I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.

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Lucas's Perspective

The forest was alive with violence. Every branch seemed to shake, every shadow vibrated with the force of claws cutting into bark and boots hammering the dirt. Isaac came at Malia with no hesitation, no thought, only animal rage. His movements were wild, uncontrolled—swings of his claws arcing so fast they whistled through the air, each strike with the singular intent to rip her apart. He didn't look human anymore; he looked like something the full moon had torn loose from its cage. Every furious snarl carried the weight of raw instinct, primal and merciless.

But Malia wasn't like him. She didn't meet savagery with savagery. She flowed. She adapted. If Isaac was fire, then she was water—shifting, bending, refusing to be consumed. Every time he lunged for her throat, she wasn't there. She slipped beneath his arm, pivoted on her heel, twisted out of reach with a dancer's grace. Her movements carried confidence born of repetition, of years spent learning control that Isaac had never even started to grasp.

When she struck back, it wasn't reckless—it was precise. Her fists and feet moved like punctuation marks between Isaac's chaotic sentences. A sharp kick slammed into his ribs, making him stumble. A quick shove redirected his momentum so that he hit the trunk of a tree instead of her. A snapping jab to his jaw disoriented him for just an instant, pulling more stamina from him than from her. She wasn't trying to hurt him—she was wearing him down. Cutting into his frenzy, piece by piece, until exhaustion would do her work for her.

The forest became their battlefield, the night echoing with the clash of beasts locked in two entirely different states of being. Isaac's claws shrieked against wood with every missed strike, bark splitting under his fury. The harsh smack of fists against flesh rang out again and again, the rhythm almost unbearable. His roars shook the branches overhead, making the leaves vibrate like the air itself was trembling at his rage.

I stood back, watching. It was more than just a fight—it was a contrast written in blood and sweat. Isaac was the storm, a whirlwind of force that thought only of destruction, throwing himself forward with no sense of preservation. Malia was the eye within that storm, calm precision wrapped in speed and grace. Her spins were sharp, her claws cutting through the air like lightning. If he was chaos, then she was the balance that stood in its way.

"Come on," Malia hissed through gritted teeth as she twisted away from another reckless slash. Her claws swung in a quick arc, catching Isaac across the chest before her body darted away like smoke. "Is that really all you've got?"

Isaac staggered from the impact, but the hit only seemed to fuel him. His head snapped up, eyes blazing the unnatural yellow glow of the wolf fully in control. His chest rose and fell like a beast struggling against invisible chains, yet somehow he surged forward again. The moon itself seemed to be pumping energy into his veins, driving him farther than his body should have been able to go. Yet even a river floods to a breaking point, and I could see it—flaws creeping into his movements, his arms starting to falter. His once brutal swings began to drag, slower, sloppier. His growls carried the edge of fatigue.

And still, desperation had claws of its own.

Malia slipped—just once. It was a fraction of a second, hardly noticeable, but in a dance like this, fractions were deadly. She turned her head, distracted. That hesitation was all Isaac needed. He dropped low in an instant, his body coiled like a spring, and then his claws swept out, catching her across the legs.

The strike landed brutally. Malia's balance broke, her body slamming to the ground with a sickening thud. The forest seemed to hold its breath.

Isaac's snarl ripped through the night, unholy in its fury, and then he pounced. He was all feral intent, claws descending like knives, angled to tear into her unprotected abdomen. There was no restraint now, no flicker of the man. It was kill or nothing.

Heat burned behind my eyes as crimson light erupted in my vision. Power surged through my chest, steady and inescapable, spilling outward until the clearing seemed smaller, tighter, filled with the force of my will. I locked eyes with Isaac, pinning him in place.

Isaac froze mid-motion. The feral rage faltered. His body trembled, caught between instinct and obedience. Then he jumped back. His chest heaved, his claws still extended, but he lowered himself to the ground, crouching low. His face turned away, eyes averted. His claws lifted into the air—not in threat, but in surrender.

Complete submission.

For the first time since he lost control, a spark of clarity flickered in Isaac's expression. His gaze was still clouded, still drowning in the pull of the wolf, but now he surfaced just enough to breathe.

I let the glow fade from my eyes. My voice was calm when I turned to Malia, who was pushing herself upright, brushing dirt and bark from her arms with an annoyed scowl. "You let your guard down," I told her flatly.

She grumbled something under her breath—defensive, annoyed, but also embarrassed.

Instead, I turned back to Isaac. He still crouched, trembling, his every muscle taut with restraint. But my presence kept him from spiraling again, kept him anchored in that small glimpse of sanity.

"You're doing well," I said firmly, making sure my voice carried authority layered with reassurance. "For your first full moon, this is good. But don't try to force the wolf into submission. That only makes it fight harder. Instead… try to talk to it. Communicate. Find common ground."

For just an instant, I saw it—a flicker of recognition in his eyes, like he understood, even if faintly. His lips tightened, his head dipped—barely a nod.

And then, like the wind itself pulled him into its current, Isaac spun and bolted into the forest. His form blurred between the shadows of the trees, flashes of moonlight catching on his figure until he was gone, swallowed by the night.

I released a deep breath. The clearing felt empty now, too quiet after the violence that had just torn it open.

Malia moved to stand beside me, her expression unreadable, though I could tell my words had taken root in her thoughts. She stayed silent, mulling them over.

"Go after him," I told her softly. "Make sure he doesn't hurt anyone."

She gave a sharp nod before sprinting into the trees, leaving me alone in the moonlit clearing.