I never believed in monsters. Not until I saw Kaelen Veyra bleeding in the elevator at 2 a.m., his suit torn, golden eyes flickering like dying embers. I pressed the emergency button, but he grabbed my wrist—warm, impossibly strong. 'Don’t scream,' he whispered, voice rough like gravel and smoke. 'They’ll hear you.'

That was three weeks ago. Now, I catch him watching me from his office balcony, shirtless even in winter, scars twisting across his chest like old roots. The company says he’s eccentric. I know better. Last night, I followed him to the abandoned rail yard. I saw him kneel, bones cracking, fur erupting—then rise as a massive black wolf with silver-tipped ears.

Tonight, he knocks on my apartment door, drenched in rain. 'They know about you,' he says. 'Your blood… it calls to them. To me. You need to decide—run now, or let me protect you. Even if it means binding us forever.'

His hand trembles slightly. For the first time, the predator looks afraid.