Chris nodded silently, his gaze drifting somewhere to the side as if searching for the right words. To fill the pause, he asked,

  "Why don't you tell me how your weekend went?"

  Gerda sighed. She didn’t know where to start, everything inside her tightened at the memory.

  "It was fine. I met up with a friend. Mary. But the real fun started later.

  At first, I thought I just caught a cold. You know, it happens. Chills, weakness. But then it got worse. My whole body felt like it was burning from the inside out, and my bones ached like an old man's before a storm.

  Mary... she tried to take care of me, but her smell, her voice, everything started to irritate me. I barely stopped myself from physically throwing her out of the apartment."

  She fell silent, her gaze dropping to the cup. After a short pause, she went on,

  "I was scared. Having Mary around only made it worse, and she couldn’t really help. So I stayed alone. Completely alone. I don't want to go through something like that alone again."

  She looked up, and there was fear and vulnerability in her eyes.

  Chris felt a sharp sting of sympathy and something else too, respect.

  Anyone else in her place would probably be having a meltdown or running around in a panic at the emergency room, but she was holding it together. A fighter.

  "Introduce me to Pete," Gerda said. "If I really am a wolf, if you have a pack that would take me in, I want to at least try. I'm tired of being alone."

  Chris stayed silent for a long time. His fingers tapped nervously against his knee, and his gaze stayed stubbornly fixed somewhere in the distance, avoiding her.

  Finally, he spoke.

  "I’m not sure you’re a wolf," he said quietly, almost regretfully. "What I saw yesterday didn’t look like any symptoms we’ve seen before. When I was holding you, I felt it. The fire of True Flame burning inside you.

  Wolves don’t burn like that.

  I have a guess, but I don’t want to throw words around yet, not until I’m sure."

  He let out a breath, like he was trying to shake a heavy weight off his shoulders.

  "But yeah, the transformation’s happening. And it’s moving fast. Way faster than it usually does with new awakenings. That’s dangerous."

  Gerda froze. Everything inside her went still. She didn’t know what scared her more — his words or what was hiding behind them.

  Chris suddenly looked her straight in the eyes, calm and steady this time.

  "Look, I want you to move in with me. Just for a while, at least. It’s safer that way. I’ll be able to keep an eye on you, help if anything goes sideways.

  I’m offering you help and protection. If you can trust me... give yourself a shot, Gerda."

  His voice was too steady. No flirting, no teasing. But under that even tone, she could hear something else, maybe an effort to hold back worry, a real need to help, even a flicker of hope. And it made something ache inside her.

  She changed the subject, not because she didn’t hear him, but because she needed a little time to pull herself together. To not fall apart too soon.

  "You know why I’m so drawn to you?" she said. "Getting stuck on someone without even knowing them... that’s not me at all."

  Chris tilted his head slightly. He watched her for a moment before answering. His voice stayed calm, easy, but there was a hint of interest in it.

  "Does it scare you?"

  Gerda looked away. Her shoulders lifted slightly, a small, tense gesture, like she was trying to hold herself together.

  "Not as much as the transformation. But yeah. It’s... like something foreign. Like your body gets rewired without your permission or a heads-up."

  Chris exhaled slowly. His brain worked faster than his mouth, but when he spoke, it was careful, deliberate.

  "Instincts. Hormones. And looks like you’ve got strong intuition too. My scent, my heartbeat, my voice — something in there is sending your body a signal. Stability.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Your body figured it out before you did."

  He fell silent. Somewhere in the back of his mind, like a dark lab flipping a switch, a thought clicked into place. Not fully formed yet, but stubborn enough not to let go.

  "Maybe," he said, his voice quieter now, "because I’m the male of your kind."

  The words sounded almost casual. Almost. But he saw the way she tensed.

  Her fingers shifted slightly on her cup, her lips trembled just a little.

  He felt it even from across the space between them, how her breathing changed, how her center of gravity shifted, how her heartbeat picked up speed.

  She didn’t answer right away, like she was fighting something inside herself.

  She bit her lip, lifted her eyes.

  He recognized that look.

  It was a challenge — to herself, to him, to everything they had left unsaid.

  "Alright... let's say you’re right. But..."

  The words just hung there, unfinished.

  He didn’t move. He didn’t get closer.

  He stayed still, just listening to her body’s reactions.

  Everything he needed to know had already happened.

  "Gerda, let’s not go down that road," he said, steady. "I don’t know much more than you do. I’m just guessing, same as you."

  She nodded slowly, then tried to turn it into a joke, a small smile tugging at her lips, but her voice wavered.

  "And your girlfriend... she won’t mind? I don’t want to cause trouble."

  Chris raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised, then gave a soft laugh.

  "I don’t have a girlfriend, Gerda."

  She stared at him, not believing him.

  "Seriously?"

  "Seriously," he repeated, a trace of irony slipping into his voice. "Why does that surprise you?"

  Gerda gave a short huff but stayed quiet. Some of the tension eased out of her shoulders.

  "Well... guys like you usually don’t just have one girlfriend. They’ve got one in every city. Honestly, I can already picture your jealous girlfriend hunting me down. Some fiery tigress in tight leather pants."

  Chris didn’t say anything, but he almost laughed to himself. She wasn’t wrong. He did have a weakness for cat types. And then he felt a small jab of guilt toward Ingra.

  Gerda took a sip of her coffee and, for the first time in what felt like forever, warmth spread through her chest.

  Maybe not everything was lost.

  Maybe this really was the start of something new, not the end of everything.

  "Listen," Gerda said, her voice dropping a little, but there was a strange steadiness in it. "If I’m not a wolf, then what am I?

  And what are you?"

  Chris tensed. He looked away, his jaw tightening.

  He hesitated for a few seconds, then finally said, slowly,

  "I don’t know, Gerda. If my guess is right, even in my kind there are a lot of subspecies. Each with their own quirks, their own physiology and energy... Some of them are pretty dangerous."

  She flinched slightly. Great. Here we go. Her throat went dry.

  "So you’re telling me you just invited a dangerous girl to live with you?"

  "I know what I’m doing," he said with a rough little laugh. "I’ve seen how you fight. With yourself, with whatever’s waking up inside you. It means you’re still holding on. And as long as you’re holding on, it’s not over."

  He stepped closer. His hand brushed over her shoulders in a light embrace, and he pressed a kiss to her temple. Just to calm her. Just to feel her warmth again. Just because he couldn't help it.

  "You’re not alone, Gerda. Even if you’re not one of us... you’re not alone."

  Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard her fingers started to tremble.

  He was too close.

  But even now, there was that strange invisible wall between them. Made of glass, or maybe ice. But even that couldn’t block out his heat.

  "And if I lose control? If the fire breaks loose?" she whispered.

  Chris looked at her seriously, no hint of a smile, no teasing.

  "Then I’ll be there. To hold you back. Or" — he hesitated for a second — "if I have to... to stop you."

  The words were both a promise and a warning.

  They looked at each other in silence. And somewhere in that silence, everything was already there — fear, hope, confusion... and something else. Something older, half-forgotten, half-remembered.

  "Alright," she breathed out. "Just... please. Don’t disappear afterward. Don’t pretend like it was all just 'keeping an eye on me'."

  He nodded, never breaking eye contact.

  "I won’t..."