Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

My alarm doesn’t wake me so much as it startles me.

The buzzing drags me out of a shallow dream, and when I squint at the clock, I swear under my breath. Ten minutes late. Not catastrophic, but enough to throw everything off.

I roll out of bed, hair sticking to my cheek, and shuffle toward the kitchen. The kettle whistles before I’ve even registered putting it on. I pour too quickly, spilling tea over the counter, cursing again as the liquid burns my fingers. I grab a rag, blotting it up, but my eyes catch on the pile of unpaid bills tucked beneath the fridge magnet.

Electric. Rent. The shelter donation I’ve been putting off.

My stomach twists, but I shove the letters deeper beneath the magnet, out of sight. Out of mind. Nobody sees me lose my patience. Not with myself. Not with anything.

A few minutes later, I’m out the door, thermos in hand.

---

The shelter is already buzzing when I arrive.

Sally—“Sal” to everyone—leans against the front desk, scrolling on her phone. She’s in her mid-thirties, dark hair piled into a messy bun, her lipstick smudged like she put it on in the car. She glances up at me and grins.

“Anne, you look like you fought with your alarm clock and lost.”

“Something like that,” I mutter, setting down my bag.

Sal laughs. “At least you’re consistent. You take kennels today?”

I nod. That’s our routine. She likes walking the dogs; I like the order of feeding, cleaning, repeating. It gives me something to do with my hands.

We’ve worked together a year and a half, long enough for surface-level familiarity. She tells me about her love life—wrong guy after wrong guy, now on what she calls a “man-timeout.” I listen, nod in the right places, laugh when I’m supposed to. But that’s where it stops. Sal doesn’t know me past the polite mask. Nobody does.

By nine, she’s off with a leash in each hand while I scrub kennels. By noon, I’ve fed every bowl, folded every blanket. The cats glare at us as we clean their cages, offended by the intrusion.

The hours slide by. By five, the place is quiet, lights flicking off behind us as we lock the doors.

---

Groceries.

The fluorescent lights sting my eyes as I push a cart down the aisle, my list clutched tight. Cheapest bread. Store-brand milk. Rice, beans. Chocolate bar—no. I sigh and put it back. Luxury is a word that doesn’t belong in my cart.

“Anne?”

I look up. Caroline waves from two aisles down, sheriff Forbes beside her. I know Liz a little—months ago, she brought a cat into the shelter after hitting it with her car. Beans. Sweet thing. Lost a leg, but thriving now.

We exchange a few polite words, smiles stretched thin. Then they’re gone, and I’m alone again with the shelves.

At checkout, I keep my eyes on the total, biting down disappointment. When I load the bags into my car, I catch my reflection in the window. Blonde hair tied back, blue eyes too big in a tired face, body swallowed by an oversized sweatshirt.

Not enough. Still not enough.

I drive home, don’t unpack the groceries. My stomach growls, but I ignore it, changing into running clothes instead.

---

The trail cuts into the woods just past the edge of town. Ten kilometers. I’ve run it enough times that I know every bend, every hill. The air is cooler under the trees, the evening light fading fast.

My thoughts wander as I run. Always back to the same places I don’t want them to go.

The Netherlands. The salon. The client who didn’t listen when I said no.

I push harder, lungs burning, legs aching. I don’t think about it. I don’t.

By the time I slow, darkness has crept in. Too late. I curse under my breath and turn back toward town.

That’s when I hear it.

A low growl, deep and resonant, cutting through the quiet.

I freeze.

Branches shift, and he steps out.

A wolf.

But not like any wolf I’ve ever seen. Larger, broader. His eyes catch the fading light—unnatural, luminous. He watches me with the stillness of a predator, shoulders low, body tense.

My heart pounds.

Of course. Of course this happens to me. The girl who spends her days saving animals is about to be mauled by one. Perfect.

But the joke dies in my throat as our eyes meet.

Something snaps.

The world tilts, sharp and dizzying. Like the ground itself shifted under me, like something unseen just locked into place. The air hums, the night bends, and my breath catches in a way that has nothing to do with fear.

I stumble back. The wolf takes a step forward, growl vibrating through his chest.

“Nope,” I whisper, and then I turn and run.

Branches whip against my arms, my lungs burn, but I don’t look back. Not once.

By the time I reach my apartment door, sweat streaking down my back, adrenaline buzzing under my skin, I slam it shut and press my forehead against the cool wood.

“What the hell was that?” I whisper to no one.

The shower doesn’t wash the feeling away. Not the eyes. Not the shift.

That night, when I finally collapse into bed, sleep drags me under fast. And I dream—of eyes that glow in the dark, watching me.

Chapter Text

The blood on my hands had long since dried, but the hunger didn’t fade.
For the first time in a thousand years, the wolf inside me was free. I could feel it in my bones, in every jagged breath. The air itself seemed sharper, alive with promise. Each scream in the night was a hymn to my freedom, each body left in my wake proof that I was no longer bound.
But even in the midst of blood and frenzy, something new stirred.
A pull.
At first I thought it instinct, the wolf hunting. But it wasn’t hunger. It was a tether. Invisible. Relentless. Tugging me away from carnage, deeper into the trees.
I followed.
And there she was.
A girl, running the trail with the clumsy persistence of mortals who think themselves safe in the dark. Her hair—blonde, a pale halo in the dim light—was pulled back from her face. Her frame was not fragile, but softened by the life she led, built on work rather than vanity. She paused, bent slightly at the waist, catching her breath.
When she lifted her head, her eyes met mine.
Blue, wide, startled. And in that instant, the world shifted. Something ancient snapped taut between us, so sudden it stole the breath from my lungs. It was like every vein in my body had been rewired, all of me pulled violently toward her.
Her lips parted on a sharp inhale.
And then she ran.
My wolf surged, claws in my veins, begging me to give chase. To pin her, to take what the bond demanded.
But I stood rooted to the earth, trembling with the effort. I let her go.
Even as the night swallowed her, the tether hummed through me, electric, unyielding.
What in God’s name was she?
I did not find the answer in blood. For once.
Instead, I summoned witches. Two who owed me loyalty: Pedro and Astrid. I called them to an abandoned chapel, where the stones reeked of old prayers and mold.
“You asked for us, Niklaus,” Astrid said, her voice low.
“I felt something tonight,” I told them. “A shift. A tether. If someone plots against me, I will know of it.”
They shared a look, then went to work. Pedro scattered bone and herbs into the dirt, his chants rising like smoke. Astrid carved symbols into the stone with trembling fingers. Power thickened the air, and when it broke, both of them froze.
“Well?” I pressed.
Astrid’s gaze flicked to mine. “It is no spell. No curse. You’ve been bound.”
Pedro’s voice was hoarse. “A soulbond.”
The word hit harder than Mikaels fists ever had.
I laughed, but it came out thin. “A child’s tale.”
“No,” Astrid whispered. “Rare beyond belief. Some go lifetimes never finding one. It is the other half of you—your soul mirrored, tethered, completed.”
Pedro nodded quickly. “It will make you stronger. It can also be used against you. If others knew…”
Their fear betrayed them. Not of me—of what they had just seen.
I felt my wolf stir, restless, protective.
“You’ve told me enough,” I said.
Astrid opened her mouth to beg, but my hand snapped her neck before the word could form. Pedro stumbled back, gasping, tried to flee. I caught him easily, tearing his throat open with a single brutal motion.
Silence fell, broken only by the drip of blood on stone.
Now no one else would know.
And yet the tether still hummed.
It led me back into the night, back to the town, until I stood in the shadows beneath a window.
Her window.
I watched her move inside, hair damp from a shower, her sweatshirt hanging loose on her frame. She poured tea into a chipped mug, folded clothes into neat stacks. So ordinary. So unaware.
My wolf prowled, restless. My eyes did not leave her.
The bond was real. Mine.
And though she had run, though she had no idea—she would not escape me.
The world had changed.
And there was no going back.