Fell For You

The Broken Wolf

"W-why didn't you just... you know, kiss him anyway?" Kristina groans from my bed, one arm cradling a popcorn bowl like it's a newborn.

I nearly drop the hair dryer. "Shh! And no. It didn't feel... I don't know—proper."

She rolls over and drapes herself upside down off the mattress. "Why don't you both just kiss and go out already? The suspense is killing me."

I pluck a popcorn. "Because we won't. And I'm not gambling my best friend on feelings I'm not even sure he'll return."

She sits up and facepalms. "Yes, yes, yes. He will. I can see it in his eyes."

I snort. "That's the corniest thing I've ever heard."

~

Dinner is louder because I won't shut up—apparently grief has a hyper setting.

"What's got you all hyped, hun?" Mum asks, passing peas to Melissa.

I shrug, blushing. "It's just... a good day."

Mum squints. "Getting drenched in the rain qualified as 'good'? Since when?"

Kristina snickers. "It's not the rain. It's a someone."

I choke on nothing and glare at her. Mum's eyes sparkle like she's twelve. "Henrik, did you hear? Our Melody is growing up!"

Dad deadpans, "I want this boy's name, address, and favorite flower."

I giggle. "Dad, relax. Kris was kidding. Right, Kristina?"

She tries to look innocent, fails. "Def."

I'm gearing up to dig myself out when a sound rips the room in half—a raw, soul-deep howl. Then another, braided with it. Two wolves, mourning. The note rattles the windows, threads straight through bone.

Silence drops like a curtain.

Dad goes pale. Mum looks like she might be sick. Kristina's jaw locks; her fork bends in her hand like it's made of tinfoil. Only Melissa, still reaching for salt, hasn't clocked the shift.

"Wolves?" I whisper. "In La Push?"

Dad clears his throat. "Don't worry about it. Kids, wash up and get to bed. Your mother and I have things to discuss."

Kristina is already on her feet, storming upstairs without a word. I rinse plates with hands that won't stop shaking, then shower, then stare at plastic stars on my ceiling until the shape of them blurs. Something's wrong. I can feel it in my hide. I call Seth. Straight to voicemail.

By 10:43 p.m., the house is too quiet, the forest even quieter, like everything is holding its breath. Sleep finally drags me under.

~

Sobbing yanks me back up.

It's morning, pale gold trying and failing to conquer the fog. I brush my teeth, shove into bunny slippers, and pad downstairs.

Mum is folded into Dad like she's breaking. Kristina perches on the armchair, face carved from stone.

My stomach drops. "What's going on?"

Mum hiccups, "My sweet—my baby—"

"Mum?" I step forward. "What happened?"

Dad's voice is rough. "I don't know if we should—"

"Tell me."

Mum swallows. "Harry... Harry died. A heart—"

I don't hear the end. I'm already out the door, sprinting. Fifteen minutes to the Clearwaters if you run like you're hollow. Bunny slippers slap the path. Rain spits, then hurries.

They're on the porch when I get there—the Hall Monitors On Steroids, arranged like a wall. No Leah. Seth must be inside.

"Melody, you shouldn't be here," Jacob says, stepping down to intercept.

I glare up at him. "I ran fifteen minutes. Move."

Paul plants himself in my way. "Leave. Not safe."

Something ugly snaps in me. "Listen, Paul La-whore, I didn't come for you. Get out of my way before I make you."

He steps forward, shaking, a growl dragging up his throat. The others tense.

"Paul," Sam warns.

Jacob shoves me back, a human shield. "That's my sister, asshole. Control yourself."

Paul's tremor turns violent. His skin... ripples. I stumble, heart in my mouth.

"Paul!" Sam barks, but it's too late.

It happens in a breath. Sound tears. Clothes explode. Where a boy stood is a wolf the size of a nightmare—brown fur bristling, jaws flashing, eyes burning. He snarls and launches—and the world narrows to teeth and impact and I can't even scream—

—and then a sandy blur slams him sideways, earth juddering under the weight. A second wolf plants itself between me and death, shoulders squared, a low, murderous growl rolling out of its chest like thunder. He glances back once—just once—and those eyes are familiar in a way that knocks the air out of me.

"Jacob," I whisper, because even if I don't understand anything else, I know my cousin's gaze when it finds me.

The sandy wolf steps forward, claiming ground, claiming me. Paul whips around, lips peeled, and lunges again. Sandy meets him midair. The crash shudders through the porch boards; fur and fury tumble into the yard.

I can't move. I can't breathe. The legends are not bedtime stories. They are teeth and heat and grief right in front of me.

Strong hands grab my shoulders and rotate me away. Embry's face, strained, the old softness ghosting his eyes for a second before the soldier's mask slams back on. "Inside," he says, voice low and urgent. "Now."

"I—Seth—" My throat clicks.

"He's with Leah," Embry says, and the three words shake. "Go."

Sam's out front barking orders in a language that's half human, half wild. The fight surges; the pack moves as one. I back toward the door on rubber legs, fingers numb, vision tunneling and widening all at once.

A minute ago I thought my life was changing because I maybe, possibly, liked my best friend.

Now I'm watching the boy who used to braid his sister's hair defend me with a set of claws.

And somewhere inside this house, the boy with the minty breath and warm hands is grieving a father who will never walk back in.