Chapter 4 The Bite

And now here I was...

Beaten, assaulted, and stabbed. Bleeding out on the snowy asphalt. Looking up into the dark sky as time slowed around me.

Not stopped—slowed, like the world had been dragged underwater and everything now moved through thick resistance. Every heartbeat stretched into an eternity. Each thud of my heart arriving late, heavy, reverberating through my bones like a distant drum.

I could hear myself dying.

The sound of it was obscene in its intimacy.

Blood dripped from my side, each drop hitting the ground with a wet, hollow sound that echoed too loudly in the silence. I felt it leave me—not all at once, but gradually, my warmth leaking into the cold night. Even my tears betrayed me, sliding down my cheeks so slowly I could trace their path, could feel each one catch on my skin before falling away.

The stars above seemed brighter, sharper, as if they’d leaned closer to watch. The moon hung full and indifferent, a pale witness to my ending. 

It was beautiful in a way that made my chest ache—not with hope, but with grief for everything I would never touch again.

Mallows waiting by the door.

My father’s proud smile.

The weight of responsibility I’d finally accepted.

I laughed weakly, the sound cracking in my throat.

“So this is it,” I whispered to no one. “This is how I go.”

My phone lay hidden in my car. 911 must have answered. Maybe there was still hope.

But I wasn’t sure if they had heard my screams for help. Anyway, it didn't matter anymore. 

Then something blocked the moon.

At first, I thought my vision was finally failing. A shadow bled into the silver light, tall and broad, swallowing the stars behind it. My heart stuttered—not from fear this time, but confusion.

The shadow moved closer.

A man stood over me. And he was surprisingly naked.

His breath came out in harsh bursts, fogging the air. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, shaking with something violent and restrained.

“I saw everything,” he said.

His voice was rough, scraped raw by rage, and it cut through the fog in my mind. It seized what little of me remained and dragged it back from the edge.

“I saw what they did to you.”

“911 won’t get here in time,” he continued, jaw tight. “You’re bleeding too fast.”

I blinked up at him, trying to focus. “Then… why are you still here?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. His gaze dropped to the blood beneath me, to the wounds that should have killed me already.

“Because there’s another way,” he said quietly. “But you won’t like it.”

My vision swam. The forest seemed to tilt.

“I can help you live,” he went on. “Not the way you were. Not clean. But alive.”

A bitter laugh bubbled up in my chest. “Alive sounds… negotiable right now.”

His lips twitched, but there was no humor in it. Only sorrow.

“It’s painful,” he said. “And it’s a curse. One you can’t take back.”

Something in his tone—final, reverent—sent a chill through me that had nothing to do with the cold.

“But it will give you time,” he added. “And strength. Enough to avenge yourself.”

The word avenge rang louder than the rest.

Faces flashed in my mind. Smiles twisted into sneers. Hands on my skin that should never have been there. Laughter echoing as they walked away, certain I’d never tell my story.

My body trembled, not from fear, not from the cold, but from rage.

“Yes,” I whispered. I wasn’t sure what I was begging for anymore—mercy, death, absolution. “Please. Help me."

He knelt beside me, close enough that I could smell him now—champagne on his breath, expensive cologne and beneath it all, something wrong. Something... wild.

His eyes softened at my plea. He brushed a strand of my dark hair off my face.

“I warned you,” he said. “If I do this, you won’t be the same.”

“I don’t think,” I breathed, my voice breaking, “that I can afford to be.”

Something passed through his expression then, and I knew he’d made up his mind.

“I’m sorry,” he said, "but this is going to hurt."

And then he growled.

The sound tore through the forest, raw and inhuman, ripping from his chest as his body convulsed. Bones cracked with sickening force, the noise loud enough to make me flinch. His spine arched, limbs stretching too far, joints bending where they shouldn’t.

I watched, frozen, as skin split and fur burst through, dark and thick, swallowing human flesh. His hands—no, paws—dug into the ground as claws carved deep grooves into the frozen earth. His jaw elongated, teeth pushing out into long, glistening fangs as his scream twisted into a growl that vibrated through my ribs.

My heart slammed against my chest.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

His eyes snapped open—no longer human, burning gold in the moonlight, filled with a hunger that was terrifying and precise. He lifted his head, nostrils flaring as he scented the air.

He hovered over me for a breathless moment, fighting himself. I could see it—the restraint, the war raging behind those glowing eyes.

Then he lowered his head and sank his teeth into my neck.

Pain exploded through me—white-hot, blinding, absolute. It struck like fire searing through my nerves, like lightning ripping through muscle and bone, like ice locking everything in place at once. My blood burned as it surged through my veins, every nerve screaming under the combined assault.

My back arched as a sound tore from my throat, half-scream, half-sob. I wanted it to stop. I begged for it to stop. Every thought collapsed into that single, desperate wish.

Then it was gone.

The pain vanished in an instant, not because it eased, but because my heart stopped. For a brief, terrifying moment, there was nothing. No rhythm. No sound. No sensation at all.

Silence stretched into emptiness. My vision narrowed, fading to darkness.

Then—

Lub.

Dub.

My heart lurched back into motion.

Air tore into my lungs as I gasped, like I’d been held underwater for too long.

I was alive.

I closed my eyes, letting the truth settle into my bones.

I had survived.

And this time—I would not be prey.