Page 72 of Bitten, Marked, Obsessed

The change comes faster than I expect—not as much pain this time. No panic. Just a slow roll of heat under my skin, a tug in my spine, the stretch of something ancient waking up inside my blood, uncurling.

Fur ripples across my arms. My fingers curl into claws. My vision sharpens until I can see every line in the bark across the clearing. It’s still painful, but in a controlled way, especially knowing that it will end soon. I don’t fight it.

Iride it. Iamit. I am the beast. I amme.

I drop to all fours, lungs expanding, and a sound rips out of me—half howl, half growl, halfvictory.

Dad smiles.

It’s not a warm smile. It’s proud, maybe. Impressed, even. But not soft.

Still, I’ll take it.

When I shift back—sweating, shaking, but not broken—I sit in the dirt and laugh, not caring I’m in tattered clothes, half-naked.

Not because anything’s funny. But because I feelalive. More than I ever did before the bite. Before the dream. Before all of this.

I’m not the same girl who used to count every calorie and worry about college apps and pretend I didn’t hear the fights through the walls.

I’m someone else now. Someone more. Someone whole. And for the first time, I feel in control. At least a little bit.

Dad tosses me a flask and grabs extra clothes from a sack he had. “You earned it.”

I take a sip and nearly choke. “That’s not water.”

“Never said it was.”

I wipe my mouth. “Thanks. For this.”

He nods once. “You’re stronger than I thought.”

And for a second, it feels like a compliment.

Until he adds, “Don’t let that become a weakness.”

I swallow the burn in my throat and nod. Then realization hits me. “Wait, what about triggering the flag, or whatever happened last time?”

Dad shakes his head. “This was controlled. The instant emotion fueled changes from you are what flags the system. They aren’t looking for controlled transformations for werewolves, only shifters.”

I take a breath and another sip, calming myself and letting me believe that it’s all going to be okay… eventually.

Later, back in my room, the adrenaline starts to crash. I sit on my bed, still wearing dirt-streaked clothes, and stare at the ceiling.

My phone buzzes. A text from Callum.

You okay?

I type back:Yeah. Just shifted. Controlled it. It felt... insane. Good.

Three dots.Proud of you.

I stare at the words longer than I should but I don’t respond. Part of me can’t stop thinking about tomorrow. About Adora. About the look on her face. About the lie she didn’t quite tell. And the feeling in my gut that she knows more than she’s sharing and it could get us all killed.

30

CALLUM

Adora moves like she’s been training for years. And that’s the damn problem.

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