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The forest held its silence, thick, ancient, as if it were holding its breath. Barely the whisper of wind sliding through the tall branches, barely the distant crunch of leaves crushed beneath fleeing feet.
Mason was running.
The air burned his lungs. His heart slammed violently against his ribs, beating a rhythm he couldn’t calm. Inside him, his wolf was awake. Alert, hungry, demanding.
Minutes earlier, he had gone hunting with his family. That was how it always began: the young ones, the lessons, pride disguised as ritual. It’s normal, they told him. This is how you learn.
But when his snout caught that small, fragile body, when the dry crack lodged itself in his ears, everything shattered.
The rabbit lay dead before him.
Mason stepped back. Then another. Horror pierced his chest like a knife, cold and precise. Blood rose to his mouth. The world spun. His body began to burn, to twist beneath a skin that no longer held him.
He ran.
His family’s voices were swallowed by the trees, dissolved by distance and fear. Adrenaline exploded. In seconds, the transformation reversed itself by force, clumsy, incomplete. He returned to his human form with a broken gasp, grabbed his clothes however he could, pulled them on in a rush, without order or care.
Everything inside him was chaos.
Wrinkled shirt. Hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. Trembling hands. His eyes still glowed a dangerous yellow in the dimness. Blood stained his lips, slipping down the corner of his mouth even though he had tried to wipe it away.
He didn’t want to see anyone.
He didn’t want to hear anything.
He kept running.
Until he crashed into something.
—Hey!—
The complaint was sharp, annoyed. Mason stumbled, nearly falling, and the sound of branches snapping made him bristle like a cornered animal.
When he looked up, he saw him.
A boy his age, arms crossed, more irritated than afraid. Dirt and leaves clung to his clothes from the fall, but his expression was pure impatience.
—Can’t you watch where you’re going?!—
He growled, frowning.
His eyes slid, unhurried, to the blood on Mason’s mouth.
—Is that ketchup... or are you having a really terrible day?—
He stepped closer. Calm, too calm.
Mason stepped back. His chest trembled. He didn’t know if it was adrenaline or the worst stupidity of his life, but he opened his mouth, his voice breaking as tears overtook him.
—No! It’s not... it’s not ketchup!—
He babbled.
—I’m... I’m a werewolf. And I can be dangerous. Stay away!—
Breaking such a huge rule while crying. How humiliating.
The boy looked him over. From head to toe. His clothes looked expensive, his skin too pale for the forest, his voice disturbingly calm.
Then he smiled.
—That’s... awesome!—
Mason blinked.
—Aren’t... aren’t you scared?—
—Should I be?—
The boy replied calmly.
—You don’t look like someone truly dangerous.—
Silence fell between them. The forest seemed to exhale, as if approving the moment.
Mason took another step back. Fear tangled with something else, something confusing that tightened his chest and stopped his crying abruptly.
Then the boy extended his hand.
It was pale, slim, steady.
—I’m Kieran—
He said.
—Do you want to come with me? I was going to pick flowers for my mom.—
Against every instinct, Mason took that hand.
And something sparked.
It wasn’t pain. It wasn’t fear. It was a strange, dangerous calm, like that hand was holding him... and at the same time, claiming him.
He swallowed. His pulse still raced, blood still warm on his lips, the forest watching everything. But for the first time since he’d run, since he’d killed, since he’d been afraid of himself...
He stayed.
He squeezed the other boy’s hand a little tighter, as if he needed to make sure it was real.
—I’m Mason...—
He finally said, his voice rough, still trembling.
—Nice to meet you.—
He lifted his gaze. His yellow eyes no longer shone with fury, but with something far more vulnerable.
—I’d like to come with you.—
Mason remembered that day.
He always did.
Not because of the fear. Not because of the blood. Not because of the forest that still returned in his dreams sometimes. He remembered it because, despite everything, it had been special. Because from that instant, from that hand extended without fear.
Kieran never left.
Other kids did.
They drifted away when Mason got upset, when his voice grew too deep, when fangs appeared without permission. He learned early that friends were fragile things, that they didn’t last long. That other people’s fear was always stronger than any promise to stay.
Kieran Callisto wasn’t.
He sat beside him when Mason’s chest heaved too hard. He passed him a pencil, nudging it gently into his hand.
—Draw with me—
He’d say.
And he’d talk. About absurd things. Nonsense. Until Mason’s breathing found its rhythm again, until the wolf curled in on itself, confused.
They played knights.
Mason always chose to be the dragon.
Never the hero, never the prince.
Sometimes they slept together at sleepovers Mason wished would last forever. The little wolf hugged without thinking, guided by an instinct that was clean then, almost innocent. Kieran’s scent calmed him. Anchored him to the world, like an invisible root.
With the years, everything changed.
Wooden swords turned into video games. Races through the forest into weights and sweat. Kieran started wearing black, getting piercings Mason stared at for too long.
Too long.
The wolf inside him growled low. Curious, wanting to touch.
—Stop looking at me like that—
Kieran’s voice sounded distracted, not lifting his eyes from his notebook. Then he smiled, humor slicing softly through the moment.
—I know I’m beautiful and perfect, a delicious little snack... but I’m not Liam’s birthday cake that you ate in secret.—
Mason was about to laugh, until he heard the last part.
—Are you calling me a glutton?!—
—Isn’t that obvious?—
The fight came quickly, like always. Shoves, laughter, no trace of malice. Mason had learned to control his strength.
After all, Kieran had suffered enough fractures because of him. For years, they both called those lessons accidents.
Among all those adventures, the fights, the laughter, the games that ended in joy or punishment, there were simpler moments.
Moments so small Mason didn’t understand their value until much later.
They always began the same way.
He’d approach slowly, with a nervous smile that fooled no one, clutching a notebook to his chest like a confession. He’d hesitate one second, two. Then he’d hand it over.
Kieran would sigh before even looking.
He’d take the notebook without asking.
And on the pages lay the worst math results ever recorded. Numbers crossed out, red corrections everywhere. A grade so low it seriously made one question whether the wolf had a functional brain.
The wolf would watch in silence, wearing that crooked “will you forgive me?” smile, scratching the back of his neck.
Kieran would close his eyes. Count to three. Then pull out another notebook and a pencil.
—You know what the worst part is?—
He’d murmur, not looking at him.
—This isn’t lack of studying. This is pure talent for failure.—
And still, he’d sit beside him.
He’d explain patiently, sharply. Repeat himself. Draw diagrams. He’d do, literally, half the homework. Sometimes more.
To Mason, that was perfection incarnate.
Kieran was good at everything he touched. He cooked with whatever was around, as if chaos obeyed him. Fixed things that shouldn’t be fixable. Made everything work even when it made no sense.
To the wolf’s eyes, he was almost a god.
A sarcastic, bad tempered one. In a black jacket that seemed glued to him. But perfect.
That’s why his parents adored him.
Chancy and Roger had never truly agreed with their son being friends with a human. Humans were delicate, fragile.
Until they realized something.
The most fragile one in that house was Mason, setting fire to water. To the damn water. And Kieran... Kieran appeared out of nowhere with an absurd solution that worked.
The human put out fires. Literally.
Yes. They adored him.
Mrs.Chancy always smiled a little too much when she left Mason “in charge” of the house. Grateful, relieved.
Because she didn’t trust her son.
She trusted the human with common sense, who smelled like old money and premature responsibility. The boy who lived in a massive mansion inhabited by only four people. Very rich, yes.
They knew Mason would call Kieran the moment the house was free.
Kieran Callisto: home security system.
With him present, the house was safe. Mason, Liam, Lily, and Harry survived.
Without him... well.
Mason was an adorable idiot who, without supervision, would do something epically stupid and convince his siblings to join him.
Hence Harry’s story about the roof, using their mother’s wedding dress as a cape.
The human loved that story.
But every time Mason called him, he automatically became the Kane kids’ official babysitter.
—I’m pretty sure you’d all die without me—
He said once, drinking calmly.
Mason buried his face in the table.
—I should charge you.—
A laugh escaped Mason’s chest. And still... he smiled.
Because he knew it was true.
School held memories Mason couldn’t forget either. Not because they were good, but because he survived them.
Adolescence arrived uninvited. With awkward changes, erratic moods, acne where it shouldn’t exist, and a social stress designed to destroy any remaining dignity. Mason felt that while everyone else was growing, something in him was only just starting... and doing it wrong. Very wrong.
Every day was worse than the last.
And then, Kieran appeared.
He arrived like a fallen angel, or a demon. Black jacket draped over his shoulders, brow furrowed as if the world owed him money, two cups of coffee in each hand.
Always coffee.
He took his first. Then handed Mason the other, exactly how he liked it: strong, bitter, merciless. Venomous sarcasm included.
Mason accepted it like a sacred offering.
Thanks to Kieran, he survived that stage that worsened daily. Because while young Callisto scolded him for forgetting the day’s project, Mason was already on the moon. Literally planning a trip to Mars.
—Be grateful I did it—
Kieran said, slamming the project into his chest without looking at him.
—I put your name on it. Now run, we’re late.—
And they ran.
Through hallways filled with noise, with other people’s laughter, with stares the wolf didn’t understand. Coffee burning his tongue, his heart racing, Kieran always one step ahead, pulling him along without letting go.
Yes. He could endure anything.
As long as Kieran stayed.
Like any average teenage life, Mason insisted on joining the football team.
His parents said no.
Not because they didn’t believe in him, but because they were afraid. Afraid he’d lose control. Afraid that surrounded by humans who didn’t know what he was, something would go wrong. Only Kieran knew. His family too. If Mason hurt a human, the consequences wouldn’t just be serious, they’d be fatal.
When he told Kieran all this, he expected resistance.
What he got was a long look. Measured. The kind that judged without raising its voice.
—Seriously?—
Kieran said at last.
The wolf thought he’d talk about his strength, the genetic cheat, how unfair it’d be to others.
But no.
—Your grades are garbage—
He continued.
—No one accepts a functional idiot on the team, no matter how muscular he is.—
Mason blinked.
—You’ve got the body—
He added, sighing.
—You’re just missing the brain. Don’t worry... with my nonexistent patience, which officially resigned the day I met you, we’ll make it work.—
He didn’t question it.
Kieran never did.
The following days were academic torture.
Young Callisto forced him to read a chemistry book Mason couldn’t understand even if he stared at it for hours. Every time he drifted off, “clack”, a spoon to the head.
—Focus, useless wolf.—
Lily peeked into the living room just to laugh at his misery.
—Is that tutoring or abuse?—
—Both—
Kieran replied without looking up.
And it worked.
After enough blows, emotional and literal, Mason passed. According to Kieran, he didn’t get smarter, but at least he stopped being a danger to himself.
The day Mason got accepted onto the team, Kieran smiled.
Really smiled.
It was strange. Brief, but real.
After that, everything changed.
Cheerleaders, teammates. Easy admiration from people who knew nothing. The team became his world, and with it came bad habits.
Parties, outings, laughter that didn’t include Kieran.
Sometimes Mason saw him sitting alone in the stands. He’d gesture apologetically. Kieran would raise a thumb, calm.
Mason celebrated with the team.
Kieran stood up and left. Always with his phone in hand, arguing with his older brother about absurd things. Sibling things.
The wolf didn’t think much of it.
The human was always there when he needed him. Always.
Until one day he wasn’t.
Or he was... but differently.
He forgot the coffee.
Or mixed it up.
—Sorry—
He murmured.
—I messed up.—
He said another name by accident at the same moment. One Mason didn’t catch.
It wasn’t malice. Mason knew that. Kieran smelled of family stress, sleepless nights, losing Monopoly to his older brother, academic pressure. He looked awful.
Still, something didn’t sit right.
It was selfish to expect Kieran to always be there when Mason himself was drifting away. He knew that. And still...
Then it happened.
Blake had always been a good friend. Charismatic, easy. The kind everyone liked effortlessly. When the wolf realized whose name Kieran had whispered...
Something burned in his chest.
He saw them near the lockers. Kieran wasn’t social. Mason had once joked that his punishment in hell would be being forced to socialize.
And there he was.
Talking to Blake.
He shouldn’t listen. He shouldn’t feel this way.
Blake had a girlfriend. Marcella. Everything was fine.
Still, something didn’t fit.
—Kieran—
He called.
Blake turned, surprised.
—You know each other?!—
He exclaimed.
—You didn’t tell me!—
He pointed dramatically at Kieran, then at Mason.
—Didn’t you tell him we’re friends?—
Mason didn’t answer Blake. He only looked at Kieran. His voice came out like a complaint he couldn’t explain.
—You didn’t tell him I was yours.—
It wasn’t meant to hurt.
Just irony.
But it hurt.
It hurt to see confusion on Kieran’s face. Hurt that he didn’t understand his dramatics, hurt to realize he had no right to claim anything.
Mason forced himself to calm down.
Because it was true.
He couldn’t demand a place he’d begun to abandon himself.
The following days, Mason acted like nothing had happened.
As if there hadn’t been distance. As if the silence weren’t new. As if Kieran had never sat alone in the stands.
This time, he wrapped an arm around him every morning at school, with practiced naturalness. Like a silent reminder. As if the world needed to know, and Kieran too, that the spot was still taken.
He spoke close. Too close.
He dragged him to the training field more often than necessary. Afterward, he pulled him against his sweaty body without asking, as if touch were a valid excuse to avoid saying what he really felt. He smiled at anyone who dared stare too long.
It wasn’t friendly.
It was a warning.
Kieran noticed from day one.
—You’re clingy—
He murmured, frowning, not pulling away entirely.
—Does it bother you?—
The question came out low. Expectant.
Young Callisto made a face, thoughtful.
—No...—
He said finally.
—You just didn’t act like this a few months ago. You know I adore my personal space.—
He paused. Then added, with that dry, honest tone of his:
—Is it because I forgot your favorite coffee? Is this some kind of punishment? I already said I’m sorry. I mixed yours up with the one Blake’s girlfriend likes. It was just a favor for a few days... and you weren’t around.—
He didn’t say it defensively. Just explanatory.
Mason didn’t move away.
And Kieran sighed, accepting the explanation wouldn’t help.
—Fine—
He conceded.
—Just shower. You stink of sweat.—
Mason smiled. The wolf inside him did too.
Because even with the crack slowly growing, even with something broken neither named... Kieran was still there. Letting it slide, like always.
Stupid things never stopped. They only got worse.
Wrong paths. Impulsive decisions... and an inner wolf convinced he’d had the best idea in the world.
Because yes, girlfriends happened.
Yes. Like any average idiot.
None mattered. Names erased quickly. Hands that left no mark. A game, noise to drown out what he truly wanted. Mason never knew the exact plan. Or maybe he did... and refused to name it.
Because the more he grew, the more he waited.
He waited for jealousy. For a reaction, for Kieran to run toward him, to claim something, anything.
But Kieran didn’t.
He supported him. Always. With that quiet loyalty that asked for nothing. Sometimes he frowned hearing of another broken heart, sometimes he muttered about emotional responsibility. But he never judged.
He just set strange boundaries.
—Don’t involve me in your conquests—
He said once, not looking up.
—I’ve got enough with Blake and his romantic stupidity.—
Blake had forced someone on the team into a ridiculous scene for his girlfriend: him dressed as a prince, the poor bastard as a dragon. Everything was filmed. Instagram burned for weeks, laughter lasted all month.
Humiliating.
—If you ever do that to me—
Kieran threatened calmly.
—I’ll spit in your face.—
And that hurt more than Mason wanted to admit.
Because the person he wanted to provoke didn’t take the bait. Not with smiles, not with borrowed kisses, not with easy applause. His wolf had planned something brilliant, cruel... and utterly useless.
That was the trap.
And Kieran didn’t fall.
Not even when he saw him end things with yet another girl. He looked at him differently. Not angry, not disappointed.
As if he were seeing something that hadn’t been there before.
—You should think about other people’s feelings—
He said with a soft smile.
He gave him a light punch on the shoulder. No reproach, no drama.
—Come on—
He added.
—Let’s go eat something. Junk food. A lot of it. Like irresponsible teenagers.—
Mason followed.
Because even now, even with something broken growing between them, Kieran was still that quiet light that never left.
Nights became difficult. Not because of darkness, but because of what hid within it. Adolescence had reached a dangerous point: hormones, impulses, desires Mason had never felt. Everything exploded inside him, and the wolf clawed to get out.
He woke agitated. Heart racing, hands shaking. Every shadow seemed to hold memories of Kieran, his laugh, his eyes that saw beyond the facade.
His room was his territory. And his prison.
Because in his mind, Kieran was always there. Still, silent, watching him.
That was the worst part.
Mason sat on the bed, breathing deeply, trying to calm the storm in his blood and desire.
When had he stopped sleeping beside him? When they grew, obviously... and yet the wolf inside him demanded it, remembering closeness, warmth, shared laughter, small nightly battles.
The thought was dark. Mark, protect, claim. Desires he’d never felt for anyone else. He hated himself for wanting him this way, for feeling his body remembered what his mind feared.
He just had to control himself.
Because if one thing was true, it was this: Kieran didn’t belong to him.
Not yet, not now.
If soulmates existed as his mother said, if fate had a plan, there was no need to force anything. They’d find each other slowly, inevitably, even if Mason couldn’t wait.
The wolf growled, unhappy.
Mason clenched his fists, feeling heat he shouldn’t, desperation he couldn’t name.
—Wait—
He whispered to the empty room.
—Like we always did. For so long... we can wait a little longer.—
Because even in distance, even in silence, Kieran was happiness. Laughter. Everything Mason needed not to lose himself. And in that moment, the wolf calmed, just a little. Because he knew time was still on his side.
School was still the same. Noisy hallways. Scattered laughter. The smell of cheap coffee and old notebooks. A normal day. And for the first time, Mason didn’t feel the urge to ruin it.
He walked with his hands in his pockets, half listening to someone talking about exams and homework. The wolf was calm. Awake, but calm.
They sat together in class, like always. It wasn’t strange. Never had been.
Kieran leaned over his notebook, writing with exaggerated concentration, brow slightly furrowed.
Mason looked at him. No plans, no traps, no expectations.
The human looked up, as if sensing the stare. Their eyes met for a second. Just one, enough.
—What?—
Kieran asked, that familiar half smile full of sarcasm.
The wolf said nothing.
He just smiled.
And Kieran, after a moment, looked back down...
But he wasn’t writing the same thing anymore.
It was a normal day.
And this time, Mason wanted to do it right.