I never believed in werewolves. Not really.

They were fairy tale creatures, myths you read about in old books or saw in cheesy horror movies. They didn’t exist. Or so I thought.

But last night… everything changed.

Lucien D’Argon—cold, arrogant, infuriating Lucien—was a werewolf. No, not just a werewolf. A cursed one. A dangerous one. And yet, when I saw him in that room, broken and burning with pain under the full moonlight… I didn’t see a monster.

I saw a boy trying so hard to hold himself together.

And something in me cracked.

I should have run. Any sane person would. My legs were shaking. My heart felt like...