Romance

  Aurora &#39;s Perspective
  The hot shower washed away the last chemical traces of the lab from my skin. My own soft pajamas felt foreign. I should have been relaxing, but I wasn&#39;t. Every muscle screamed for rest, while my brain whirred like a computer forced into a reboot—overloaded, frantic. Brett&#39;s face, Uncle Jacob&#39;s eyes dimming with instant despair, Aunt Selena&#39;s silently trembling shoulders… these images bombarded me, hurting more than any physical wound.
  I couldn&#39;t do it. I couldn&#39;t lie in my safe bed and pretend everything would be okay.
  I threw on a thick robe, my hair still dripping, and rushed downstairs. Light spilled from the slightly ajar door of the family&#39;s small conference room, along with the murmur of tense conversation and the heavy scent of cigar smoke—a sure sign my dad was under extreme stress. I took a breath and pushed the door 

  Aurora &#39;s Perspective
  Pushing open the door to &quot;The Propeller&quot; felt like stepping into the stomach of another world.
  The noise hit first—an avalanche of sound. The clatter of glasses, slurred shouts, the sharp *crack* of pool balls, all underpinned by a complex odor of stale beer, sweat, cheap tobacco, and something sharper no amount of air freshener could mask. The air was thick, the lighting artfully dim, providing just enough visibility while hiding most faces and transactions.
  My wolf senses were on overload. The smells were overwhelming. The sour tang of fermentation, the burn of cheap liquor, the greasy scent of human bodies, and… kin. More than one. Their scents were mostly murky, feral, carrying the gunpowder-stink of street-level struggle, raw desire, or simply numb apathy. The so-called dark creatures or stray wolves.
  A few pockets radiated considerable 

  Brett&#39;s Perspective
  Yeah, things have been pretty good lately.
  Don&#39;t get me wrong, my old life had its perks. School, homework, those &quot;meaningful&quot; summer camps my parents loved, even sneaking out for a street race… they had their moments. But compared to *now*? They were nothing.
  Now, it feels like I&#39;ve been rebooted. No—like I&#39;ve started actually *living*. Living like a wolf, not some domesticated, declawed dog taught to follow &quot;rules.&quot;
  Yard time is the best. Sunlight—even the weak kind filtering through razor wire. Cold air. Rough concrete. And the guys—no, the *wolves*. We shove, we roar, we fight over half a crumpled cigarette or an extra scoop of mush. The wet thud of fists on flesh, the sharp *crack* of teeth snapping near an ear, the raw, gritty smell of sweat, blood, and dirt… it gets my blood pumping faster than any music, any cologn

Aurora &#39;s Perspective
  The hot shower washed away the last chemical traces of the lab from my skin. My own soft pajamas felt foreign. I should have been relaxing, but I wasn&#39;t. Every muscle screamed for rest, while my brain whirred like a computer forced into a reboot—overloaded, frantic. Brett&#39;s face, Uncle Jacob&#39;s eyes dimming with instant despair, Aunt Selena&#39;s silently trembling shoulders… these images bombarded me, hurting more than any physical wound.
  I couldn&#39;t do it. I couldn&#39;t lie in my safe bed and pretend everything would be okay.
  I threw on a thick robe, my hair still dripping, and rushed downstairs. Light spilled from the slightly ajar door of the family&#39;s small conference room, along with the murmur of tense conversation and the heavy scent of cigar smoke—a sure sign my dad was under extreme stress. I took a breath and pushed the door open.
  Everyone was there. My dad, Ethan, sat at the head of the table, brow knotted, a long ash 

Chapter 264