Harley’s P.O.V.

I had always thought strength meant clenched fists, sharp claws, and the ability to stand alone no matter how heavy the world became.

That was how I was raised among the werewolves, where power was measured in muscle and dominance. You fought your own battles.

You bled, healed, and moved on. Asking for help, especially from a witch, was whispered about like a shameful secret. Magic was for the weak, for those who couldn’t defend themselves.

On the other hand, vampires were nothing like us. They lived on secrets and shadows, on mind games and rituals whispered in candlelight.

Where werewolves trusted brute force, vampires trusted spells, contracts,...