Chapter 30 Nick
NICK
The wolf mug stared back at me from my desk, its chipped grin mocking me.
The guys thought it was funny, their little “welcome back” gift.
Every time one of them walked past, I caught the smirk, the snicker under their breath, the muttered ‘good boy.’ They laughed, but I could smell their fear beneath their cologne and sweat.
That sour tang used to come from suspects, not my so-called friends and co-workers.
I used to be one of them—late-night takeout, card games between shifts, brothers-in-arms. Now, the air between us weighed heavy, full of sharp tension and foreign looks.
When did their jokes start to become annoying? When did the bullpen start smelling like something I wanted to escape?
The captain’s gaze snagged mine from across the room, suspicion coiled behind his eyes just as it had the night I’d brought in the kid. His mouth had tightened then, too. Did she do this? You get her? Can we finally kick out that bitch?
His face fell with disappointment as I explained how she’d rescued the boy.
The words had fallen from my lips without thinking.
I remembered praising her for her fast action and leadership.
I left out anything to do with the doctor or his experiments, making it sound like the boy was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I couldn’t make her his monster—not how he wanted me to.
After I was done, he yelled at me, ordering me off the case. Instead, I was to sit at my desk for beat cop work. According to him, I was a disappointment, but for some reason, that hurt less than I thought it would.
When I asked what he wanted me to do with the kid, he’d replied, “Do whatever you want with the supe’s brat.” With the way I felt when I heard those words, I’d expected a growl to come from my chest, but the wolf inside was silent.
Once he’d walked away, I grabbed the kid and got him a soda, a bag of chips, and some candy before taking him to one of the interview rooms for some privacy. His hands shook as I passed him the food, his eyes looking around like he knew he was in a place he shouldn’t be.
“How did you know I was a cop?”
Shaking his head, the boy fingered the soda can before he whispered, “The other human kids. I overheard them talking at the gas station about an Officer Cordova being turned into a werewolf.” He gulped hard, stuttering when he continued. “T-that the f-force l-lost a g-good one.”
Stupid brats must’ve been some of the other officers' kids since the captain had been trying to keep my name out of the press. Only people at the precinct knew the details about my change, but it was bound to get out sooner or later.
After a smile to set him at ease and a few more minutes, I learned more about him. The boy’s mother had just passed, and his dad was trying to find a way to support him. Dad had taken the job because it paid well. He thought his dad was a good guy, and he wanted to stay with him.
A deep rumble worked its way up my chest—the first sound the wolf had made since that night in the cave… since Nova turned away, eyes full of that quiet, final kind of hate.
I’d thought I wanted him gone. The beast. The instinct. But his silence had hollowed me out in ways I hadn’t expected. Standing there in that fluorescent-lit office, I realized how lonely I felt once the thing inside me stopped talking to me.
It wasn't long before some lady came by looking for the boy. She was human, but she said that the Syndicate sent her to collect him and take him to a local safe house until his father was found. Since the captain didn't give a shit, it felt like the best option.
The next morning, my uniform fit wrong. Too tight at the throat, fabric scratching my skin like it was punishing me. I told myself it was just in my head. Undercover work messed people up, and I just needed to readjust. Breathe.
Except breathing felt impossible.
And I missed that damn fucking silk suit. The feel of it. The freedom. The space to move, to be.
A stack of paperwork was waiting on my desk, and I almost laughed at the sight.
Paperwork. For a werewolf. My knuckles cracked against the edge of the desk so hard the mug rattled.
I could chase down a perp in the dark with just a scent, run faster than any man in the precinct, and lift up a car with my bare hands, but I was stuck here with a stack of forms.
Maybe it was punishment. Maybe he just wanted to see if I’d break. If I’d wolf out on him so he could fire me.
I had to prove him wrong, so I filled out the fucking forms. One after another.
Keeping my head down, I drilled my way through the paperwork, but it didn't take long before I became the joke around the precinct. Dog puns thrown around left and right. Whistles to get my attention. Barking noises when I walked by. I refused to let them bother me, but when I didn’t react, they just got bolder.
One morning, there were dog treats scattered across my desk. I looked up, saw the captain watching from his doorway, coffee in hand. When our eyes met, he just took another sip and turned away, his message clear. This was acceptable. He wasn’t going to stop it.
The air in my throat burned, and that wolf inside of me bristled.
Even as a beast, a monster, I helped save those turned supes in the cave. I was there to help the human boy in a dangerous situation. Was on the hunt for a bad man doing bad things.
I’ve done more good as a criminal than I accomplished as a cop. That thought scared me more than the beast, the wolf, inside me.
Sleep didn’t come easy that night. The sheets tangled around my legs, the pillow damp beneath my cheek. I could swear that I smelled her scent, soft, floral, maddening. It clung to my skin like a memory, drowning me with every breath.
I turned over again and pulled the pillow to my chest, pretending for half a second it was her, that her breath brushed against my throat, claws tracing fire down my back. My beast stirred, feeling restless, needy. He remembered, too.
But the bed stayed cold the rest of the night, and so did I.
When dawn bled through the blinds, I felt hollow, like something had been siphoned out of me. Even the light felt heavy on my skin.
I got up and tugged on that scratchy uniform, catching myself making a face in the mirror as I buttoned it up.
I hated the way it felt on my body even more than yesterday.
Every seam felt wrong, the fabric too rough, too human.
I caught myself staring at my hands, the same ones that had been slick with blood in the dark, damp cave.
The vampire’s snarl echoed in the hollow of my skull. I told the beast, Rip him apart, and he had obeyed. Our claws had torn through flesh like wet paper, ribs cracking beneath my palms, hot blood painting across my face. His heart pulsed in my mouth before my teeth chomped down, then it burst.
I didn’t hesitate, didn’t flinch at the act of hurting him, of tearing him apart with my own hands. When I transformed back into a man, looking at the damage I’d done, I hadn’t felt disgust or regret. There’d been nothing but the high, savage and electric, coursing through me.
Even now, the ghost of that thrill spiked in my veins.
What if the true monster wasn't the beast underneath my skin but was really me at my core? What if it had always been there?
That thought haunted me through the day.
Somewhere between the reports and the whispered jokes, something shifted. I stopped calling him the beast. I called him my wolf.
He was mine. I was his. There was no going back. No tearing us apart. We were stuck together, forever.
The next morning, the uniform hung on the hanger like a lie. I tried to reach for it, but my arms wouldn’t move. The stiff, starched collar, the badge, the neat lines, all of it felt foreign like a costume I’d outgrown.
The man who used to wear it followed rules, keeping his emotions buried under the weight of discipline and duty. He worked beside people who laughed in his face and called it camaraderie.
But she—she saw me. All of me.
Until she didn’t want to anymore. Until I ruined it.
Her eyes, that night, drained of every trace of warmth. The way her breath caught before she turned away. My wolf had howled until my throat burned, begging me to chase after her, but I didn't move. I just let her walk away.
Standing in that cave, I’d told myself that I was just doing my job, but now I could admit the lie tasted bitter every time I thought about it.
If she’d wanted to kill me, she could’ve—even should’ve—but she didn’t. That mercy cut deeper than any blade.
Being surrounded by the useless chatter and clicking of keyboards, I’d never felt more alone.
Each morning felt the same. The slow ache of a wolf mourning inside my ribs, his grief beating in time with mine. The wounds never closed. They just kept bleeding quietly, a penance that seeped into everything.
The dark fabric of my untouched uniform caught in the window’s light. Hand stretched out, brushing the sleeve carefully, half-expecting it to bite, I made my decision.
It wasn’t born of guilt, nor was it because of the wolf whispering from the depths of my soul. This choice was mine, made by me.
Looking around my apartment, it slammed into me that I felt nothing. Nothing was holding me back, and nothing was calling me to stay. That was when I knew this life was no longer for me.
I didn’t want my future to be built on pretending, on constantly being at war with myself, with my wolf. That was why I couldn’t wear the badge anymore.
Initially, I joined to help people, to stand between good and evil, but years on the job had shown me it wasn’t so cut and dry. The lines blurred until I couldn’t tell which side I stood on anymore.
Whether they were a monster or a human, good people could do evil things and bad people could do good ones.