The video call with Dr. Eliana ended, but Maria remained staring at the bnk screen. Today's session had touched on something unexpected—not her wereanimal nature or her parents, but the blood farm where she had spent most of her life.

  "Tell me about the other people in the blood farm," Dr. Eliana had asked near the end of their session. "The ones who listened to your teachings about the Light."

  Such a simple question, but it had opened a floodgate. How long had it been since Maria had thought of them? Weeks? Months? In her focus on her own discoveries, her own healing, she had pushed aside memories of those she'd left behind. Rebecca, who had protected younger resources from the worst of the overseers. Old Thomas, who had taught her the first words of the Light's teachings that she had ter expanded into the Church of Eternal Light. The twins, Jacob and Sarah, barely eight years old when she st saw them.

  All still there. All still suffering. All still believing they were being punished for sins.

  Maria rose from her chair and moved to the window. The sprawling grounds of Gabriel's estate spread out before her, peaceful in the te afternoon sun. A world away from the sterile corridors and crowded barracks of Blood Farm #17.

  Her rational mind understood why she was here while they remained there. Gabriel had expined the fragile bance between vampires and humans—how if humans were given freedom, they would likely hunt down and destroy all supernatural beings, including wereanimals like her. She understood the cold logic of it. Baron Cassian and Viscount Gabriel were considered radicals among vampire nobility for their treatment of humans and wereanimals as anything more than resources.

  But understanding didn't stop the memories. The despair that had permeated every corner of the blood farm. The hollow eyes of resources who had been drained too frequently. The silent tears of mothers separated from children born in captivity. The quiet desperation as they gathered for her services, clinging to the hope of eventual redemption through suffering.

  Something hot and unfamiliar burned in Maria's chest. Her hands began to shake.

  You had no right to leave them behind.

  The thought struck with unexpected force. She had escaped. She had learned the truth—that vampires weren't demons, that she wasn't cursed. She was learning to read, sleeping in a comfortable bed, eating well-prepared meals while they continued to suffer in ignorance.

  They made you believe you were cursed.

  A new thought, sharper and angrier than the first. The humans in the blood farm—the older resources who had taught her the myths about the Light's punishment—they had condemned her to years of shame and self-hatred. They had made her hide what she was, fear what she was, because they told her she was cursed.

  Thomas filled your head with lies about punishment and sin.

  Old Thomas, not her father but the man from the blood farm who had first whispered to her about the Light's judgment. Who had pnted the seeds that grew into her Church of Eternal Light. Who had conditioned her to believe that suffering was divine punishment, that she must accept it without resistance. Who had molded her into the perfect resource—one who not only accepted her pce but convinced others to do the same.

  Lord Constantine treated you like livestock.

  The vampire lord who had separated her from her parents at birth. Who had sent her to the blood farm as a newborn. Who had watched dispassionately as resources died from overfeeding or disease or despair. Who had created a system designed to break bodies and spirits alike.

  You believed their lies. You spread their lies.

  She had taken their teachings and expanded them. Made them more eborate, more compelling. Given hope to the hopeless, but hope based on falsehood. Made their captivity more bearable not by fighting it but by justifying it.

  The Light doesn't care. It never did.

  If the Light existed at all, it had watched silently as she and countless others suffered. Had offered no comfort, no intervention, no justice. Had allowed vampires to rule and humans to suffer and had done nothing.

  The burning in her chest spread, consuming her thoughts. She had never felt this before—this white-hot rage that seemed to scorch her from the inside out. All the anger she had suppressed for years, channeled into peaceful acceptance and religious fervor, suddenly unleashed.

  She wanted to scream. Wanted to break something. Wanted to tear apart everything around her with her bare hands.

  A growl rose from her throat, startling her with its animal quality. She looked down and gasped. Her hands... her fingers were shortening, nails lengthening into curved cws, dark fur sprouting across her skin.

  The sight should have terrified her. Instead, it felt right. Her body responding to her rage, giving her the tools she needed to express it.

  With a cry that was half human scream, half wolf howl, Maria spun and sshed at the nearest object—the elegant wooden chair where she had sat for her therapy session. The cws tore through the upholstery with satisfying ease, sending stuffing flying.

  It wasn't enough.

  She turned to the desk, sweeping the tablet and books to the floor before digging her cws into the polished wood surface, leaving deep gouges. Still not enough. The rage demanded more destruction, more release.

  The heavy curtains came next, shredded to ribbons. Then the bedding, torn from the mattress and ripped apart. The mirror on the wall shattered under her fist, gss tinkling to the floor as blood smeared across the remaining shards—blood that didn't matter, that healed almost as quickly as it appeared.

  Through it all, her mind raced with fragmented accusations. Bming the blood farm humans who had fed her lies. Bming Old Thomas who had twisted her need for meaning into submission. Bming Lord Constantine for his cruelty. Bming vampires for their rule. Bming the Light for its silence. Bming herself for believing, for preaching, for accepting.

  So much rage. So much hate. Her partially transformed body wasn't enough to contain it. She needed more—needed teeth to bite, needed a stronger body to destroy.

  The door opened. Gabriel stood framed in the doorway, his expression a mixture of concern and caution.

  "Maria?" he said softly. "Dr. Eliana warned me something like this might happen. It's all right to be angry—"

  The sight of him—a vampire, one of those who had built this world of suffering—was too much. The predator in her recognized another predator, a threat, a target. With another howl, she unched herself at him.

  Gabriel didn't fight back, not really. He defended himself, blocking her sshing cws, diverting her attacks away from his face and throat, but he made no offensive moves. He let her rage against him, allowed her fury to spend itself on his immortal body.

  "It's all right, Maria," he said between blocking her strikes. "Let it out. You've held it in too long."

  His calm voice only enraged her further. She wanted him to fight back, to give her justification for her fury. To behave like the demon she had always believed vampires to be.

  It still wasn't enough. The rage demanded more. Her clothes tore as her body continued shifting, bones cracking and reshaping, fur spreading across her skin. The transformation she had never consciously experienced before was happening now, driven by pure emotion.

  The pain was intense but somehow cleansing. Every breaking bone, every stretching muscle felt like the physical manifestation of the rage that had broken free inside her. She fell forward onto newly formed paws, her human mind receding as the wolf emerged fully.

  Now she had teeth. Now she could truly attack.

  She lunged at Gabriel again, jaws snapping. This time her teeth found purchase in his arm. The taste of vampire blood filled her mouth—cold and ancient, nothing like human blood. Gabriel hissed in pain but still didn't strike back. He tried to pull away, but she held on, growling deep in her throat.

  "Maria," Gabriel said, his voice strained but still calm. "I know you're in there. I know you can hear me."

  She couldn't form human words, but she understood him. Some part of her—the human part she had always believed disappeared during transformation—remained aware. She could feel the wolf's instincts, the predatory drive, but her consciousness remained her own.

  She bit down harder, satisfaction flooding her as Gabriel winced. Then bit him again, on the leg this time, as he tried to move away. Then his shoulder as he attempted to calm her with outstretched hands.

  The wolf wanted to keep attacking, to tear into this vampire until he fought back or fled or fell. But with each bite, with each taste of blood, a little of the mindless rage drained away. The physical expression of her fury was gradually diminishing its power over her.

  After what felt like hours but was perhaps only minutes, she found herself standing in the center of the destroyed room, sides heaving, tongue lolling from her wolf muzzle. Gabriel stood against the wall, his clothes torn and bloodstained, wounds already healing on his arms and shoulders where she had bitten him.

  "Are you back with me?" he asked quietly.

  She was. Completely conscious, completely aware—in a wolf's body. She could feel every muscle, every sensation through fur and paw pads. She could smell a thousand scents she'd never noticed before—Gabriel's ancient vampire presence, the dust beneath the bed, the lingering scent of the cleaning products used on the floor that morning.

  Most importantly, she could think. She wasn't lost in the transformation. She was still Maria, just in a different form.

  The realization was so shocking that the rage abruptly dissipated, repced by wonder. She looked down at her paws, turning them slightly to see the dark cws extending from each toe. Twisted her head to see her own fur—reddish-brown with silver streaks like her human hair.

  "That's it," Gabriel said, taking a cautious step toward her. "You're all right. You're still you."

  Maria took an experimental step, then another, marveling at how natural it felt to move on four legs. Then she caught sight of herself in a fragment of the broken mirror—amber eyes staring back from a wolf's face, intelligent and aware. Not a curse. Not a punishment. Just another form she could take.

  Dr. Eliana had warned this might happen. Maria remembered that from her sessions—how strong emotions might trigger transformation, how rage in particur could awaken the wolf. But she hadn't expected to remain conscious, to maintain her human mind in wolf form.

  A whine escaped her throat as the implications sank in. All those years, all those transformations she couldn't remember—she could have been aware. Could have experienced them instead of fearing them. Could have known this part of herself instead of rejecting it.

  Gabriel carefully lowered himself to a sitting position against the wall, giving her space. "The first conscious transformation is usually overwhelming," he said quietly. "Take your time. Feel what it's like to be in this form. When you're ready to change back, focus on your human shape."

  Maria paced the room, stepping carefully around broken gss and torn fabric. Every movement revealed new sensations, new awareness. Her sense of smell was so acute she could detect the individual flowers in the garden outside her window. Her hearing caught conversations from the kitchen staff two floors below.

  For the first time in her life, she wasn't afraid of what she was. The rage that had triggered the transformation had burned away the fear, leaving only wonder in its pce.

  After exploring the room and cautiously approaching Gabriel—who remained perfectly still as she sniffed at his healing wounds, her wolf instincts needing to verify he wasn't a threat—Maria found herself growing tired. The emotional and physical strain of the transformation began to weigh on her.

  Remembering Gabriel's instructions, she focused on her human form, imagining her body returning to its familiar shape. The transformation back was slower, less dramatic than the rage-fueled shift into wolf form. Bones reshaping, fur receding, paws lengthening into hands and feet. When it was complete, she knelt on the floor, naked and exhausted but completely human again.

  Gabriel politely averted his eyes and reached for an undamaged bnket from a chair, offering it without looking at her. Maria wrapped it around herself, suddenly aware of her state.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered, looking at the destruction around them. "I don't know what happened. I just... I remembered the blood farm, and everyone still there, and suddenly I was so angry..."

  "You don't need to apologize," Gabriel said, finally looking at her now that she was covered. "Dr. Eliana warned me this might happen. Repressed emotions, especially rage, often emerge during therapy. And for wereanimals, strong emotions can trigger transformation."

  "I attacked you," Maria said, horrified as the memory became clearer. "I bit you."

  Gabriel smiled faintly. "I've endured far worse in my decades. Vampire healing takes care of it quickly enough."

  Maria looked around at the destroyed room. "I ruined everything."

  "Things can be repced," Gabriel said simply. "Your healing is more important. And Maria... you were conscious in your wolf form. Do you understand how significant that is?"

  She nodded slowly. "I remember everything. I could think, could understand what you were saying. I was... me. Just in a different body."

  "That's a breakthrough many wereanimals take years to achieve," Gabriel told her. "The ability to maintain consciousness through transformation is usually the result of long training and gradual acceptance of dual nature. You achieved it in your first conscious transformation."

  "Because I was so angry," Maria reflected.

  "Perhaps. Or perhaps because you were finally ready to face that part of yourself." Gabriel shifted slightly, wincing at his healing wounds. "How do you feel now?"

  Maria considered the question. The rage had burned itself out, leaving her drained but somehow lighter. As if a weight she hadn't known she was carrying had been lifted.

  "Tired," she admitted. "But... not afraid anymore. Not of the wolf." She looked up at Gabriel, her expression troubled. "But I'm still angry about the blood farms. About all the people still suffering there."

  Gabriel nodded gravely. "That's a just anger, Maria. One that many of us share, though we express it differently. Baron Cassian works to improve conditions within the system. I try to create a better model in my own territory. Others work in different ways."

  "It's not enough," Maria said.

  "No," Gabriel agreed. "It isn't enough. But it's what we can do for now, within the constraints of our world."

  Maria stared at her hands, remembering how they had transformed into paws. How natural it had felt, once she stopped fighting it. "I want to learn more," she said finally. "About being a wereanimal. About controlling the transformations."

  "I believe your parents would be happy to help with that," Gabriel said carefully.

  "Not yet," Maria replied, surprising herself with her certainty. "I'm not ready to see them. But maybe... maybe Dr. Eliana could help me understand more about what happened today. Why I was able to stay conscious when I never could before."

  Gabriel nodded. "I'll arrange another session for tomorrow, if you wish."

  "Thank you," Maria said, then added, "for letting me attack you. For not fighting back."

  "You needed to express your rage more than I needed to defend myself," Gabriel said simply. "Sometimes healing requires breaking things. Including oneself."

  As Gabriel helped her to another room where she could rest, Maria reflected on what had happened. The rage, the transformation, the consciousness she had maintained throughout. It felt like the beginning of something new—a different understanding of herself and her pce in this complex world.

  The wolf was not a curse. It was a part of her, just as her anger was a part of her. Neither needed to be feared or suppressed. They just needed to be understood, integrated, accepted.

  It wasn't a complete healing—not yet. But it was a start.