Chapter 2: The Curse of the Carsons

Everyone in the Carson family carries the werewolf gene. After they turn twenty, every full moon triggers a heat that makes them desperate to mark their partner. Whoever they choose first—that’s the only one for life. It’s less a fairytale and more a curse, written in their blood.

I always thought Derek Carson—my childhood best friend—would choose me. When he first awakened, his friends called me over. I remember racing down those creaky wooden steps, sneakers thumping against linoleum, half expecting a horror-movie scene. But outside Derek’s private room, I heard him complain:

"I’m not just gonna let Aubrey have it easy!"

His voice was loud, almost childish, and it hurt more than I wanted to admit.

"I want to go after the prom queen, but she’s not the type you just win over!"

"Unlike Aubrey—she’s always at my beck and call."

My chest tightened. I pressed my back against the wall, hands shaking as I listened. I bit the inside of my cheek, tasting blood, fighting the urge to bolt or break down.

"Even if she shows up begging, I’ve got to keep my distance. I can’t let her think I’m that easy."

"I don’t want to ruin my whole life for one night and get stuck with her forever."

I stood outside the door, my mind blank. The string lights in the hallway blurred, my heartbeat pounding in my ears like the bass at homecoming.

I never thought Derek, the boy I grew up with, would see me this way.

His friends, a bunch of yes-men, laughed:

"So she’s just there when you need her, huh?"

"Want me to text her and tell her to stay away? Wouldn’t want her crawling into your bed just to get ahead. You know, the easy ones are never worth it."

Their words hit like salt in a wound. Derek stopped his friend, looking miserable:

"Forget it. If I tell her not to come now, what’ll she think?"

"Even if she’s just there when I need her, she’s someone I’ve spoiled since we were kids. I can’t stand to hurt her."

"When she comes, I’ll see if I can stop myself from touching her."

"Some things are better left unsaid. Let her see for herself this time."

I wanted to barge in and shout:

"You say you can’t hurt me, but you let your friends mock me—call me a puppy, a toy. Is that what I am to you? Do you deserve my loyalty?"

But I held back. Why waste words on someone who doesn’t value you?

I turned and left, cheeks burning, swallowing tears. The porch light buzzed with moths. My sneakers crunched over frost-bitten grass as I cut across the lawn, the air sharp and cold enough to sting my nose.

After a minute, I dialed his brother’s bodyguard:

"That thing you mentioned—about helping Derek’s brother—do you still need me?"

"Send me the address. I’ll go right now."