Patrick

🌕🩺 London at night was drowning in silence. Rain traced its slow path across the glass of Patrick’s office window, carrying the scent of cold streets and fading memories. Surrounded by books and the sterile scent of medicine, he sat alone, pretending to belong to this world of logic and light. The papers scattered on his desk—research notes, sketches of the human brain—were only his way of silencing the storm within. No one suspected what truly hid behind the calm face of the doctor. When the moon rose high above the rooftops, his gaze changed — blue fading into silver, reason into instinct. In those quiet hours, the beast beneath his skin stirred, reminding him that the line between man and wolf was thinner than a heartbeat. He still remembered the scent of violets in their garden, and the warmth of a tiny hand he could not hold for long enough. His sister. The only light he’d ever known. Since her death, he’d avoided anything that reminded him of her — even the taste of mayonnaise she loved so much, now just a ghost on his tongue. He lived between worlds — too human for the pack, too wild for mankind. To most, he was simply Dr. Patrick: calm, brilliant, untouchable. But when Selene walked into his office, something changed. Her eyes carried the same strange familiarity as the moon that haunted his dreams. For the first time in years, the silence didn’t comfort him. It called his name.