in annoyance and leaned back against the cushion. After flipping through a few magazines on the table, I started fidgeting. My clothes clung to my body - uncomfortable and cold. Lucky me, really.

Then the woman at the reception window stirred, looked out, and called Maya over. Finally. While my friend was signing her papers, I pulled out my phone and ordered a taxi.

When I turned back, she was still busy writing something, and behind her stood a tall, broad-shouldered man. Darkness seemed to coil around him, and the air itself felt charged with danger. I squinted, studying him - wide, muscular shoulders, black wavy hair. But his face - I couldn't see it. He leaned slightly toward Maya, as if... smelling her. Odd, to say the least.

Then his hands, clasped behind his back, began to shift in shape. My heart sank to my heels when I saw black, sharp claws glinting where his fingers had been.

A werewolf.

Panic seized me.

"Maya!" I shouted, and the man straightened up, pretending nothing had happened. "Come on, let's go! The taxi's here."

Maya grabbed her documents and hurried toward me. We had to leave - fast - before that flea-bitten creature caught our scent.

We walked out without looking back. Still, curiosity got the better of me, and I glanced over my shoulder. The hall was empty. Only the nurse remained behind the reception glass.

Once outside, we got into the car and drove home. We had plans for a girls' night - wine, laughter, and secrets to share.

And as soon as the household filled with the cheerful chaos of preparation, the stranger from the hospital slipped from my mind.

Two of Maya's friends came over that evening. I didn't know them well, but I welcomed the chance for pleasant company. The girls had been friends since university and eagerly reminisced about old times.

Apparently, Maya had been quite the heartbreaker back then - chased by hordes of boys - though she herself had loved someone who never loved her back.

Hearing those bits of her past was oddly comforting. They kept trying to draw me into their confessions too, but my own secrets were buried deep - locked behind seven keys.

After plenty of drinks and laughter, we sent the girls home in a taxi and finally went to bed.

"Stop!"

The scream tore through the darkness, sharp enough to split it open.

It felt like it came from my throat-and yet, it wasn't me at all.

Around me stretched nothingness, thick and suffocating, as if I stood inside a storm cloud. The air pulsed. Every breath burned; every sound was swallowed by the dark. Then, slowly, out of that void, a shape emerged-a massive gray wolf, its fur rippling like smoke. His eyes glowed with an unnatural yellow light, fixed on me-unblinking, ancient.

He didn't move. He just watched, and somehow I knew he wasn't an ordinary creature. There was intelligence in that gaze, and something else-sorrow. For a moment, I even thought he might speak. But instead, the scene shifted, flickering like a broken film reel.

Now he stood sideways, his whole body taut, ready to leap. His lips curled back, baring long white fangs. Opposite him stood a young man-barely more than a boy-with fear frozen on his face. I wanted to move, to call out, to stop what was about to happen, but my body was no longer mine.

"Wait!" my voice rang out again from somewhere in the darkness.

The wolf lunged.

A flash of light-then pain seared across my cheek, dragging me back to reality. I gasped, sitting upright. The scream still echoed in my throat, leaving it raw.

Maya sat across from me, glaring. The early dawn light bled into the room, turning everything pale and unreal.

"Why are you screaming like a lunatic?" she snapped. Her tone carried that strange blend of worry and irritation only she could manage. She'd seen this before-too many times.

"Bad dream," I whispered, my voice hoarse.

My hand went to my face. My cheek throbbed and felt warm to the touch-probably red. I half-smiled despite myself. "Nice way to wake me up."

"Want me to lie down with you?" Maya's voice softened.

I nodded. She slid under the blanket beside me, the warmth of her presence oddly grounding.

"Maybe you'll finally tell me what it is," she murmured. "What you keep dreaming about. You scream like someone's killing you."

For a long moment, I stared at the ceiling. The room still felt too bright, the dream too close. My chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, and the image of those yellow eyes hovered just behind my eyelids.

"Every night," I said at last, my voice barely above a whisper, "I dream about the death of the man I loved."

Maya inhaled sharply. I could feel her turning toward me, searching for words-but there was nothing to say.

So we lay there in silence, side by side. The morning light slowly painted the room gold-soft and forgiving, as if pretending none of it had happened. My heartbeat finally slowed, though the ache in my chest remained-familiar, unrelenting.

Outside, a bird began to sing. I closed my eyes, and for a moment, the sound almost made me believe I could sleep again.