.𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢.
𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝑭𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔

La Push, WA.
March 2010

                 𝑻he drive to Quil's house was short, just a few minutes, but for Maija, it felt like an eternity. As they neared the familiar house, anxiety slammed into her like a wave, tightening her chest. Her leg bounced uncontrollably, and she chewed her nails—a tell Paul recognized instantly. He knew it because he did the exact same thing when he was anxious.

"Something wrong?" he asked softly, putting the truck in park.

Maija locked eyes with him, her lips parting to speak, but then she froze. "Yeah I—" suddenly her gaze shifted to the driveway, where a familiar car was parked. Her heart sank. "What the hell is Layla doing here? She and Quil aren't friends."

Paul's brow furrowed, annoyed. He'd been this close to getting her to open up, and now he'd lost her. "You were saying?" he pressed.

But it was no use. Maija was already out of the truck, slamming the door and storming toward the house. Paul watched her go, conflicted. He wanted to stay and figure out what was going on, but Sam's call twisted in his gut, pulling him away. With a reluctant sigh, he drove off, heading toward the pack.

Maija's bad feeling grew with every step toward the house. Why was Layla here? Layla, who had been her friend, her confidant through all of this mess with Quil.

Quil and Layla weren't even close—just casual acquaintances at best. The thought that something might be going on behind her back sent a sharp pang through her chest.

She pounded on the door, her heart racing and her mind spiraling.

Quil's mom answered with her usual warm smile. "Maija! Welcome, come in, come in." She pulled her into a hug, as if no time had passed since Maija's last visit. His mom had always loved her; Maija had practically lived at their house during elementary school. But there was hesitation in her voice as she added, "Quil's in his room. He's, uh... got company."

The word hit like a slap. Company. Maija's heart dropped.

"I'll be quick, just grabbing some of my things," she said, forcing a polite smile. Quil's mom nodded and retreated to the kitchen, leaving Maija standing in the hallway.

She stared at the closed door at the end of the hall, dread settling in her stomach like a lead weight. She knew Quil too well. A closed door meant something he didn't want anyone else to see.

Her palms were clammy as she walked down the hall. She took a deep breath, bracing herself, and then shoved the door open.

She froze.

There they were. Quil and Layla, tangled together on the bed. His arms were wrapped around Layla, holding her the same way he used to hold Maija, his lips pressed to hers.

Maija's world spun. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Her chest felt like it was collapsing under the weight of betrayal.

Quil pulled away immediately, startled by the sound of the door slamming open. His eyes widened in horror when he saw her. "Maija," he breathed, his voice filled with dread.

She didn't respond. Couldn't respond. The scene in front of her said everything she needed to know. She turned and bolted, her vision blurred with tears.

"Maija!" Quil shouted, scrambling to follow her. He barely had time to grab a shirt before running after her, his belt still unbuckled. Layla hesitated, looking more embarrassed than remorseful, before slinking out of the room and down the hall.

Maija was out the door when Quil caught up to her, grabbing her arm. "Maija, please!" he begged, spinning her around to face him.

"Maija, please what?!" she spat, her voice trembling with rage. Her eyes darted to Layla, who had followed them outside, lingering awkwardly by the porch. Maija glared at her. "Fuck off," she hissed, her voice icy. Layla didn't argue, slipping away without a word.

As soon as the door slammed shut, Maija's tears came flooding back. "What the hell, Quil?!" she screamed, her voice cracking. "How could you? When did this even start?!"

Quil felt like he was suffocating. The heat in his chest was unbearable, like something was clawing its way out of him. "Maija, I—nothing was going on when we were together!"

"We weren't together," Maija snapped bitterly. "You made that clear when you called me a bitch."

"After you called me a piece of shit," he shot back, struggling to keep his composure.

"Well, you kind of are," she bit out, her voice dripping with venom. "Considering you screwed my best friend."

"We didn't," Quil admitted, inhaling sharply as the fire inside him flared. "You stopped this before it got that far." He sat on the porch steps, burying his head in his hands. His body felt like it was tearing itself apart from the inside.

Maija crossed her arms, trying to shield herself from the pain threatening to overwhelm her. "Oh, really? How did it start, then? And put your damn shirt on. Your belt's unbuckled, too," she added coldly. She felt sick, like someone had grabbed her stomach and twisted it inside out.

Quil sighed, pulling on his shirt and buckling his belt. "We got paired for a project. We've been hanging out more, and—I like her, Maija."

Her breath caught, and she laughed bitterly. "Good luck with that," she said, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. She stepped closer, for a second her face softened. But then, her next words cut like a knife.

"I'm done with you. You're an arrogant piece of shit, and I want nothing to do with you. Never speak to me again."

She turned and walked away, leaving Quil shattered on the porch.

Quil staggered toward the door, his entire body aflame with a heat he couldn't control. His head felt light, dizzy, and a wave of nausea hit him like a ton of bricks. He stumbled through the doorway, sweat poured down his face as his hands gripped the wall for support.

"Layla," he muttered, his voice shaking. "I... I don't feel good. I'll see you at school."

Layla raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "So, you want me to leave? Is this because of her?" She scoffed, the edge in her tone sharp.

"Layla, I'm not doing this right now, please just go," Quil pleaded, his words strained, as he struggled to keep himself from losing control.

With a roll of her eyes, Layla grabbed her bag, not bothering with another word. She left, the sound of the door clicking shut behind her barely registering in his mind. Quil barely noticed it as his body was already betraying him. The heat in his chest was unbearable, like something was pushing against his ribcage, and he couldn't stop it.

He called out hoarsely, "Mom!" His voice cracked, the pain rising in his chest making it harder to breathe.

His mother emerged from the kitchen, her face going pale the moment she saw him. The sweat on his forehead, the color draining from his face—she knew what this was. She knew this was only the beginning. Her own father, Quil's grandfather, had been part of the pack. She'd learned early on what could happen, what Quil was capable of.

"Mom, what's happening to me?" Quil gasped, his voice breaking as panic set in. His entire body trembled, and his vision blurred.

His mother's heart broke for him. She couldn't say what she needed to say—he wasn't ready. "It's okay, baby, just—just try and stay calm," she whispered, taking a step back. The fear in her eyes was unmistakable, but there was nothing she could do. He was too far gone now, and without the ability to control it, the shift would be catastrophic.

Without the pack, without Sam there, he could hurt himself, or tear her apart. She quickly backed into her room, the door clicking shut behind her. She quickly locked the door, her heart hammering as she struggled to shove her dresser over her doorframe—hopefully it would keep him out. Her hands shook as she grabbed the landline and dialed Sam's number.

Quil's body started to convulse, his muscles seizing uncontrollably. His bones cracked as they shifted, the excruciating pain making him cry out. His skin burned as if it was being pulled in every direction. His entire body was being restructured, his human form disintegrating into something else.

He couldn't understand it. He didn't know what was happening to him. Panic surged through him, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he collapsed to his knees, trying to fight the transformation. His heart raced, his chest tightening as his body took on its true form.

In the small, dimly lit living room, the first painful stages of Quil's phasing took hold. The agony was unbearable, but there was no turning back now. The beast inside him had awakened, and it was only a matter of time before it was fully unleashed.

The transformation finally reached its peak. Quil's body contorted violently as his skin stretched and bones shifted into a new form, no longer human. His eyes glowed with an animalistic rage and fear as his consciousness was swept away in the primal instinct of the wolf. He no longer recognized his own body, his mind consumed by the overwhelming need to run, to flee, to release the chaos inside him.

The pain was unbearable. His jaw stretched into a muzzle, sharp teeth protruding as a deep, guttural growl rumbled in his throat. His arms elongated into muscular limbs, fur sprouting in thick patches over his body as his senses sharpened beyond anything human. The floor beneath him felt alive, and the scent of the forest, the wind, the world outside flooded his nose.

But he had no control. Quil was lost to the wolf, driven by raw, untamed instincts. His claws scraped against the hardwood floor as he tried to steady himself, but the energy within him surged, forcing him forward in an uncontrollable sprint. The sound of the door splintering echoed through the house, the wood breaking apart beneath his strength as Quil tore through it with reckless abandon. The world outside beckoned him, the trees towering like silent sentinels waiting to swallow him whole.

He ran.

He ran with no destination, no purpose other than the urge to escape. The woods were the only place he could think of, his mind too muddled to focus on anything else. His feet pounded against the earth, and his claws dug into the ground, propelling him faster, deeper, further into the wilderness.