Chapter 2

"Hatching?" I laughed, a sharp, barking sound. "I’m not a chicken. I’m an ER nurse. I believe in biology, not... whatever this is."

"Biology is just magic that has been explained," Ren countered. He gestured toward the back of the shop. "Come. If you stay out here, you will scare the tourists when your jaw dislocates."

I wanted to run. Every instinct in my body screamed *Flight*. But the pain was blinding now, a fire burning in the marrow of my femurs. I followed him.

The back room was different. No plastic cats here. The walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling drawers made of dark wood, each labeled in calligraphy. In the center sat a low tea table made of a single slab of polished burl.

"Sit," Ren commanded.

I collapsed onto a cushion. My hands were shaking so hard I had to clamp them between my knees. "Please. Just give me something to make it stop. A sedative. Anything."

"To stop the tide is to drown," Ren said. He was moving with fluid, practiced grace, rinsing a clay teapot with boiling water. "You are fighting the *Qi*. That is why it hurts. You treat the wolf like a tumor. You try to cut it out."

"It *is* a tumor," I cried, tears hot and stinging on my face. "It’s ruining my life. I can't work. I can't date. I wake up in Golden Gate Park covered in mud!"

"You are *Tian Gou*," Ren said softly. He placed a small cup in front of me. The liquid inside was dark, smelling of wet earth and iron. "The Celestial Dog. In the old stories, your kind chases the moon. You are not a monster, Lin. You are a guardian."

"I don't want to be a guardian," I whispered. "I want to be normal."

Ren sat across from me. His gaze was heavy, anchoring me to the room. "There is no normal for you anymore. There is only the choice. Drink this, and the pain will end."

"Is it wolfsbane?" I asked, lifting the cup. My hands were claws now, clumsy and dangerous.

"No," Ren said. "It is a bridge. It will not stop the shift. It will complete it."

I froze. "You want me to turn? Here?"

"Better here than in the alley," Ren said. "Trust the tea. Trust the blood."

I looked at him. For a moment, the shadows in the room seemed to stretch toward him, curling around his shoulders like smoke. There was a power radiating off him, a silent hum that my wolf recognized even if my human brain didn't.

*Pack,* the voice in my head whispered. *Safe.*

I drank the tea.

It was bitter, tasting of roots and deep sorrow. It hit my stomach like a stone, and then exploded into heat.

I gasped, the cup falling from my hand and shattering on the floor.

"Breathe," Ren’s voice was steady, cutting through the panic.

I fell backward onto the tatami mats. The fire wasn't burning me anymore; it was melting me. My bones felt liquid. The rigid structure of my human anatomy—the nurse who knew every bone and artery—dissolved.

I screamed, but it wasn't a scream of pain. It was a release. It was the sound of a dam breaking.

Ren was there. He didn't flinch. He knelt beside me, rolling up his white sleeves. On his forearms, I saw scars—not from accidents, but patterns. Silver lines that looked like calligraphy burned into the skin.

He placed a hand on my forehead. His skin was cool, dry, and impossibly heavy.

"Let go, Lin," he whispered. "Do not steer the river. Be the water."

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