I can feel it in my bones, that familiar ache that comes with the approaching full moon. It's like an itch I can't scratch, a restlessness that seeps into every fiber of my being. The calendar on my phone mockingly displays the lunar cycle – tomorrow night, the moon will be at its fullest, and I'll be at my most vulnerable.
The construction site is quieter than usual today. Maybe it's just my heightened senses, but the clanging of metal and the roar of machinery seem muted, distant. Or perhaps my coworkers can sense something off about me. They've been giving me a wide berth all day, shooting concerned glances when they think I'm not looking.
"Smith! Get your ass over here!" my foreman shouts, breaking through my haze of anxiety. I trudge over, wiping sweat from my brow. The sun feels too bright, too hot on my skin.
"Yeah, boss?"
He eyes me suspiciously. "You feeling alright? You look like shit."
I force a chuckle. "Thanks. Just didn't sleep well."
He grunts, unconvinced. "Well, pull it together. I need you to finish up that welding job before you clock out."
I nod, grateful for the distraction. As I make my way back to my station, I catch a whiff of something – someone – familiar. My head snaps up, scanning the chain-link fence surrounding the site. For a moment, I could swear I see a flash of dark hair, a pair of curious eyes. Isabella?
But when I blink, there's nothing there. Great. Now I'm hallucinating.
The rest of the day passes in a blur of metal and sparks. By the time I clock out, my shirt is drenched in sweat, my muscles aching from the effort of staying in control. The drive home is torturous – every red light an eternity, every other driver a potential threat.
As I fumble with my keys at the apartment door, Mrs. Hodges from next door pokes her head out.
"Oh, Damien dear," she chirps, her eyes crinkling with grandmotherly concern. "Are you feeling alright? You look a bit peaky."
I manage a weak smile. "I'm fine, Mrs. Hodges. Just tired from work."
She nods sympathetically. "Well, you make sure to get some rest. Oh, and do be careful if you go out tonight. I heard on the news there's been another animal attack in the woods."
My blood runs cold. "Another one?"
"Yes, isn't it dreadful? They're saying it might be a rabid wolf. You be sure to stay safe, dear."
I mumble my thanks and practically dive into my apartment, heart racing. Another attack. It couldn't have been me – could it? The last full moon is a blur in my memory, but I was so sure I'd managed to chain myself up in time.
The walls of my small apartment feel like they're closing in. I pace from room to room, checking and rechecking the heavy-duty chains and reinforced door of my "safe room" – really just a glorified closet, but it's held so far.
As the sun begins to set, casting long shadows across my living room, I feel the first real tremors of transformation. My skin prickles, muscles tensing and relaxing of their own accord. I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to howl.
A sharp knock at the door nearly makes me jump out of my skin.
"Damien? Are you in there?"
Isabella's voice. What the hell is she doing here?
"Uh, yeah," I call out, wincing at how strained my voice sounds. "Now's not a good time, Isabella."
There's a pause, and for a moment I think – hope – she's left. Then her voice comes again, softer this time. "Are you okay? I just... I had a feeling I should check on you."
A feeling? I shake my head, trying to clear it. "I'm fine. Really. You should go home, it's not safe—" I cut myself off, realizing how that sounds.
"Not safe?" Her voice is closer now, like she's pressed up against the door. "Damien, what's going on? Please, let me help."
The genuine concern in her voice makes something twist in my chest. For a wild moment, I consider opening the door, telling her everything. But then another spasm wracks my body, and I know I'm out of time.
"Isabella, listen to me," I growl, my voice already deepening with the change. "You need to leave. Now. Don't come back until morning, no matter what you hear. Promise me."
"But—"
"Promise me!"
There's a long pause, and then, so quietly I almost miss it: "I promise."
I hear her footsteps retreating, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. The relief is short-lived as another, stronger wave of transformation hits me. I stumble towards my safe room, fingers fumbling with the padlock.
Just as I'm about to shut myself in, a howl splits the night – close, too close. And it's not mine.
My blood runs cold. There's another werewolf in town.
Before I can process this, a scream pierces the air – a scream I recognize.
Isabella.
Every instinct in me roars to life. The change I've been fighting all day surges forward, and I welcome it now. Bones crack and reshape, muscles bulge and stretch, fur sprouts across my body.
In seconds, where a man once stood, a massive wolf now crouches. With a snarl, I burst through my apartment door, wood splintering around me.
Isabella's in danger. Nothing else matters.
As I bound down the stairs on all fours, a small, human part of my brain wonders: how will I explain this in the morning?
But the wolf doesn't care. The wolf only knows one thing: protect.
With a final, ear-splitting howl, I charge into the night, racing towards the sound of Isabella's fading scream.