CHAPTER 222

CHAPTER 222
AMARA

“Cass,” I started,

“I get why you’re asking. I’d be asking the same things if our positions were reversed. You’re right—we’ve been inseparable since we were kids. Sleepovers, late-night roof talks, drunk Uber rides home, that camping trip we still pretend didn’t happen… you’ve seen me at my messiest, my sleepiest, my most hungover. And you never saw fangs. Or fur. Or claws. Or anything remotely wolfy.”

I paused, letting that sink in, watching her eyes search mine for the catch.

“That’s because there wasn’t anything to see,” I said.

“Not until recently. My wolf side wasn’t just hidden—it was locked. My birth mom—my real mom—put a spell on me when I was a baby. She made my wolf dormant. Completely suppressed. No shifting. No heightened senses. No moon cravings. No nothing. I grew up human—fully, completely human—because she wanted me safe. Normal. Away from the pack wars, away from the people who’d want to use me or hurt me for what I carried in my blood.”
Cassie’s mouth parted again, but this time no rant came out—just a small, stunned breath.

“The spell was strong,” I continued.

“It held for years. Through kindergarten paste-eating, through middle-school sleepovers, through high-school heartbreak, through every single moment we’ve shared. That’s why you never saw fur in the bed. That’s why I never howled in my sleep or scratched at doors or shed a single hair that wasn’t normal human hair. The wolf was there—buried deep—but it was asleep. Silent. Until…”

I trailed off....

"Until recently,” I finished softly.

"The spell broke. Or… cracked, I'm not sure. The first shift. It happened fast. Violent. Terrifying. And it’s still new. I’m still figuring it out. But before that? There was nothing to see. Nothing to hide. Because there was nothing awake to show.”

Cassie stared at me for a long, long moment—eyes glassy, searching, like she was replaying every memory we’d ever made together and trying to spot the glitch she’d missed.

“So… all those years,” she whispered, voice cracking,

“you thought you were human? Actually human? No secret wolf waiting to pounce?”

“Yes.” I confirmed.

“No secret wolf. No hidden claws. Just me. Just Willow. Just your best friend who hated camping, screamed at spiders, and cried over stepped-on snails.”

Cassie stared at me, mouth still half-open, tears still clinging to her lashes, but the manic edge in her eyes had shifted—

...

Cassie stared at me for another beat, then let out a short, disbelieving huff that hovered somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
“So… your mom basically hit the snooze button on your inner wolf?” she asked slowly, voice cracking between raw disbelief and that morbid, almost morbidly amused fascination she always fell into when reality got too absurd to process straight.

“Like, ‘sorry kid, you’re too young for fur and fangs—let’s just keep you human until the plot needs you’? That’s… that’s next-level parenting. Or next-level child endangerment. I’m honestly not sure which one wins the award. Did she at least leave a note? Like, surprise! You’re a werewolf-witch now—have fun with the claws and the coven drama, love Mom’?”

I gave a small, watery.

“Pretty much,” I said.

“Except there wasn’t a note. No letter. No warning label. And the truth when it finally hit me like a freight train going full speed downhill.”

Okay,” she said, the word wobbling but fighting to steady itself.

“Okay. Okayokayokay. Processing. Still processing. My best friend is a werewolf-witch with a sleeping wolf curse from her super-mom. Cool. Totally cool. I’m fine. I’m processing. I’m not freaking out. I’m—

She cut herself off with another strangled laugh-sob, then looked at me—really looked—like she was seeing me for the first time in years.

“You swear this isn’t some elaborate prank?” she asked, voice small and thin.

"On the sacred pact that we never fight over the last slice of pizza again. No prank. No hidden cameras. Just… me. Just Amara. Just your idiot best friend who still can’t parallel park and still eats the last gummy worm without asking.”

She stared at me for another long second—chest still rising and falling too fast—

“Okay,” she whispered again, almost to herself this time.
“Okay. I believe you. I hate that I believe you, but… I believe you.

Because you’re still you. Right? Like… underneath all the fur and spells and secret names… you’re still the girl who once ate an entire family-sized bag of sour gummy worms and then cried because her tongue hurt?”

I nodded, throat tight, the words barely making it past the lump there.

“Yeah,” I whispered.

“Still her. Still your friend. Still the one who’d fight anyone who hurt you. Including myself if I ever scared you like this again.”

She was quiet for a long beat—long enough that I started to worry it meant she was shutting down, pulling away.

Then—slowly, hesitantly—her arms loosened from around her knees.

She unfolded just a fraction.

I didn’t think. I just moved.

I leaned in and pulled her into me—gently at first, giving her every chance to push away—and wrapped my arms around her shoulders.

She stiffened for half a heartbeat, breath catching, then melted against me like every ounce of fight had drained out of her at once.

Her arms came around my back, tentative, then tighter, fingers curling into the fabric of my hoodie.

“I love you,” I murmured into her hair.

“You know that, right? No matter what name I go by, no matter what I turn into… I love you. Always have. Always will.”

She buried her face in my shoulder, a small, muffled sob escaping before she could stop it.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, voice thick and wobbly against my neck.

“You idiot. You big, furry, secret-keeping idiot. I love you too.”

We stayed like that for a long minute—two best friends clinging to each other in the wreckage of a truth neither of us had seen coming.

Then she pulled back just enough to meet my eyes.

Her nose was red, cheeks streaked with tears and mascara, but that stubborn, familiar spark was flickering back to life behind the wet lashes—

She sniffed once, wiped her face with the sleeve of my hoodie (rude, but I didn’t care), and gave a shaky little laugh.

“Okay,” she said, voice still thick but steadier.

“Okay. This could actually be an advantage. You being… half witch?!”

Her brows shot up, the gears in her head visibly turning from panic to opportunism in record time.

“Think about it,” she went on.

“You could hex people who cut in line at the coffee shop—bam, instant karma, they spill their latte all over themselves. You could levitate the last slice of pizza out of someone else’s hand and straight into mine. You could probably turn bad grades into frogs or at least make the professor forget to check our attendance. This is power, Amara. We’re weaponizing your glow-up. We’re about to be untouchable.”

“I don’t actually know what I can do yet,” I admitted, still smiling.

“The witch part is… new. Really new. I haven’t tried levitating anything, and I’m pretty sure hexing coffee-line cutters would get me in trouble with the coven police or whatever they have. But yeah… maybe. Eventually. If I can figure out how any of it works.”

She nodded seriously, like we were now co-conspirators in a very important crime spree.

“Wait—hold on. Do you have a wand? Like, do you wave it around and say ‘abracadabra’ or is it more dramatic, like ‘by the power of the moon I command thee, rise, my latte, rise!’? Do you have a cauldron? A black cat? A pointy hat?"

I laughed harder, shaking my head.

“No wand,” I promised.

“No cauldron. No black cat—yet. No pointy hat.

The witch stuff is still… theoretical. I feel it sometimes—like a hum under my skin, especially when the moon’s bright—but I haven’t exactly tested it. I’m scared I’ll accidentally set something on fire or turn my coffee into a toad or… I don’t know. Explode a textbook.”

“Ita okay. It doesn't matter.” she added.

“You’re still you. Wand or no wand. You’re still my idiot who can’t parallel park and eats the last gummy worm without asking. That hasn’t changed.”

I squeezed back, throat tight again.

“Yeah,” I whispered.

“Still your idiot.”

.

I reached over and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the way I used to when we were younger and she’d cry over some boy or some test or some fight with her mom.

“Hey,” I said softly, voice low enough that it felt like it belonged only to us.

“Now that you’ve calmed down a little… do you want to see Matt?”

Her eyes flicked up to mine—still red-rimmed, still wary—but the wild panic had dulled to something smaller, more manageable.

“He’s right outside the door,” I continued, nodding toward it without looking away from her.

“He’s probably pacing out there this whole time, freaking out. He’s convinced you’re never going to look at him the same way again. That you’ll see the wolf and nothing else. That he’s lost you for good.” I swallowed, throat tight.

“He really does care about you, Cass. More than anything. He’s terrified. But he’d never push you. If you need more time, he’ll wait. He’ll wait forever if that’s what you need.”

Cassie’s gaze drifted toward the door. She chewed her bottom lip—old nervous habit—then looked back at me.

“He’s… out there?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said, offering a tiny, encouraging smile.

She exhaled slowly, shaky but deliberate.

“I’m not ready-to see him” she admitted

“But he’s your mate, Cass,” I said suddenly.

“Mate…?” she echoed, confusion wrinkling her nose.

“Yeah. Mate. It’s not just some casual word we throw around like ‘boyfriend’ or ‘crush.’ In our world—in his world—it’s… everything.” I paused, searching for the right way to explain something that felt both ancient and brand-new.

“A mate is the one person fate picks for you. The one who fits so perfectly it’s almost painful. The one who makes the noise in your head go quiet, who makes the world make sense. It’s deeper than love—it’s instinct. It’s soul-deep. The bond ties you together in ways humans can’t even imagine.”

Her breath hitched again, but she didn’t pull away. She just watched me, eyes wide and searching.

“He feels you,” I continued.

“All the time. Even when you’re miles apart. He’d sense if you were hurt. If you were scared. If you were happy. He’d know. The same way you’d suddenly feel it if something was wrong with him. He’d tear the world apart to keep you safe. And he’d never—never—hurt you. Not on purpose. Not even a little. The wolf in him? It would rather die than raise a claw against you. That’s what being mates means. It’s protective. Fierce. Unbreakable. Forever.”

I let the last word hang there, soft but heavy.

“Right now,” I added quietly, voice dropping to a near-whisper,

“he’s out there thinking he’s lost you. That one glimpse of his wolf—the one second you saw the fur, the fangs, the truth—was enough to shatter the only thing that’s ever mattered more to him than breathing. To him, you’re not just someone he loves. You’re the reason the moon feels like home instead of just another cold, endless night. He thinks that single second of fear in your eyes broke the bond before it even had a chance to fully form.

He’s tearing himself apart thinking he’s turned into the monster you’re scared of… when all he’s ever wanted was to be the one thing you could always run to, not away from.”

I paused, letting the words of it settle between us.

"He’s terrified, Cass. More terrified than he’s ever been in his life. And all he wants—all he needs—is to see you. To know you’re still breathing. Still here. Even if you’re angry. Even if you’re scared. He just needs to know you haven’t walked away for good.”

Cassie’s eyes shimmered again—fresh tears gathering—but they weren’t the panicked kind anymore. They were slower. Deeper.

“He’d really never hurt me?” she whispered, voice barely audible, like she needed to hear it one more time before she could believe it.

“Never,” I said firmly.

“He’d cut off his own hands first. The mate bond—it’s wired into him. Into the wolf. You’re his center. His reason. His safe place. And right now, he’s terrified he’s turned into the thing that scares you most. But he’s not. He’s just… terrified of losing you.”

She swallowed hard, fingers tightening around mine.

Waiting for her reply.