The Wolf’s Insight

4

To say that my world collapsed at that moment is an understatement of the raw, visceral agony that consumed me. I had finally found my mate—the missing piece of my soul—only to lose her in a heartbeat, swallowed by the indifferent tide of a train station crowd. I knew nothing of her, not her face, not the sound of her voice, only the intoxicating ghost of her scent lingering in my senses like a bittersweet memory.

It was a perfume that defied definition; a delicate symphony of roasted chestnuts, the sharp, refreshing bite of bay leaves, and the ancient, comforting smell of old books. It was a scent that spoke of secrets, of stories waiting to be told, and of a belonging I had never known. A scent that would haunt my existence forever.

I had tasted the heavens, felt the rhythm of the universe pulsating in my own veins, only to be cast back into the darkest abyss of solitude. "Why, Moon Goddess?" I screamed silently into the void. "What is the meaning of this cruelty? Why show me my heart only to snatch it away before I could even touch her hand? Have I not suffered enough?"

The sounds of the world around me faded into a muffled, distant drone, as if I were submerged in an endless, lightless ocean. There was no one left—just me and a mate now irrevocably lost to the distance. I didn’t even realize I was weeping until a single, burning tear fell onto the cold granite platform, shattering along with all the illusions I had dared to build. I wiped my face with a trembling sleeve and drew in ragged, uneven breaths to calm the wolf that was howling in my chest, a creature refusing to accept that she was gone. I returned to Chase and Brianna, donning the mask of normalcy I had perfected over years of torment.

Chase sensed something, his voice thick with concern as he asked why I had vanished. I offered a lie that tasted like ash: I had thought I recognized someone from my past, a phantom. For the sake of his happiness with Brianna, I forced a smile—a jagged, painful effort—so as not to dim the light in their eyes.

While I had been lost in my own wreckage, they had planned their day. Brianna suggested places I knew by heart, places that were merely landmarks to them but monuments of isolation to me. Chase only wanted to be near her, and I could not hold it against him. I would have given my immortality to be in his place. My wolf let out a low, pathetic whine of longing, but I suppressed it, burying the ache deep beneath layers of forced indifference.

I could not endure much more of their joy. "Forgive me, you two," I said, my voice steady. "I have urgent matters to settle. You go on; perhaps I will meet you for lunch."

Brianna’s voice was touched with genuine regret. "Oh, there’s no need, Kaelen. If Chase must also go, we can do this another time." She was clearly falling for him, and the swiftness of their bond made my own loss feel all the more catastrophic.

"No, don't worry," I insisted, though my heart was breaking. "These are personal errands. Chase, you stay. Behave yourselves." I threw a warning glance at my friend, a silent plea to protect the love he had found.

I turned toward the station exit, my footsteps heavy, my spirit shattering with every stride. I knew these streets; my nose mapped them out—the smell of fresh asphalt, the acrid bite of exhaust, the stagnant heat of the city. I waited for the bus, my soul feeling as fractured as the concrete beneath me. When the vehicle groaned to a stop, I asked the driver, "Excuse me, does this go to the center?"

The man didn't even turn his head. "Yeah, can’t you read the sign, or are you blind?"

The sheer, unintentional cruelty of it sent a surge of lethal rage through me. I had two choices: succumb to the despair eating my insides or unleash the predator within and silence him forever. At that moment, I found the second option dangerously seductive.

"I am blind, you idiot," I snarled, stepping onto the bus and ripping off my dark glasses to reveal the haunting, milky white of my unseeing eyes. The driver’s heart skipped a beat, his pulse spiking with sudden, primal fear. He recoiled, silent. Good.

Twenty minutes later, I collapsed into Chase's apartment. After a torturous struggle with the keys and the lock—a pathetic display of my limitations that made me despise every deity in existence—I finally made it inside. I threw myself onto the sofa, eyes squeezed shut, desperately trying to reconstruct the moment of her presence. I had to find her. My sanity, and the sanity of the wolf who echoed her scent in every fiber of my being, depended on it.

I replayed it over and over: the platform, the cacophony of scents, and then her unique signature, the loudspeaker, the shoving crowd, the cold glass of the doors, and the way her scent vanished into the uncaring wind. Where did that train go? I had been so lost in the chaos that I hadn't listened. I fumbled for my phone, using the voice synthesizer to search the departure schedules.

Two trains had left at that time: one for Vanderhoof, one for McBride. Which one held my world? 

If only I could see, everything would be so simple. I imagined her—kind, brave, perhaps with long, dark hair. She would be beautiful in the quiet way that had already undone me.

I had spent my life since the attack believing that my blindness was a cage, that I was destined to live this hollow, semi-immortal life in complete isolation. That terror had defined me. I wasn't afraid of death; I was afraid of dying alone, a ghost wandering through a world of light I would never know. 

But as soon as Chase returned, everything would change. I would tell him, and we would hunt her down. I didn't care if it took a lifetime. I would find her, no matter the price, no matter the distance. I would find her, or I would burn the world down trying.