Chapter 91

Matt

Matt stood beneath the swaying branches of one of the trees on campus, hidden in the shadows like a creeper. Which, technically, he kind of was. His eyes were fixed on Celeste, something he had found himself doing more and more lately.

She moved gracefully, her laughter echoing through the clearing, but Matt's heart was heavy with a gnawing unease. She was with Alyx again. Matt couldn't help but resent the easy camaraderie they shared.

They were becoming inseparable, and it ate at Matt's soul like a slow-burning fire. He was supposed to be by her side, not Alyx. Matt wasn’t sure why Jack even allowed them to be so close. He was too scared to ask. If he seemed too interested in Celeste, Jack would become suspicious.

But each passing day was a searing reminder of how fucked up everything had become since the ball. And each passing day, Matt watched them share secrets, their laughter grating on his ears. He felt as if Celeste was drifting away on a current, leaving Matt stranded on the shore, alone.

It had been three long months since they had last spoken, since Jack had ruined everything. The silence hung heavy between them, a weight Matt carried with every step he took away from Celeste.

He missed the warmth of her voice, the sparkle in her eyes when she looked at him, but most of all, he missed the sense of belonging that only she could provide. He missed ‘Rose’, too. And the fact that they were the same person and right in front of him, just out of reach, frustrated him to no end.

Even from his secluded vantage point, Matt could sense the subtle shifts in Celeste. Her scent, once intimately familiar, now bore traces of something different. Her feelings for Alyx were slowly changing.

He could see it in the way Celeste's body language changed, the way she leaned into him whenever Alyx spoke. Matt felt like a silent observer, a helpless witness to the transformation unfolding before him.

Matt wanted to reach out, to pull her back into his world, but the chasm between them seemed insurmountable. That chasm being Jack, of course. Well, Jack and the fact that Celeste probably thought Matt hated her.

The ache in Matt's heart festered, a constant companion in the lonely hours. He found himself replaying their last encounter, the words left unsaid, the distance that had grown too wide to bridge. He wondered if Celeste could feel the chasm as keenly as he did.

As the days turned into weeks, Matt's longing for Celeste became an unrelenting ache. He tried to fill the void with distractions, to immerse himself in the rhythm of everyday life, hunting the rogue werewolf that still hadn’t been found.

Nothing worked. He was haunted by the specter of her laughter, her smile, and the way she used to fit so perfectly into the contours of his life. He missed her more than he had ever expected. And it was at times like these that he thought about breaking his promise to Jack.

Matt growled as Celeste put her hand on Alyx’s arm. Even from here he could tell it wasn’t an innocent touch. He could tell that Celeste was flirting. He could also tell that Alyx was completely into it.

He stiffened as Alyx turned his head slightly, looking directly at Matt. A smirk formed on Alyx’s face. He deliberately pushed Celeste’s hair behind her ear, even though it hadn’t needed it. Celeste leaned into his touch. Matt felt his teeth elongating, shifting into fangs.

He knew Alyx was trying to goad him and it was working. Matt just didn’t know why. And his current emotional state could lead to an impromptu shift. They were volatile enough that Matt wasn’t sure he would be in control.

He took a deep breath, urging himself to calm down. This wasn’t like him. He wasn’t like Jack. He thought with his head, not his heart. But as Alyx leaned down and whispered something in Celeste’s ear, never taking his eyes off of him, Matt couldn’t stay there anymore.

He had to leave, had to disappear into the mountains to shift. Matt’s whole body was beginning to shake with the effort of holding his wolf back. He had barely made it into the tree line before it came bursting out of him.

Matt tipped his head back and let out a mournful howl. He howled even when his throat was starting to hurt. He howled until nothing else would come out. And once his howling was done, all that was left was anger. So he decided to run.

The forest echoed with the sounds of Matt's heavy pants, punctuated by the rhythmic pounding of his feet against the earth. His chest heaved with each furious step, the anger coursing through him like a wildfire. The vibrant green canopy above seemed to blur into a sea of resentment and frustration.

Twigs snapped beneath his boots, the forest floor giving way to his turmoil. Each stride was an attempt to outrun the ache, to escape the suffocating reality that he couldn't be with her. Fate had cruelly woven their lives in different threads, and every stolen glance, every shared secret, only etched the pain deeper.

As he sprinted through the twisted underbrush, Matt's mind raced, grappling with the futility of it all. He couldn't fathom a world without Celeste, yet that was exactly what the universe seemed intent on handing him.

The forest seemed to close in around him, the trees standing like silent sentinels, bearing witness to his struggle. He imagined them whispering secrets to the wind, secrets about a love lost in the tangled web of circumstance.

His breaths turned ragged, matching the uneven tempo of his heart. Every muscle in his body screamed for release, for an outlet for the tempest of emotions swirling within him. He needed this run, this furious sprint through the heart of the forest, to feel something other than the ache in his chest.

As the path twisted and turned, Matt found himself at a familiar clearing, where sunlight dappled the ground in golden patches. He shifted again and collapsed to his knees. He let out a guttural cry, the sound echoing through the woods like a mournful symphony.

Leaves rustled in quiet empathy, and the wind carried his sorrow through the trees. Time seemed to stretch on, the boundary between man and nature blurring, as if the forest itself sought to console him.

Eventually, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows through the trees, Matt rose from the forest floor. He knew he couldn't outrun his heartache, but in the solitude of the woods, he found a sliver of peace.

Matt hated this. He hated feeling like this. Like he was completely out of control. Like his heart was breaking into a million pieces. Every day that he had to act like everything was all right sliced away another piece of his soul.

He had to admit that the wildness of the run had taken some of the edge off and he made a mental note to go on more runs, but it had been foolish of him to go alone. He could have been attacked at any point during his rage and despair. He would have to ask Nina or Enzo to go with him next time.

They didn’t really know what was going on inside of him, but that was okay. He would just tell them he was frustrated with the lack of advancements on the rogue werewolf case. They would understand that much and wouldn’t ask questions.

Matt made his way back and picked up his tattered clothes. At least he hadn’t been wearing anything too special. It had been so long since he’d ruined clothes like this. He had almost forgotten about it.

Feeling slightly more calm than he had in months, Matt headed home. He wasn’t sure what he would do when he got there. But plotting Alyx’s death seemed like a good idea. Not that Matt would actually go through with it. At least he thought he wouldn’t.