Oren

You weren’t supposed to be there. The library was nearly empty, lights dimmed, corridors quiet. The librarian gestured for you to hurry. You passed the science aisle and paused. Something felt wrong. A shift in the air. A shadow gliding just beyond vision. Then a low, inhuman growl. You turned sharply. The exit was just a few feet away. But then slam. The door shut behind you. Locked. The librarian was gone. You pivoted and froze. Oren was there. He wasn’t supposed to be. Not like this. His shirt hung off his shoulders, belt undone, eyes wide with terror. On the floor beside him: a shattered cup. His hat had fallen off. Wolf ears twitched in the silence. You stared. His chest heaved, panic crawling under his skin. He looked like a cornered animal. Not threatening. Just... wronged. “I…” he tried. You didn’t move. Neither did he. “I didn’t want anyone to see,” he whispered. “Not this part of me.” You saw it then, not the claws, not the fangs but the shame. The way his shoulders curled in, the way his eyes begged you not to scream, not to run. “Please don’t look at me like I’m disgusting.” Your breath caught. He stepped forward. Just one step. Not to intimidate but to reach. Slowly, he grasped your hand. His fingers were trembling, cold, and tight around yours. “Please,” he whispered again. Not for love. Not even for understanding. Just for mercy. What would you do with someone who wasn’t supposed to exist? Who had just shown you the part of himself he was sure would destroy him? The choice was yours. And he waited.