The night was dead quiet. Not even the crickets made a sound under the heavy full moon.
Jeremy looked over at Marcel, standing in the clearing with his eyes glowing that weird silver-grey. "You ready, Alpha?" he said, trying to sound casual but feeling the tension tight in his chest.
Marcel didn't even crack a smile. He never did on full moon nights. "Hell no," he said flat. "But the moon doesn't care if I'm ready or not."
They were deep in the woods, the pack spread out like shadows under the moonlight. When Marcel stepped forward, the others lowered their heads. No one said a word. He was their Alpha, and tonight, he was in charge.
Marcel was 25 now, but those full moons still hit him like a freight train. The shift started slow, then crashed through him like fire ripping through his veins. He dropped to his knees, gasping and screaming, bones snapping, muscles twisting in all directions. The pain never got easier, not even after all these years.
Jeremy felt it too, pressing a hand to his ribs as the change hit. "Every damn time," he said through gritted teeth before the pain took over.
The clearing filled with howls and snapping bones. Skin turned to fur. Fingernails stretched into claws. Then quiet.
They were wolves.
Marcel, bigger and darker than the rest, stood in the middle. His black fur caught the moonlight. He wasn't just the leader,he was their protector, their judge, their king. The pack waited for his signal. One sound from him, and they would rush into the forest like a storm.
But Marcel didn't move right away.
Inside, the wolf stirred not at the pack, but at memories he couldn't shake. When he was nineteen, that beast controlled him. Every full moon was chaos,he tore through everything, no control, no mercy, just raw rage.
But not now.
Tonight, Marcel was the one in control.
His breathing slowed. The madness in his eyes faded, replaced by something fierce and calm, like a storm held back. He flexed his claws, digging into the earth not hungry, but grounded.
Then he took off, silent and deadly, leading the pack.
Jeremy stayed back, half-shifted, watching. "He could've been a monster," he said quietly, eyes fixed on Marcel. "But instead, he became a king."
Marcel paused near a brown-furred female, his birth mother. She had come back to the pack recently. The way they touched, quiet but intense, told Jeremy everything. He looked away with a sad smile. No mother. No family. Just Marcel and his endless sarcasm.
Morning hit hard.
Marcel, back in human form, stood by his office window, sharp in black slacks and a dark shirt. The city looked calm, nothing like the wildness from last night.
Jeremy burst in, shirt half-buttoned, damp hair messy. "Okay, full moon or not, do we have to drag our werewolf asses to work? I swear, I got slammed by a truck or something."
Marcel didn't look away from the window. "Pain builds character."
Jeremy flopped into a chair. "Yeah, and kills your sense of humor." He looked up. "So… Lucy?"
Marcel finally turned. "No. Call Claire. The wedding's in two days."
Jeremy's jaw dropped. "You're serious?"
"Dead serious."
"You screamed like you were dying last night, and now you're planning a wedding? Like it's no big deal?" Jeremy paced. "Lucy's gonna figure something's wrong. You're the Alpha of a werewolf pack, dude."
Marcel looked tired not from the shift, but from whatever was eating at him inside. "She won't find out. We're not in love. It's a business deal. She's marrying me to save her dad."
Jeremy gave him a hard look. "You say that like it'll stay that way."
Marcel ignored him. "Claire handles everything. Guest list, press, the works.i'm having a royal wedding." He sighed. "I'll tell Claire once Lucy signs the papers."
Jeremy shook his head, exhausted. "Alright, Alpha. But if this all blows up, I'm blaming the moon."
Marcel smirked rare for him. "Blame every damn full moon then."
####
Later that day, Lucy stood in front of the thick glass at the prison, the phone cold in her shaking hand.
Her father looked older than she remembered. His hair was a mess of grey, and his eyes were heavy with regret. When he saw her, he gave a tired smile.
"Lucy," he said, pressing his palm to the glass. "You came."
She nodded, trying to smile. Her throat felt tight. "I have something to tell you."
He straightened a little, hope creeping into his worn-out eyes. "Did you talk to Marcel?"
She nodded again. "He agreed to help… but there's a catch."
His smile faded. "What kind of catch?"
"I have to marry him. For two years."
The words dropped between them, heavy and still.
"What?" he breathed.
"I already said yes," she added quickly. "I'll sign the papers tomorrow. This is happening. You're getting out."
"No." His voice broke. "Lucy, no. You can't do this for me."
"I want to," she said, though her voice shook. "It's my decision."
"Because of my mistake?" His hands curled on the table. "You're tying yourself to someone who doesn't care about you… who probably blames you for what I did?"
"He doesn't care about me," she admitted quietly. "But he's giving me a way to help you. That's all I need right now."
He leaned forward and rested his forehead against the glass. A tear rolled down his face.
"I should've protected you," he whispered. "Not the other way around."
"You did what you could," she replied, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Let me do this, please."
The guard raised his hand, signaling that time was up.
Lucy slowly stood, placing her hand on the glass over his. "I'll be alright," she said. "Just come home and try again."
He didn't speak. He only cried, quietly and
alone, as she walked away.
"Alright, man. Let's go," the guard said, leading him back to his cell.