A single choice can rewrite the story of a life.
The hunter raised his weapon to strike, the air thick with impending violence. Alex could do nothing but stare, his voice locked in his throat. His entire body shook with terror, knowing the end was near. But before the blow could land, the door flew open with a deafening crash.
Alice stormed into the room, fury radiating from every step. One hand shot out, grabbing the hunter by his shirt collar and yanking him back.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Alice's voice was a low growl, his fury palpable.
Des, unfazed, looked up, a cheery grin spreading across his face. "Oh, Ben, it's been a long time. How've you been?"
Alice's grip tightened, his voice dripping with venom. "Shut the hell up and put that fucking dagger away!"
Alex's jaw dropped.
Des muttered under his breath, lowering the dagger, though he didn't relax his stance. His fingers still gripped the blade tightly, as if ready to strike at a moment's notice. "That was uncalled for..."
"What the hell were you thinking?" Alice snarled, ignoring the hunter's mutter. "You can't just kill one of my friends!"
Des looked at him, mockingly disappointed. "Can't I?"
Alex's eyes darted between the two of them, still struggling to make sense of the situation.
"Of course not, you idiot!" Alice shot back, his eyes flashing with anger. "Think about it, you dumbass! How would Shay feel? He's his best friend!"
Des's nonchalant shrug didn't help the situation. "He'll get over it. After all, his dear brother is here to comfort him."
Alice's expression darkened even more. "No, he won't," he retorted, stepping closer. "He'll fucking hate you."
Des laughed incredulously, as if the idea was utterly absurd. "How could he hate me? I'm his brother."
Alice's gaze was unwavering, his anger smoldering. "You're a fucking joke," he spat. "Now, get out of the way."
Des's smile faltered, the tension in the room escalating. "Stand aside, Ben," he said, his voice cold and menacing.
Alex's heart pounded in his chest, unsure of what would happen next.
Alice sighed deeply. The heavy-looking folding chessboard lay on the ground, its interior exposed. The velvet casing, slightly rumpled, outlined the shape of a weapon—a weapon whose scream was known far and wide among monsters. In Alice's hand, the infamous Angel's Scream gleamed ominously. Its jet-black barrel was both beautiful and deadly, a weapon few dared to wield.
The inscription carved into the barrel was known by all who lived in fear of it. No monster could hear its name and not shudder. Only a select few in the Special Forces possessed such a weapon, and even fewer were able to control it. The Angel's Scream demanded a steady hand and a clear mind.
The mad hunter, standing across from Alice, tilted his head with an almost amused look. "Is this a challenge, Benie?" His voice was light, mocking. "This is serious, and you've never beaten me before. Do you know what that means?"
"It means this will be the first time," Alice said with a confident, unshakable resolve.
In an instant, the shot rang out. The Angel's Scream emitted a deafening roar, the bullet cutting through the air with a terrifying shriek. Alex instinctively cupped his hands over his ears, his eyes glued to the fight unfolding before him.
The mad hunter barely flinched, his body dodging with inhuman precision. The bullet sliced through the air, narrowly missing him by a hair's breadth. If Alice had truly viewed him as an enemy, the hunter would have been dead. The shot was meant to send a message, not end the fight. The hunter smirked, clearly unbothered.
Without hesitation, he twisted the blade in his hand, plunging it toward Alice. He struck again and again, relentless. But Alice, despite his youth, was a skilled fighter. He dodged and parried, his movements graceful yet deadly. The final strike aimed for his eye was blocked with the barrel of his weapon, the two combatants locked in a dance of deadly precision.
They sprang back, both of them calculating their next move. Alice aimed his gun, firing with expert aim. But the hunter darted to the side, a blur of motion, avoiding the bullet with ease. He closed the distance between them quickly, determined to end the fight. In that split second, he twisted to face an incoming attack from the side, just in time to get drenched in sticky brown liquid.
"What are you doing here?"
It was only then, as if noticing me for the first time, that he acknowledged my presence. And let me tell you—I was not happy. I had walked into Alex's room to see Des about to kill Alice, with Alex sitting there, white as a ghost, watching it all unfold.
My first instinct was simple. I took the rest of my half-cold coffee and spilled it all over the trash human being standing before me.
"Shay~!" Des called out melodically, his voice dripping with sweetness. At the same time, he threw his dagger with impeccable aim, missing the stunned wolf in the bed by a mere inch. Then, with a flair that could only belong to him, he threw himself at me, pulling me into a bone-crushing hug, as if trying to squeeze the life out of me.
"Did you miss me, little Shay?" he whispered into my hair, his breath hot against my neck.
I stiffened at the words, the old tension rising within me. My body tensed instinctively, but I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself. I needed to give this insufferable excuse for a human a normal response, despite everything.
"Yeah, like the plague after a war," I muttered, my voice tinged with sarcasm. I had no intention of diving into that topic again, so I swiftly moved on.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, though I already had an inkling.
"Visiting you," he purred, his tone far too smug. "I missed you a lot."
"I imagine," I rolled my eyes, my patience fraying. "You could've spared me this time, too, considering you managed to avoid me for six years."
Seriously. Six years. Don't come to me with this sibling complex act when you haven't even bothered to visit since I was twelve. What, did he expect some tearful reunion?
As if sensing the growing tension in the room, the doctor appeared, ushering us out with surprising efficiency. I sank into one of the uncomfortable orange plastic chairs, a grimace twisting my features. The two hunters flanked me on either side, their resentment practically radiating from them. It was clear they had unresolved issues between them, and I couldn't be bothered to untangle the mess they'd made of their relationship.
Des, after a five-year, eight-month absence, had exploded back into my life like a storm. He had changed, yes—he was more muscular, taller (though still shorter than Alice), with a barely-there stubble on his chin, and an aura that screamed danger. His presence was unsettling, far more than it ever used to be.
Despite everything, he remained my simple-minded, dull-witted brother. His gaze was the same as it had been when I was a child—warm, kind, and utterly unchanging—as though no years had passed between us, as though he'd last seen me yesterday.
For some reason, that unspoken familiarity made me feel worse. How could he love me after all this time? How could he love me when I was the reason our mother died? It was my fault, yet Des never condemned me. And strangely, that was more painful than if he had hit me.
He ruffled my hair, his touch both tender and unsettling. "Why the long face? What's bothering you?"
I kept my expression neutral, but he saw right through me.
"Why did you come back?" I asked, my voice devoid of warmth or affection.
I should have been happy. For years, I had woken each morning hoping to find him back in my life. Yet now, the weight in my chest felt unbearable.
"The old farts have been busy lately," he said casually, "so I thought I'd pay you a visit. I wasn't lying when I said I missed you."
The truth was, I had always known that Geri would report back to Des after each of his visits. Over the years, my brother had risen above the ranks of the average hunters, leading multiple groups under his command, including the persistent, irritating Geri. When I saw the moon-crescent-shaped mark on Geri's badge, the family crest, it clicked into place.
It hadn't been a coincidence that Alice, too, was part of the Crosspherat. Des had sent him to keep an eye on me. Des had been there all along—watching over me, taking care of me in his own way.
"Why didn't you come sooner?" I asked, though my voice betrayed none of the bitterness that simmered beneath. My hands, however, trembled with the weight of emotions I couldn't suppress.
I had missed him so much, more than I could ever express, and yet now, with him here, I felt sick.
"I couldn't help it," Des replied, and I could hear the pain in his voice. "You know the Crosspherat doesn't exactly hold me in high regard. After... after everything, t they were even more after me. I couldn't risk you being caught in the crossfire. I wanted you to have the peaceful life you always dreamed of, even if I couldn't be a part of it."
His words weren't entirely truthful, but we both knew it. There were other reasons, darker reasons, behind his absence.
"Don't just decide for me," I said, my voice more fragile than I intended.
How could I live a peaceful, happy life without you in it?
Des was silent, a kind of painful silence that spoke volumes. He had to be strong, after all. The protector. The big brother. He pulled me to him, and for a moment, I let myself lean into the comfort of his embrace, letting the weight of years apart fall away. But tears stung in my eyes, and I fought them back with pride. I was too proud to cry in front of the two hunters. I hadn't known until now how much I longed for his embrace and those words that carried absolution.
"I missed you so much, silly little brother," he whispered into my hair.
"Don't tease me," I muttered, pulling away from him, though the faint smile that tugged at the corner of my lips gave me away.
"How long will you stay?" I asked, my voice quieter now.
I needed to know, but I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the answer.
Des leaned back against the wall, looking thoughtful for a moment before answering. "I don't know," he said softly. "It depends."
"On what?" I pressed.
"On whether you want me to stay or not," he replied with a shrug.
"Idiot," I muttered.
I shifted the conversation, unwilling to remain in that vulnerable space any longer. "What case are you working on?"
Des's expression grew serious. "Someone's bringing a new drug into the area."
"Vampire blood," I said, already knowing the answer.
"Bingo," he confirmed with a grin, before jumping to his feet and stretching.
Silence settled between us again, and I fought the urge to speak, to demand something more from him. My lips trembled as I found the strength to ask, "Will I see you again?"
I didn't realize how much hope had crept into my voice until it was too late. It felt like a plea, a desperate question I wasn't sure I was ready to ask.
I didn't want to notice that Alice had suppressed a gentle smile.
"You can be sure of that," Des said with a grin, then winked at Alice, the look in his eyes mischievous.
Without another word, he turned and walked away.
(...)
The only thing that made me happier was when I got home and Rolo was sitting in the kitchen casually waiting for me. He greeted me with a gentle smile and in a tone that should have been endearing, asked me to make him cocoa—and I asked him to leave with an equally gentle, murderous look. Seriously, how did he even get in?
"Through the window," he said with a nonchalant shrug. "Don't worry, no one saw me."
Oh, that wasn't my concern at all. What truly bothered me was figuring out how I'd dispose of his body after I was done with him.
"What are you doing here?"I asked so that if Alex asked me why I killed him, I could explain exactly.
"I thought about stopping by the hospital," he shrugged again, "But I smelled wolves everywhere. Probably shouldn't have come under these circumstances."
"So, you decided to break into my house instead?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Exactly," he nodded with a grin, clearly pleased with himself.
"You were born to be a brave little bastard, that's for sure," I remarked dryly.
"Yes, yes," he waved me off impatiently, "But back on track—can I get my cocoa now?"
"Do you want it with cyanide or herbicide?" I asked sweetly, as though I were offering a simple choice.
"Very funny," he muttered, though I was completely serious.
"You're not here just for cocoa, are you?"
It wasn't a question. It was a statement I made while popping a mug of milk into the microwave.
"No," he admitted, his grin slipping into something more serious.
"Well then, enlighten me. Why, exactly, are you gracing me with your presence?" I pressed, leaning against the counter.
"I thought you might be lonely..." he said, his voice softening, "At home, without the wolf."
I stared at him for a moment, weighing his words. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't completely insufferable.
"Oh, so you're worried about me?" I laughed, the sound sharp but not unkind.
He didn't answer, his gaze steady and unreadable. I stirred the three spoonfuls of cocoa into the milk, then slid the mug across the counter to him. He took a sip, and the corners of his mouth tugged upward into a slight smile almost immediately.
"You're a shapeshifter, so you probably know more about this than I do… Tell me, what's this 'companion' thing?" I asked, leaning in slightly. "Why was Alex acting so strangely?"
I recounted the odd incidents with the wolf.
"Blame it on his instincts," Rolo explained, his voice taking on that tone of someone who'd seen it all. "As the moon grew, they started to take over. It's stronger in wolves than in us, but I think I get it. He was jealous, afraid of where he stood with you. You probably don't open up to him much—you don't seem the type to wear your heart on your sleeve. He probably doesn't have much faith in himself."
He sipped from the cocoa and then continued. "One thing to remember, Shay: shifters aren't mind readers. They don't know what you're thinking unless you tell them. For a wolf, trust is everything. The bond between him and his companion is everything."
"So far, it hasn't bothered him that I keep secrets," I muttered, frustration creeping into my tone.
Okay, that was a slight exaggeration.
Rolo shrugged. "The choosing moon changes some things."
"What does a companion have to do?" I asked, half-joking. "I don't have to comb his fur, play fetch, or go hunting with him, do I?"
Rolo shook his head with a quiet chuckle.
"Just keep being with him. That's enough," he said, his voice steady.
I watched the boy, still sipping from his mug, the steam rising gently from the cup in his hands.
"Have you met your companion?" I asked, the question lingering in the air.
He shook his head, his expression unreadable.
"No one knows when they'll meet their companion," he replied. "Could be at birth, maybe when they first go to school, or even when they're old. Sometimes, the shifter never meets anyone to choose as a companion. It's all a matter of fate, or maybe just the whim of it."
I raised an eyebrow. "And how much do you know about this whole pack thing?"
Rolo gave a half-smile. "Cats have 'packs' too," he explained. "They're called famiglias. They're not too different from wolves."
"I see," I murmured, processing his words. "And who's the heart of the pack? The leader?"
"Yeah, you could say that," he said. "Why?"
"Wolves called me the heart of the pack," I said, trying to gauge his reaction.
Rolo nodded, as if the explanation made sense.
"A packheart is the leader of a pack, the one each member depends on equally. The alpha whose commands are absolute. A packheart's job is to care for, keep the pack together, and protect it," he said. Then, almost casually, he added, "I haven't met many packhearts as capable as you."
I must have looked at him with a confused expression because he quickly elaborated.
"You risked your life without a second thought to save one of your 'pack'," he said, his tone steady but with an underlying weight. "When the homunculus grabbed your friend, you didn't hesitate. I froze, huddled in a corner somewhere, shivering as I watched you. If your seer friend hadn't dragged me away, I might have ended up dead," he added quietly.
"I just didn't want Alex to die," I protested. "He would have done the same for me."
"Maybe," the kid replied, his voice tinged with doubt.
I leaned back, processing his words. "So, can someone who's not a shifter become a packheart?"
"Apparently," he replied, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "There's a seer, a vampire, a human, and even two shifters under you. You've got quite the mixed famiglia."
A surge of suspicion bubbled up. "How do you know about my friends?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. Then a more pressing thought struck me. "Two shifters?"
He nodded casually. "Of course. I did a bit of research. I don't trust anyone at face value just because they smile at me."
I fought the urge to roll my eyes—well, I may have done more than smile, but that's beside the point.
"And the two shifters are the wolf and me," he clarified with a smirk. "You know, it's usually the pack that chooses the heart, not the other way around. I chose."
"Oh," I smiled, raising an eyebrow. "Should I take that as an honor?"
He shrugged, the faintest of smiles playing on his lips as if it was just another fact to add to the list.