The moment the moon rose, I knew something was wrong.
It started in my bones—an ache, a burn—deep in my core. Heat pulsed through me like wildfire, coiling low in my belly and making my skin hypersensitive. Every scent around me felt amplified, every heartbeat too loud. My wolf stirred, restless, pacing, howling at the edge of my consciousness.
I was in heat.
And it made no sense. I had just turned eighteen last week. Most she-wolves didn’t experience their first heat until much later. But mine had come early. Violently. Unforgiving.
I slammed my bedroom door shut and locked it, pressing my forehead against the wood as my breath came out in ragged gasps.
“Avelyn?” My mom’s voice came from downstairs. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
“I’m fine!” I shouted, voice strained.
It was a lie.
I
