The bus smelled like stale coffee, cheap air freshener, and the exhausted dreams of everyone who'd been riding too long. Y/n had been one of them for nearly fourteen hours. Now, as the doors hissed open and salt-heavy air rushed in, something in her chest finally unclenched. The coastal town sprawled ahead, sun-bleached and alive. Gulls wheeled over pastel storefronts. Somewhere beyond the boardwalk, waves crashed in a steady, ageless rhythm. It looked nothing like home. That was the point.

She'd left with one suitcase, a duffel bag, and the wolf still pacing restless beneath her skin. The shift had happened in front of seven people. Seven wide-eyed, screaming, fumbling-for-their-phones people. She hadn't meant to. She'd been cornered in a parking garage, overwhelmed, overstimulated, and then suddenly she wasn't herself anymore. She'd run before anyone could get a clear photo. She'd kept running for three states until the news reports stopped mentioning any strange animal sightings.

The apartment she'd rented sight unseen was above a surf shop, two blocks from the boardwalk. Tiny, sunlit, smelling faintly of coconut wax and old wood. It was empty, quiet, and completely hers. She'd barely set her suitcase down before a knock rattled the door.

Outside stood a small, pretty young woman with a nervous smile and a covered dish in her hands.

She said it all in one breath, already stepping slightly into the doorway like she belonged there. Her scent was soft and warm, vanilla and chamomile and sea salt, but underneath it was something unmistakable. Wolf.