After running endlessly as a wolf he tired off quickly and was unconscious lying naked on the road, completely knocked out.
Mark woke up tied to a chair.
Metal restraints bit into his wrists and ankles—overkill for a human, standard procedure for a wolf. The room was small, concrete, windowless. One flickering light overhead.
He smelled Wolves
Four of them .
Not calm.
Not disciplined.
Nervous.
They stood too far apart. Shifted their weight. One cracked his knuckles like he wanted a reason.
"You know why you're here," the man in front said.
Mark tested the restraints without looking down. Solid.
"No," Mark replied. "I don't."
"You roamed Free last night," another snapped. "Open streets. Full moon."
Mark lifted his head. "so what I didn't hurt anyone."
"That's not the rule," the first man said. "The rule is not to be seen."
Mark frowned. "By who?"
The room went quiet for half a second.
"Hunters," someone muttered.
Mark's eyes sharpened.
"There's a vow," the man continued. "Made years ago. Wolves stay hidden. No roaming. No public shifts."
Mark leaned back slightly. "I didn't agree to anything."
"That's not how it works," another wolf scoffed. "Your pack decides it for you."
Mark's stomach tightened. "What pack?"
They exchanged looks.
"You don't know?" one asked slowly.
"No."
The man closest to him tilted his head. "Which family are you from?"
Mark blinked. "what does it have to do with my family."
"Wolves are born," the man said carefully. "Not made. No bites. No curses."
Mark swallowed.
"If you're a wolf," another added, "your parents are too."
The word hit like a hammer.
"No," Mark said instantly. "They're not."
"Then where did you come from?" the man pressed. "Which bloodline?"
Mark's pulse spiked. A thought he'd never allowed himself surfaced—
What if they aren't wrong?
What if I am-
Someone sighed impatiently. "He's playing dumb."
"Or he's unregistered," another said. "Either way, this is a problem."
The first man leaned forward. "We need answers. If he won't talk we ask his parents." he looked towards other guy " hey get me the Swintons right now."
Something snapped.
Mark moved.
His shoulder dislocated with a sharp crack—intentionally. Pain flared, but he ignored it. The slack gave him enough room to twist, he ripped one restraint loose, and whip the chain across the man's throat.
Complete Chaos in the room.
Mark didn't fight like a wolf.
He fought like someone who'd learned how to survive cages.
He used the other end of the whiped the Chain on another man's throat, he pulled the lm together wrapped them in those same chains while dodging the other two. Used concrete wall to knock them out. He picked the chair shattered it against another man's face. Using the legs of the chair as sticks and started beating them up. Joints locked, bodies slammed until they stayed down.
No killing.
Only silence.
Mark stood breathing hard, chain hanging loose from his hand.
"Stay away from my family," he said. "They don't know anything."
The wolves groaned, terrified now.
"And neither did I," Mark added.
He turned and walked out.
Behind him, the enforcers lay broken—not by strength alone—
But by the realization that they had just touched something far outside their clearance.
4:07 A.M.
Mark slipped through the back window of his house like a ghost that didn't belong there.
The kitchen was dark. The clock on the microwave blinked 4:07 in dull green light. Everything smelled normal—detergent, dust, last night's rice. Human smells.
He stood still for a long moment.
No alarms.
No movement.
No wolves crashing through the walls.
Just home.
Mark washed the dried blood from his hands in silence. It swirled down the sink pink, then clear. He stared at his reflection in the dark glass of the window.
Your parents must be wolves too.
The words wouldn't leave.
He checked on them next. His father snored softly. His mother had kicked the blanket off, one arm dangling over the bed. Normal. Warm. Fragile.
Human.
Mark closed the door gently and retreated to his room.
4:26 A.M.
He sat on his bed, chain marks still faintly visible around his wrists.
Born, not made.
No bite. No curse. No ritual.
Then what was he?
Memories replayed differently now.
How he healed faster.
Why fevers never lasted.
Why he hated mirrors on full moons.
Why he'd always felt… late to his own life.
Adopted.
The thought settled like poison.
Not proven.
Not denied.
Just possible.
Mark lay back and stared at the ceiling.
Sleep didn't come gently.
It dragged him under.
6:03 A.M.
His alarm went off.
Mark woke like someone coming back from drowning.
Two hours. That's all his body took. No stiffness. No soreness. The marks were already fading.
Not human.
He showered, dressed, packed his bag. Same uniform. Same shoes. Same routine.
But everything felt like it belonged to someone else.
Before leaving, he looked at his parents again.
"I'll figure it out," he whispered—unsure who he was promising.
8:01 A.M.
The school gates loomed ahead, loud and alive. Students poured in, laughing, shouting, complaining about homework and teachers.
Normal kids. Normal problems.
Mark stepped through the gates—
And stopped.
Simon was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, pretending not to watch the entrance.
Iris stood beside him.
Waiting.
The moment she saw Mark, her eyes locked onto his.
Not worried.
Not angry.
Sharp.
"You look like hell," Simon said. "Rough night?"
Mark stopped the moment he saw them.
Simon.
And Iris.
Standing together.
Waiting.
His chest tightened.
He walked up to them slowly, eyes never leaving Simon's face. The noise of the school faded into static.
"You told her," Mark said.
Not loud.
Not angry.
Just… disappointed.
Simon blinked. "Bro—"
"You told her," Mark repeated, sharper this time.
Simon ran a hand through his hair, glancing at Iris, then back at Mark. "She saw you transform, dude. There was nothing I could do to hide it."
Mark's jaw clenched.
Simon continued, lowering his voice. "You think I wanted to explain that? You went full horror-movie in front of us."
Iris didn't interrupt. She just watched Mark—them both to just solve themselves out.
Simon leaned in. "And relax. She's not gonna tell anyone."
Mark scoffed softly. "You don't know that."
"Yes, I do," Simon shot back. "She has no friends except me. And she's not stupid."
Iris finally spoke.
"I do have friends" she said embarrassed glaring at Simon. "And don't you worry I don't plan on telling anyone."
Her eyes didn't leave Mark's.
Not fearful.
Not excited.
Curious.
"And if I wanted to ruin you," she added, "I wouldn't be standing here."
Mark exhaled slowly.
The bell rang in the distance.
Simon clapped his hands together, forcing a grin that didn't quite land. "Cool. So. Super-secret monster stuff before first period—great way to start the week."
Mark looked at Iris again.
She gave him a faint, unreadable smile.
Whatever he was…
It wasn't a secret anymore.
And the worst part?
He wasn't sure that was a bad thing.