I didn’t tell Gabriel where we were going. After school, we skipped the buses, cut through a few side streets, and took the long road out of town toward the coast. The late-afternoon light was sharp and gold, filtering through the pines until the trees opened up into a stretch of rocky shoreline far from the public beach.
No people. No noise but the crash of waves and the low call of gulls.
“This is… remote,” Gabriel said, glancing around.
“That’s the point,” I replied, stepping over a driftwood log and motioning for him to follow. “Out here, nobody’s going to see what happens if you lose control.”
His brow furrowed. “Lose control of what, exactly?”
“You’ll find out.”
We stopped on a flat stretch of sand scattered with dark stones. I faced him, studying his posture, his breathing, the way his eyes darted around like he could sense something coming.
“Remember how you felt the other day,” I said, “when you stared that guy down at the door and just knew he was going to move?”
“Yeah.”
“That was your wolf starting to stir. We’re going to wake it up a little more.”
His mouth opened like he wanted to argue, but I stepped in close, resting a hand against the center of his chest. “I want you to stop thinking about being human for a second. Think about power. Strength. Survival. The part of you that knows what you are, even if your mind’s been ignoring it.”
He swallowed hard. “And then what?”
“Then,” I said, letting a thread of my own wolf energy bleed into the air between us, “you let it take you.”
It started slow — the change in his breathing, the way his pupils widened, the subtle shifting of his stance like his body was aligning to something primal. His hands curled into fists. I could smell the adrenaline starting to spike.
Then it hit him.
His shoulders rolled back as the muscles along his arms thickened under the fabric of his hoodie. His jaw tightened, teeth bared in something between a snarl and a gasp. I caught the flicker of dark claws starting to edge from his fingertips before sliding back, like the wolf was testing the air.
“Holy…” His voice trailed off as his head tilted back slightly, eyes half-lidded. “God, this feels—” He cut himself off with a sharp inhale, chest rising like every breath was a hit of pure electricity.
I could see it in his face — the rush, the intoxication of raw strength and sharpened senses. His stance was looser now, confident, like the idea of anything hurting him was laughable.
“Don’t fight it,” I said. “Just feel it.”
His gaze snapped to mine, and for a moment there was no hesitation in him — just a raw, hungry thrill. “I feel like I could tear down the world right now.”
“That,” I said, “is your wolf talking.”
It lasted maybe a minute before I eased my hand back and the energy between us thinned. His breathing slowed, his stance softened, but the look on his face was somewhere between dazed and exhilarated.
“That was…” He shook his head, grinning despite himself. “Incredible. Like… better than anything.” His voice dipped, almost embarrassed. “And I mean anything.”
“Yeah,” I said with a faint smirk. “That’s the hook. Now you know why control matters — because that high can own you if you’re not ready for it.”
He nodded, still catching his breath. “When do we do it again?”
“Soon,” I promised. “But next time, we push it further.”
And from the way he looked at me then, I knew he wasn’t just ready — he was hungry for it.