Iceshard1011

Roman laughed so hard he hiccuped as he tried to breathe, and across from him, Janus’ face was flushed bright red.

The living room was lit with the warm orange rays of the sunset streaming in through the enormous windows. The wine rack was down three bottles, and the coffee table had small bowls of crackers and nuts that no one had been touching except Remus. It had almost been a month at the cabin, and a quarter of a year ago, Roman would have never imagined that he would be drunk-dancing in a house hidden in a famous mountain range.

Janus smelt like ginger and vanilla, two things that Roman had never thought would go together but had never loved more, accepting of the fact that his mind was fuzzy with alcohol.

Virgil had cracked the drinks open with a poor excuse of wanting to kick his anxiety in the ass for the night, and no one had protested. They’d shit-talked on the couches for a few hours until Janus had pulled Virgil from the couch to dance with him with a mocking bow. Roman and Remus had laughed from where they sat on opposite ends of the couch, but Remus had been finding more comfort in his glass.

Remus had withdrawn from the others since he’d hung up on Logan. Roman wondered if Remus was just sulking, or if he was trying to distance himself so no one else he cared about could hurt him if they tried.

Roman had spent multiple nights staring out his window and feeling oddly alone in a bedroom to himself. He’d considered countless times creeping into Remus’ room, even just to talk about something – or anything – but the thought of getting rejected made him want to curl up under the bed sheets and never come out.

But Virgil dragging Roman up and spinning him around had begun to heal over all the nights of stress and aching that Roman had been wallowing in. 

It’d been the first time in weeks that Roman had felt truly relaxed. He had lost track of what song was playing from the speaker at this point. He was just barely slurring the words against Janus’ lips. It was something slow. Was that Beyonce?

Janus’ hand slipped onto his waist, and Roman didn’t care what the song was.

Virgil had joined Remus on the couch, but he watched them with a placid, warm smile.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this relaxed, love,” Janus murmured, and Roman ducked his head.

“It’s the alcohol,” he muttered petulantly.

“Oh, of course,” Janus agreed in a tone that spelt out multiple levels of disbelief.

“I feel like I’m forth-wheeling so hard right now,” Remus muttered from the couch.

“Jealous?” Roman sniped, flipping him the bird.

Remus huffed and looked away. Janus stroked his hand down Roman’s shoulder, and he relaxed, turning his attention away from his brother.

The song ended, and they stepped apart. Virgil stood from the couch with a stretch.

“I’m getting more drinks,” he said. He brushed past the two of them, hand lingering on Roman’s back, and moved into the kitchen.

Remus stood up and abruptly walked outside, sliding the door roughly behind him.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Roman muttered to himself.

“You’re drunk, darling,” Janus said, his eyebrows pinched with sympathy. “It’s not your fault.”

“I could still keep my big mouth shut,” grumbled Roman. Janus sighed and didn’t argue, stepping aside to let Roman follow after his brother.

Remus was sitting on the balcony futons, the light of the firepit sending shadows over his face. The sky was dark now, stars sparkling above their heads. He was staring at something in his hands, and from where Roman was standing, he could see it was a picture taken from their formal graduation party. Remus had kept the printed photo of him and Logan in his wallet since the night. He must have slipped it into his pocket before Janus had burned their belongings.

“Thinking about Logan?” Roman asked quietly from the doorway.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Remus snapped. He clenched the photo between his fist and chucked it into the fire.

“No!” Roman cried, darting forward. He fished it out with the metal poker and threw it onto one of the stone slabs, stomping out the flames licking around the edges of the paper.

“What’s your problem?” Remus said, bewildered.

“That’s one of your best photos,” Roman snapped at him, patting away at the burnt corners.

“And?”

“And it’s the only copy we have!” he cried. He swallowed, sitting back with a sigh. “Who knows what’s happening to home now.”

Remus looked away. “What’s the point of holding on to memories you can’t have?”

“Because that’s the point of memories, Rem.” Roman frowned. “You still have those, werewolf or not.”

Remus clenched his fists. He avoided looking at the photo. “Evidently not.”

Roman crossed his arms over his chest as he stood up. “I’m sorry.”

Remus didn’t answer for a moment, scowling. “It’s not your fault.”

Roman sat down on the opposite side of the futon. “Maybe I should have tried to take him with me, or convinced him or….”

“Shut up,” Remus grumbled. Roman did as he was told. He stared at the firepit, wondering why the warmth of the flames weren’t reaching his frigid arms. The wind swept through the trees below, crossing the mountain range and making the fire flicker. Roman shivered. He watched from the corner of his eye as Remus glanced over at him and rolled his eyes.

Roman was so shocked by his brother reaching across the futon and slinging his arm over his shoulder to drag him closer to the fire that he didn’t even think to protest.

Unbidden, Roman shuddered under the touch and melted against his brother’s shoulder. He felt the weight of Remus’ frown burning the top of his head.

“When was the last time someone hugged you?” he demanded.

Roman forced his breath back into his lungs.

“It’s been a while,” he admitted quietly.

Remus scowled out at the night sky and squeezed Roman closer. Hoping his affection wouldn’t be shoved off, Roman tentatively rested his temple against Remus’ collarbone. He glanced up at waxing gibbous above their heads.

“It’s a full moon soon,” he said softly. Remus huffed mirthlessly.

“I didn’t think we’d make it this far,” he said, matter-of-fact.

“Christmas miracle,” Roman said. Remus hummed a bitter laugh. Roman clutched his arms. “I’m sorry I got you into this mess.”

“I’m the one who got bitten,” Remus scoffed.

Roman sat up to give him an incredulous look. “That’s…” He shook his head. “I was the one who ran away from the cops. It was just a welfare check. We could’ve gotten away with it.”

“I'm sorry I didn’t believe you about Logan.” Remus kicked Roman in the shin with his boot. “We both fucked up.”

Remus pressed harder against him, and Roman relaxed. They stared out at the mountainous scenery in the first companionable silence they’d had in weeks. Roman smiled at the sight of a colony of bats that flew overhead.

He thought he imagined it at first until he saw more light flickering between the stars, brief flashes of green with hints of violet and yellow.

“Did you see that?” he said, sitting forward.

Remus sounded just as awed as Roman felt, even as he stayed where he was, like he wasn’t shocked. “The southern lights.”

“Holy shit,” Roman breathed as he caught another glimpse of glinting green. “I didn’t think we’d see them at this time of the year.”

“Or this far north,” agreed Remus.

“Let’s hope it’s a good omen,” Roman mused.

“With us?” Remus said sceptically.

“Hey, give us some credit,” said Roman with a smile. “We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

Remus screwed up his face in disgust. “Your optimism gives me gag reflex.”

“Oh, stop it.” Roman cuffed him across the side of the head. Remus pulled away from him, fake gagging and coughing even as Roman squawked indignantly.

They stayed until the fire sputtered out, and Remus dragged them both inside. Sliding the door behind him, Roman heard the sudden sound of glass shattering through the cabin.

He whirled around, his heart plummeting to his stomach as he watched Janus dart into the kitchen. His quiet voice overlapped with Virgil’s panicked breathing.

“It’s okay, Virgil. It’s alright, it’s really not that bad. You’ve still got tonight.”

Roman grimaced. Had Virgil overheard what they’d been talking about outside? The full moon? Perhaps Virgil had been avoiding thinking about the fact that he was a werewolf for so long that it was finally catching up to him with time running out.

Remus nudged Roman in the back and jerked his head in their direction. Without needing any further encouragement, Roman slowly approached them, not wanting to spook Virgil. He crouched next to Janus, mindful of the broken glass from the empty champagne bottle.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Janus knows what he’s doing. Three years of this, remember? He’ll be with you for the whole thing.” He hesitated. “And you’ve still got me?” he asked, unsure if it was any consolation. “I’m as normal and boring as ever. I can help too. If you wanted.”

He cringed internally at his halting words, but Virgil smiled up at him, his breathing gaining normality. He turned and buried against Janus’ chest, quivering.

“I think we’ll turn in for the night,” Janus said over Virgil’s head. Roman nodded, shuffling to the side as Remus cleared the shattered glass. Virgil pulled back from Janus, shaking his head.

“I don’t think I can sleep just yet,” he admitted bitterly. “Can… you guys distract me for a bit?”

Roman mulled it over in his head for a moment. “You wanna know some stupid things Remus has done as a wolf?”

“Hey…” Remus said warningly, but Virgil and Janus’ delighted looks made Roman grin and bounce to his feet.

“Okay, okay, so the first night, he got scared of his own reflection –”

“Hey!” Remus cried.

Roman helped Virgil to his feet and helped Janus guide him back to the couches. “He was barking and growling at it for at least ten minutes before I dragged him away.”

Remus finished cleaning up the floor and brought back a bowl of chips that Virgil immediately started munching on. They exchanged stories about stupid wolves for the uppermost of half an hour before Roman began to realise it wasn’t really comforting Virgil; his shoulders were still riding up against his neck, and his eyes were darting about the room. Roman frowned. Something that would completely distract him for long enough that he’d pass out…

“What did you major in at Otago again?”

The others seemed slightly taken aback by the out-of-the-blue question, but Virgil smiled at him.

“Psychology. It was a bitch to study,” he grumbled, but Roman noticed he was already relaxing against Janus’ chest. “I swear, I lost brain cells instead of gaining them like I was supposed to.”

They talked long into the night. By the time Virgil and Janus had fallen asleep on the couch, Roman could hear birds beginning to trill outside. The sky was slowly beginning to lighten above the treeline. He dragged a blanket off the couch and threw it over Remus, who had passed out on the floor rug.

Roman glanced down the hallway towards the bedroom he had been staying in. On the one hand, that bed had been one of the most comfortable things he had ever slept in for a long, long time. It certainly seemed more appealing than the wooden floor or the other couch without a blanket.

On the other hand…

Roman stoked the fireplace and waited for the warmth to spread back into the living room. He pulled the blinds over the windows and made sure everything was locked. He curled up on the second couch, accompanied by two people who had been strangers a month ago in a cabin hidden in the mountains and had never felt safer.

Remus snorted and muttered in his sleep, rolling over and incidentally throwing the blanket off. Roman rolled his eyes and, for once, didn’t curse his brother for being stupidly loud, even asleep.

He’d missed this.

Roman woke before dusk, mainly because sunlight was streaming through the now-open blinds onto his face.

Grumbling, he sat up and looked around, rubbing his eyes.

“Good afternoon,” Janus called. Roman looked over his shoulder to see him and Remus moving about in the kitchen. The cabin was filled with smells that made Roman’s stomach rumble.

“What’s all this?” he asked as he wandered over to them.

“We figured we should try and eat something before the sun goes down,” Janus said, ducking around him and pressing a featherlight kiss to his cheek as he moved to the stove. Roman stared at a spot on the wall for longer than he’d like to admit before shaking himself and looking around.

“Where’s Virgil?”

“Miss me, Prince Charming?” the demon himself snarked as he emerged from the hallway, shooting Roman a viciously mocking smirk.

“Not even a little,” Roman huffed, crossing his arms. Virgil laughed and brushed past him, his hair tickling Roman’s nose as he went. Roman groused silently to himself. Those two would have to stop doing that before he had a goddamn stroke.

He caught Remus’ amused smirk and stuck his tongue out. To avoid his brother’s stupid eyebrow wiggles and suggestive noises, Roman helped Virgil set the table and realised with a start that they hadn’t had a proper meal together since they’d arrived at the cabin. Remus hadn’t come out of his room, or Roman hadn’t been hungry, or something had always prevented it. He squinted suspiciously as Remus brought the food over to the table.

“Alright, what sort of disgusting dog food have you…” Roman trailed off, “made….” Janus placed the cooked turkey beside the salad and potatoes. “What the fuck.”

“We’re not dogs just yet,” Janus said with a smirk.

Roman leaned back in his chair. “Holy crap.”

“Would you like to know what Remus said to me when he found me making dinner?” Janus asked in a way that told them he was going to say it anyway. Remus rolled his eyes and grumbled mutinously under his breath. Janus cleared his throat primly and puffed out his chest. “We’ve been here four weeks, and you’re just now telling us you can cook? I’ve been living off cold meat and crackers!”

Roman snorted at his impeccable imitation, and Remus’ face turned impressive shades of red.

“We never stopped you from cooking anything,” Virgil pointed out with a smirk at Remus.

Remus opened and closed his mouth back at him, his face screwed up mockingly.

Roman had always believed that Remus couldn’t cook to save his life. He didn’t know what Janus had taught him (or how much he’d done himself), but the meal had to be the best thing Roman had tasted in a long time. Perhaps it was the whole ‘food is better with company’ bullshit or something, but he didn’t want to get too sappy with himself. The sun would be going down soon – he had to focus. He’d be dealing with three wolves this time, and he had barely managed to look after Remus.

Roman was clearing the table as the others chatted idly when a distant shot rang out across the mountain valley. He froze at the sink where he was scrubbing the dishes. “What was that?”

Janus flippantly waved his hand, raising his wine glass to his lips. “Hunters. You can find some pretty rare birds up here.”

“That’s horrible,” Roman murmured.

“Do they taste good?” Remus asked at the same time. Roman shot him a horrid look.

Janus wrinkled his nose. “Too feathery.”

Roman turned his appalled look on Janus.

He stepped away from the kitchen, peering out of the windows anxiously. “Should we be worried that they’re so close?”

Virgil shook his head. “We get them around here occasionally. They’ll be heading home before sunset anyway.”

“If you’re sure,” Roman said dubiously.

“Relax, dear,” Janus purred, and Roman was not blushing at that, shut up Remus. 

The others suitably full, Roman approached the question that had been bothering him since Virgil’s near panic attack: what happens when the sun set?

He was glad Janus and Virgil knew what he meant. Naturally, he was aware of the full moon, but what bothered him was how Remus might react in the new environment. Were the wolves supposed to stay indoors? All three of them? Roman wasn’t sure that was much of an option – three apex predators stuck in the same building? How territorial did werewolves get? What could Roman do if they fought?

But he was reluctant to let any of them outside, especially now knowing that hunters made it this deep into the mountains.

“I would just do whatever Janus seemed to want,” Virgil said with a shrug. “Some nights he’d stay inside with me, some nights he’d wait at the front door to go out.”

“Speaking in pack terms, I’ve already bonded with Virgil and Remus,” Janus added. “So it’s doubtful even as wolves we’ll become aggressive with each other. If any of us go outside, markers are set about the mountains indicating where not to go too far.”

“Markers…?” Roman echoed slowly.

Janus raised an eyebrow. “How do wolves normally mark their territory, darling?”

Roman wrinkled his nose. “Ew.”

“I doubt anyone will be shooting at us this time, either,” Remus piped up. “So I probably won’t go running for the hills.”

Yeah, thanks for that, by the way, Roman wanted to mutter sarcastically, but he knew deep down that he was actually glad that his brother had done the right thing in protecting himself.

“I’m sure you’re smart enough to work out the rest,” Janus said, waving his hand.

Roman folded his arms over his chest. “So, if you sit at the fridge like a begging dog, you want food, or if you start clawing up the doors, you want out?”

“Pretty much,” Janus said through a razor-sharp smile.

Roman rolled his eyes, hoping no one caught the way he had begun to fidget with his hands. Outside, the sun was starting to sink behind the mountains. “Is there anything I can do to make it any easier?”

Janus and Virgil glanced at each other in surprise. Roman ducked his head, embarrassed. Was that a dumb question?

Remus glanced between the three of them, baffled.

“Just stay with us?” he said with a shrug like it was obvious. He looked almost disgusted. “That’s all that matters to me, at least.”

“The fact that you haven’t gone running and screaming by now says a lot,” agreed Virgil.

Roman nodded without meeting any of their gazes, silently fuming. Stupid idiots being stupidly sweet and making him feel stupidly warm stupid stupid stupid this sucked.

Janus had been smirking at him, but his expression abruptly dropped as he frowned at nothing. He tilted his head, listening intently.

Virgil straightened in his chair with a matching expression. “What was that?”

The three of them began glancing around, and Roman almost wished he had the same heightened hearing. He shuffled in his chair anxiously as Remus stood and padded near-silently over to the dining room window, peering out onto the deck. He jumped, flinching back and waving frantically at the others.

“Down, down!” he hissed, hitting the floor and drawing the curtains over the window.

Roman ducked off the chair around to the other side of the table. Through the crack in the curtains, he watched several shapes move past the window towards the front door with countless thumping footsteps. He caught glimpses of dark uniforms. The door handle rattled.

“What do we do?” Roman whispered.

“Back door,” Janus hissed, pushing at him and Virgil. Remus scurried after them. The front door began to shudder under the force of heavy hits.

“The sun’s almost down,” Roman protested.

“We don’t have a choice,” snapped Janus, shoving at him. “Go!”

They scrambled down the hallway to the back door, clambering out onto the balcony and stumbling down the stairs.

“How did they find us?” Roman gasped against the frigid air. The mountains were now completely dark.

“Damn tracking dogs, probably,” Remus snarled. He stumbled to his knees with a groan. 

Roman skidded to a stop and hoisted him back to his feet. “Not yet, Remus.”

“As if I can fucking help it,” snarled Remus, yanking himself from Roman’s grasp. Ahead of them, Virgil tripped into Janus, clutching his head with a scream of pain.

Roman reached for him, but the bushes shuddered at the same time as a gunshot rang out from the cabin.

Janus slung Virgil’s arm around his neck and began veering off to the mountain's side. “Keep going. I’ll get him somewhere safe.”

“Absolutely not!” Roman cried, but Remus’ hand tightening on his arm kept him from rushing after them.

“No arguing,” Remus said, dragging them further down the mountain.

“Remus!” Roman cried, struggling against his brother.

Another bullet whizzed past his head, and the ground abruptly gave way beneath them. Roman lost his grip on Remus as ferns whipped past him and branches pulled at his hair. He landed in a heap at the bottom of the gully, gasping for breath. He wiped the blood dripping into his eyes from a thin cut over his eyebrow and looked around. He couldn’t see anything past the dense foliage.

“Remus?”

Another gunshot rang out overhead.

Fighting everything telling him not to, Roman forced himself to his feet and staggered away from the slope, deeper into the forest.

He had to trust that the others would be doing the same thing. He couldn’t see the sky anymore, but it was dark enough to know that the full moon was visible. If they had any self-preservational wolf instincts about them, the others would be long gone now. Roman was the one he should be more concerned about.

Impossibly, Roman heard trampling footsteps behind him, too clumsy and heavy-footed to be a werewolf. With a new burst of adrenaline, Roman took off, careless of spiderwebs and sharp branches he smacked into.

The ground turned pilate and soft under his boots. He had a second to register the sudden drop-off before he skidded to a stop. He stood at the edge of the cliff, a roaring waterfall a few feet to his right as he looked over the bluff.

“Oh, fuck me,” he wheezed.

As he frantically searched for any way down, footsteps crashed through the forest after him. He whirled around in time to see Logan fucking Berrycloth stumble out of the tree line and stop to stare at him a few feet away.

Logan paused in shock at seeing Roman. Roman glared back at him, his eyes narrowing at the gun in his hands.

“I let you go, Roman,” Logan said, his voice barely carrying over the sound of gushing water. “Why didn’t you just go home?”

“What now, you shoot me?” Roman clenched his fists. “Was selling me out the first time not enough for you?”

“I’ve been ordered to shoot on sight and dispose of anyone who gets in my way,” Logan said heavily. He held his hand out, lowering his gun. “Roman, please. Just come with me.”

Roman didn’t move. “So you can try to brainwash me some more? Trick me into giving you information?” Logan dropped his hand, his face hardening. “The thing you’re hunting? The monster you’ve been shooting at for months? That’s your partner.”

 “It is not my boyfriend, it is not your brother, it is not Remus.” Logan’s face screwed up in anger, his voice beginning to rise. “I took them off your trail for as long as I could, but there’s no stopping this now. You’re wanted for tampering and conspiring with evidence.”

“That’s really all they are to you?” uttered Roman. “Specimens? Science projects?”

“We’re just trying to put an end to this,” yelled Logan. “People are in danger.”

“The only people in danger are the ones you keep shooting at!” Roman shouted back.

Logan shook his head. His hand returned to his gun, and Roman’s heart dropped as he raised it back up. His face was stony now, void of any anger or regret that might have graced his features seconds ago.

“They’re not people, Roman,” he said icily.

Roman took a step back. Dirt crumbled beneath his heel.

The ferns behind Logan snarled viciously, and a dappled brown wolf lunged from the foliage, fangs bared and fur bristling.

Remus latched onto Logan’s extended arm and tore his head back and forth, his extended claws digging into through the thick vest. Blood sprayed out onto the damp soil, and Logan shouted in alarm.

Logan flailed and stumbled, buckling under the weight of the enormous wolf as it tore into his forearm.

Roman ducked to the side, preferring the risk of a waterfall over a stray bullet.

The four of them spent the remainder of the day resting in a nearby hotel. Virgil hadn’t been exaggerating; Remus had been oddly more prickly than usual, which was an noticeable contrast to the morning after the first full moon.

So Roman had kept his distance from Remus. He didn’t want to hold too much of a grudge. From what Virgil had said, it was typical to be tired and grouchy, but it was infuriating to watch Remus brush off the danger they’d gotten themselves into.

Roman was used to Remus being careless about his safety, but when so much as a slip-up could get him killed, Roman was less keen on letting his brother get away with his nonchalance.

Yet, after some rest, Remus got them all food from the cafe on the bottom floor, and even though he’d shoved Roman’s box of food into his hands and crossed to the other side of the room without a word, Roman took the hot comfort meal as an apology. It was as much of an apology as he was going to get, but he didn’t mind.

Virgil and Janus were mulling over a printed-out map on the coffee table. From what Roman had seen of Janus, he didn’t seem nearly as bad as Virgil had described him. He was collected, calculating, and polite enough once he had deemed Roman trustworthy. Plus, he seemed to have been looking after Remus while they were wolves on that full moon, which Roman could appreciate.

“They’ll still be trying to monitor us,” Virgil was saying. “We’ll need to keep heading south for a bit, maybe down to Otago.”

“And then where?” Roman piped up, walking up to them.

“Queenstown,” Virgil said. He scooted over on the couch, and Roman sheepishly sat beside him. “We have a secluded cabin hidden in the mountains between The Remarkables and Mount Aspiring. It’s a national park of at least three thousand square klicks. That’ll be our next stop.”

As much as it was a must-see for tourists, Roman had never been to the mountain range that was so highly proclaimed. He didn’t doubt Virgil and Janus had a house there, but…

“Are you sure it’s safe?” he asked hesitantly.

“It’s the safest bet we’ve got,” Janus said smoothly. “We can lay low there for as long as it takes for this to blow over.”

“I think you guys need some semblance of consistency right now,” Virgil agreed, bumping his shoulder against Roman’s.

“That would be nice,” Roman admitted quietly.

Janus folded the map back up and stood. “Well, let’s get going, shall we? If you’ve all had sufficient rest,” he added with a sharp look in Remus’ direction. Remus, sulking at the far end of the dining table, met his gaze unwavering.

“Yeah,” he said, standing up and throwing his leftover food in the trash. “Let’s go.”

They loaded into the car. To his surprise, Janus had offered shotgun to Roman, but he hadn’t done it to interrogate him. Instead, Janus had just merely handed the aux cord to him and said he didn’t care what music Roman chose. Roman quietly wondered if there was more to Janus’ actions than he said aloud, but he didn’t ask.

So Roman picked a song he knew Remus liked and tried not to be too pleased with himself when his brother perked up enough to sing along.

As the day stretched, whatever awkward tensions between the four of them dissipated. Perhaps it was the whole ‘trauma bonding’ thing that Roman had never really bought into. He never had an issue singing along with just about anyone, but the fact that by dusk, Janus and Virgil had joined in told Roman that maybe they had gotten just as comfortable.

They came around a long bend that opened onto a beach, lit orange and red by the sun.

“Damn,” Remus said. He kicked the back of Roman’s seat. “Do you reckon I could fight a shark?”

“Stop it,” Roman said, reaching back to try and slap his leg. Remus dodged out of the way.

“We’re not going for a swim,” Janus said as he slowed the car. “But I’m stretching my legs.”

They parked off the side of the road. Roman stretched his arms over his head, wrinkling his nose against the rough wind that kicked in from the sea. On the other hand, Remus seemed to have no issue swallowing sand, leaping out from the car and setting out on the beach.

Virgil stuck to the car, looking at the field on the other side of the road. Janus joined him, exchanging a quiet conversation. Roman edged away, trying not to be too intrusive.

“Don’t mind Remus,” Janus said, and Roman realised he was addressing him. “He travelled almost two hundred miles to get back to you. He’s just embarrassed about it.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “It’s not that that bothers me.”

“It’s sensible to worry about him,” Janus said. “It may take a while, but he’ll learn his strengths in time.”

“I wish he didn’t have to be so reckless about it,” Roman muttered, rubbing his arms. Below them, Remus was stalking along the sand, poking at rocks and shells.

“It’s a defence mechanism,” Janus mused. “I brushed off Virgil’s worries for an entire year before reality knocked some sense into me. Believe it or not, you two are handling it far better than we did.”

Roman scoffed. “Bullshit.”

“No, really,” Janus said in a tone that made Roman more sceptical, but a look in Janus’ eyes made Roman want to believe him. “I’m surprised our relationship survived it.”

“That bad?” Roman murmured.

Janus laughed good-naturedly. “Oh yeah. Your brotherly squabbles haven’t got anything on it.”

Roman matched his smile and looked away before he could think anything stupid.

“Did you guys see that?”

They looked over at Virgil, who was steadily creeping across the empty road over the long grass. Janus sniffed but immediately shuddered in disgust.

“Can’t smell anything except sea spray,” he called.

“The wind’s going the other way,” Roman said, glancing back down at his oblivious brother.

“Hey, Virgil,” Janus called, and there was an edge to his voice that made Roman nervous.

He thought he barely spotted movement in the grass unnatural to the wind before Janus was lunging forward.

“Oh, shit –” Virgil was cut off by three huge police dogs leaping from the field. Roman didn’t have a chance to scream before blood was splattering onto dirt, and Virgil had stopped screaming. Roman could just barely see his body twitching on the asphalt, jerking with the movement as two of the dogs dug their teeth into his throat. The third turned on Roman, paralysed against the car.

Roman had barely blinked when Remus was on the roadside in front of him, colliding with the dog with his own snarl. The dog yelped, writhing under Remus’ weight.

Roman had a second to look away before there was a gross snap and abrupt silence.

Time stretched. Roman listened to the muted, dull thudding of his own heart against his ribs. The spot of blood on the road near his left boot was all blurry and warped. Roman almost didn't want to blink or breathe. Perhaps if he did, everything would come back into focus.

Someone screamed. Roman's heart leapt into his throat.

“Virgil!”

Roman looked up. The dogs were dead, their necks twisted at unnatural angles. Janus was crouched next to his boyfriend, his pants soaked through with blood.

“Oh, Jesus,” Roman rasped, brushing past his brother over to them. He tried not to look at Virgil’s torn throat or how blood bubbled between his lips.

“What the fuck happened?” Remus demanded.

“Police dogs,” Roman said, his hands shaking as he cupped them over Janus’ as they pressed his jacket to Virgil’s neck. “I don’t know how they tracked us.”

“Fuck,” Remus hissed, running his hands through his hair. “Fuck. Shit.”

Janus hadn’t said a word. His face was sickeningly pale. He was in shock. Roman glanced up at his brother. “He needs help.”

Virgil wasn’t even twitching anymore, even as Janus shook him desperately. Roman leaned over and squeezed Janus’ shoulder.

“Let me go,” Janus snarled, jerking away. “Virgil. Virgil!”

“Janus, we have to get him to a hospital,” gasped Roman.

“He won’t make it,” Remus said. Roman shot him a dismayed look. Deep down, he knew Remus was right. Virgil’s eyes had clouded over, and he’d stopped gasping. Blood continued to trickle from his mouth without any hindrance, but Roman wasn’t thinking about that. He wasn’t thinking about how the one person besides his brother who had been at his side was dying in front of him. He wasn’t thinking about how he had watched this person get torn to pieces by fucking guard dogs a few feet away, and he had done nothing. He’d just watched someone – someone who had given him something to lean on, someone who had done nothing but support him and tell him everything he knew that could help, someone he’d started to consider a friend – die in front of him.

Janus shoved Roman away from him. He lifted Virgil’s arm and, before either of the brothers could stop him, sunk his teeth into Virgil’s wrist.

“Janus!” Roman shouted, horrified, but anything he could possibly think of saying was interrupted by Virgil sucking in a choked gasp.

He immediately started hacking, spitting blood and heaving for breath.

Janus lifted his boyfriend into his arms and buried his face into Virgil’s sweat-soaked hair.

Roman and Remus exchanged glances.

“We need to get out of here,” Roman whispered.

“Janus, come on, time to go,” Remus said, slapping his shoulder. Janus stumbled as he stood with Virgil in his arms, and Remus moved to help support the weight. They set Janus in the back seat with Virgil still in his lap.

“It’d be a three-hour drive to Queenstown,” Roman said as he stood outside the car with his brother, nervously wringing his hands.

Remus was already moving for the driver’s side. “Bullshit. I can make it less than two.”

Remus pelted down the highway, overtaking any cars they came across. For once, his appalling driving was the last thing on Roman’s mind.

“I can’t believe he did that,” Roman breathed, his dull gaze fixed on the passing scenery.

Remus glanced briefly at the rear-view mirror, watching Janus absentmindedly stroking his partner’s hair with robotic movements.

“I don’t think he can, either,” Remus said tightly.

Roman curled into a tight ball, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes. “If you save someone’s life by cursing them, does it still count?” He sensed Remus’ glance in his direction, but his brother remained silent. “He doesn’t deserve this. None of you do.”

Remus sighed. Roman tilted his head, watching Remus flex his grip on the steering wheel.

“Yeah, we didn’t ask for this,” he said, sounding drained. Roman’s gut curled with pain. “But there are ways to cope.” He glanced back at Janus and Virgil. “Evidently.”

Roman swallowed. It was his turn not to respond.

To his shock, Remus reached over and squeezed Roman’s arm for a second before pulling back as if he’d been burned.

“We’ll make it,” Remus said, that same damn unconcerned mask back over his voice. “They’ll be fine.”

True to his word, they arrived at the edge of Queenstown before the sky had completely lost light. Janus seemed to stir from his trance at the sight of the sign they passed, and he leaned forward as much as he dared without jostling Virgil.

“We have a car,” he said, his voice croaky. “We can’t take this one. It’s obviously been flagged. Turn down Park Street.”

“You guys just have cars lying around?” Remus said but did as Janus directed.

“Three years,” Janus reminded him, but the confident snark in his voice was lulled. “You learn a few things.”

“I’m sure,” mused Remus.

Janus led them to their new getaway ride, waiting in a secluded parking area with no nearby cars or buildings. Remus pulled up next to it and hopped out of the vehicle. Roman moved to the back of the car, opening the door for Janus.

Virgil stirred as Janus lifted him, blinking and looking around wearily.

“Where…” he whispered, looking around shakily. “What happened…?”

“Relax, darling,” Janus murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You’re safe.”

“My arm,” Virgil croaked, struggling to sit by himself, but he shook with the effort, and his limbs flopped like jello.

“Stop, my dear.” Janus held him tighter, preventing his attempts to move. “I’ve got you.”

Virgil groaned and pressed his face into Janus’ jacket. Roman guided Janus carefully out of the car and moved to share Virgil’s weight between them when Janus stumbled.

“Easy,” he hummed. Janus said nothing, but he leaned against Roman’s shoulder, and Roman took it as silent gratitude. Roman helped Janus gently manoeuvre Virgil into the back of the new car, but Janus didn’t join him this time, instead going back to the other car and rummaging through the backpacks.

“Janus, you need to sit down,” Roman started, moving back towards him and trying to draw him back.

Janus slipped a lighter from the inner pocket of the bag. Roman eyed it wearily. “Uh, what’s that for?”

Janus didn’t answer him, instead opening the car trunk and lifting out a goddamn jerrycan.

“Janus…” Roman said slowly, taking a step back.

“Give me your phones and wallets,” Janus said over his shoulder to the brothers.

“Excuse me,” Roman asked.

Remus squawked indignantly. “You are not burning my phone! Or my cash!”

“We can buy you new phones, and take the cash out of your wallet, dumbass,” Janus snapped acidly. “We can’t risk them tracking us again.”

“But –” Remus started.

“Now,” growled Janus. There was a dark look in his eyes that put Roman on edge. He shot Remus a narrow-eyed look. With an exaggerated eye-roll and groan, Remus practically chucked his phone and wallet (with any leftover cash stuffed into his pockets) at Janus.

“Unbelievable,” he scoffed, stalking off further down the hill to sulk.

Roman sighed. He glanced between Virgil, curled safely in the back of the other car, Janus, beginning to soak the old vehicle in foul-smelling petrol, and his brother, who had stopped, staring at something.

Roman trudged down the hill after Remus, hands in his pockets. He scuffed his boot against a stone, and it skittered down the slope, rolling off the path into the grass.

“I guess we’re dead to the government now,” he said to Remus, who paused and let Roman catch up.

“Finally,” Remus muttered.

Roman squinted at the darkening sky. “Let’s get out of here.”

Remus didn’t answer for a moment.

“One second.” His voice was barely audible as he pulled away from Roman, continuing down to the main road.

“Remus, we don’t have time for this….” Roman trailed off, realising Remus’ gaze was set on a payphone at the base of the hill.

Roman stayed where he was, trying to ignore his aching chest as Remus slipped spare coins into the payphone and dialled a number that Roman couldn’t see from where he stood but knew off by heart.

Roman watched Remus’ lips move into the receiver, faux-calmly, even as his hand clenched unnaturally tight on the phone. Roman wrapped his arms around his stomach, feeling nauseous as Remus began to shake his head and pinch the bridge of his nose.

Roman didn’t need a wolf’s hearing to know that Remus was trying to salvage the last semblance of normality he had – his boyfriend. Roman tried to silence the traitorous thoughts hissing in the back of his mind that it wouldn’t work, that Remus’ heart was going to break all over again, that this would just make things worse.

Remus was beginning to raise his voice, wildly gesticulating within the small box.

“This has nothing to do with Roman,” he snapped, his voice carrying up to Roman. “You fucking moron, listen to –”

His voice cut off as a breeze brushed the door closed behind him, and Roman lost track of what he was saying.

A few seconds later, Remus slammed the phone back onto the hook. He continued to shout what Roman could only assume were obscenities. He punched the plastic walls of the payphone booth before clutching his head in his hands. Even with the door closed, Roman could hear his scream from the hill.

Heart aching, Roman turned and steadily trekked back up the hill. He’d already intruded enough.

Virgil was lucid when Roman returned to the car. He was propped up in the back seat with the bags as makeshift pillows. He greeted Roman with a frail smile when he saw him.

“How are you feeling?” Roman asked, crouching at the open door.

“I can hear a baby crying two blocks down, and I feel like I’m going to vomit at the stench of petrol.”

Roman forced a brittle laugh, but his smile fell. “I’m sorry. The authorities are still on us.”

“They won’t be soon enough,” Virgil said. “Janus is making sure of it.”

Roman couldn’t help but reach forward and squeeze Virgil’s leg comfortingly. “You did so well.”

“I hardly did anything.” Virgil shrugged. “I stood there and got attacked by dogs.”

“But you made it,” Roman stressed.

“Janus took care of that part,” Virgil pointed out. Roman fixed him with an unimpressed look, to which Virgil shrugged again, this time fighting an unmistakable smile. “I’m just saying.”

Roman opened and closed his mouth, sticking his tongue out mockingly. Virgil laughed heartily, then grimaced and pressed a hand to his head.

“Can we hurry up and get this show on the road?” he complained. “That petrol is actually going to make me gag.”

The smell was strong even for Roman. He couldn’t imagine what Virgil was going through between waking up with suddenly heightened senses and the first thing he smelt was the sickeningly overwhelming gasoline covering an entire car a few metres away.

“We’re waiting on Remus,” Janus called over to them, chucking the now-empty jerrycan into the old car.

Roman sighed, standing up. “I’ll go get him.”

“Don’t bother.” Roman turned to see Remus stalking over the hill and beelining it for the car with hunched shoulders and a tight expression.

Janus sparked the lighter and chucked it inside the old jeep. Flames immediately engulfed the vehicle, and the stench of gasoline wafted on the breeze. Roman reached out and put a hand to Janus’ chest as he walked back them and moved for the driver seat.

“Stay with Virgil,” he said, not unkindly.

“I’m fine. Really,” Virgil piped up from the back. They both ignored him. Janus smiled at Roman, and Roman furiously tried to stop the way it made his heart throb. He caught Remus moving past them for the driver’s seat as Janus climbed into the back, and he slid into his path.

“You. Get in the passenger seat.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Remus growled, but he sounded like his fire had been extinguished. Behind him, the flames of the burning car billowed higher.

“Just do it.” Roman shoved him to the other side of the car and hopped behind the wheel, turning the key already waiting in the ignition. “Where am I going, Jay?”

Janus looked up in surprise. Colour brushed across his cheeks. He cleared his throat and slapped Virgil’s hand away from where it was teasingly poking at his ribs. “Up the trail, take a left.”

The light of the burning wreckage reflected from the rearview mirror in Roman’s eyes until it disappeared between the trees as Roman drove the car up the mountain and away from the last remnants of their old life.

Roman lost track of the directions Janus relayed to him. Nearly an hour passed of carefully manoeuvring the car around a narrow road with sharp bends and steep climbs, and unexpected turns he was instructed to take, he was beginning to see how this cabin was so hidden.

“There’s a right up here,” Janus said, leaning forward and pointing across Roman’s chest. “It’s a tight squeeze between the trees, but you’ll make it. If you’re careful.” He shot a deadly look at Roman. “If you scratch the car, I’ll kill you.”

“Hey, Remus was the one who crashed Mum and Dad’s car on his first try and flunked three tests before he got his licence,” Roman said, shooting Remus a grin, which was missed entirely. Remus was scowling out the window and didn’t even budge at the dig. 

Roman focused back on the road. He brushed past the trees without a single scrape, which he was admittedly pretty proud of.

After one more way too steep, Jesus Christ, what if they rolled oh my god, they would all fucking die hill, they pulled up and over the crest, and Roman wondered if he was halluncinating.

In front of them, there was an enormous cabin built into the mountainside, overlooking the forest. Lanterns flickered with light from where they perched on the cabin balcony. A small greenhouse was attached to the right, its tinted glass glinting off the lamplight.

“Holy shit,” Roman breathed, coming to a stop.

“I would make a mi casa joke, but I really cannot be bothered,” Janus said, kicking the door open and clambering out. Roman took the bags as Janus helped Virgil up the stairs to the cabin.

Janus unlocked the front door with a golden key attached to the car keys and left the door open behind him. Roman followed Remus in, pushed the door closed, and nearly dropped the bags in shock. The living room was an open, spacious area, twice the size of some of the motel rooms Roman had been staying at. A pair of giant, plush couches surrounded a fire pit built into the far wall. On the other side of the room, the kitchen was almost glistening. There was not a single utensil out of place between the pans hanging from hooks, the bar stools at the kitchen island, or the gorgeous chandelier hanging above the long dining table.

Roman almost expected Remus to make some kind of joke about getting turned on for a house, but his brother only moved for a door adjacent to the front of the cabin, sliding it aside and stepping out onto the open deck. Roman caught glimpses of outdoor futons and a round fire pit, but his attention was dragged away by Janus pushing Virgil into a chair at the dining table.

“Wait here,” he said quietly, running his fingers through Virgil’s hair. “I’ll get the bath running.”

“Seriously, it’s just a headache,” Virgil groaned, pulling away from his gentle touch.

“Your body is still recovering from the blood loss. I’m not having you fall over, crack your head on the tiles, and make an even bigger mess.” Janus turned down a long hallway. He threw a vicious smirk over his shoulder. “And you stink.”

Virgil spluttered, but Janus was gone before he could muster a retort. Roman shuffled awkwardly on his feet.

“Where do you guys want these?” he asked, holding out their bags.

Virgil perked up as if he had forgotten Roman was there. “Throw them in the master bedroom, the last door on the right.” He pointed down the hall. “Have a look around. Pick whichever bedroom you’d like.”

Roman nodded and did as he was told. Whatever childish glee he knew he should be feeling at the aspect of living in a vast, gorgeous mountainside cabin was painfully absent. As he passed the bathroom, where Janus was fluttering around, three extra bedrooms and what looked to be a study, he quickly realised that he didn’t care where he would sleep.

He found himself back in the living room. Remus being out on the balcony and Janus coming out to escort Virgil back down the hallway felt like worlds away as Roman stood in the main room, alone.

They were safe. Finally. For a while.

Roman lost track of how long he crouched in the back alleyway, trying to stop his chest from burning and his vision from swimming.

When he could breathe without feeling like he was either going to throw up, faint or both, he uncurled his legs and pressed the back of his head to the building he was leaning against.

He was so distracted with his shaking gasps that he didn’t hear the quiet footsteps passing the alleyway and then backtracking.

“I wouldn’t be outside on a night like this if I were you.”

Roman leapt up in terror, his fight-or-flight senses screaming. The person jumped too. Hidden in the shadow of the building, Roman followed the light of the overhead lamp to someone around his age, dressed in a hoodie and jeans and definitely not an agent. They looked just as baffled as Roman.

“Where am I?” was the only thing Roman could think to say before this person’s common sense kicked in, and they fled.

They looked around with a slight frown. “Uh… a back alleyway.” They squinted through the lamplight, their eyes a startling blue. “What drugs are you on?”

Roman grit his teeth. “What city am I in?”

The person blinked as if their brain was buffering. “You’re in Christchurch.” They glanced around the empty streets, seemingly distracted from the crazy-looking idiot hiding in an alley. “You should get indoors. Tonight could be dangerous, with the full moon and all.”

“What, you and your gang of emos out here summoning demons?” Roman snarked, emerging into the lamplight.

They glanced back at him, and recognition lit up in their eyes. “You’re Roman Parata.”

Roman hesitated, suspicions suddenly back on alert.

“Why do you care?” he said slowly.

They pushed their hands into the pockets of their hoodie. “Heard talk on the news. You and your brother going missing, running from the police with seemingly no motives, all that.” They shrugged, looking far too relaxed. “It’s interesting.”

“What do you want?” Roman demanded.

The person mulled over their following words, studying Roman like he was some sort of puzzle. Finally, they tilted their head in consideration. “About that wolf –”

Roman didn’t let them finish, shooting forward and burying his hand in the front of their hoodie. He pinned them against the side of the building, his other fist clenched and raised for their face.

“What the hell do you want?” he snarled, careless of how their eyes widened and immediately held up their hands in surrender.

“Hey, hey! It’s okay,” they said, quailing away from his threatening punch. “I know what you’re going through. I have one too.”

Roman hesitated. “One what?”

They swallowed. “He’s my boyfriend. He got bit three years ago. We’ve made it work.”

Roman slowly pulled back. They didn’t immediately run for the street, even as Roman uncurled his hands from their hoodie. What were they saying? In the back of his mind, some dark corner that he had never wanted to acknowledge, Roman had wondered if there were somehow other werewolves running about the country. Ones who went around biting idiots who were stupid enough to get too close and on the run from the police and FBI, too.

He had never imagined he would ever meet someone who knew about them.

“How…. Did you follow me?” Roman asked, wary of the trust he was aching to latch onto.

The person rubbed the back of their neck, which was enough of an indication that perhaps Roman should have knocked them out.

“You’ve been all over the media,” they said again. “Normally, we wouldn’t care, but… hopping motels and being spotted in fuel stations, and the dates matching up… It made too much sense. When we found out you were in Wanaka, we agreed we’d try to find you. Janus and I can help.”

Roman scowled. “Why would you want to?”

The person sighed heavily, turning his guilt-ridden expression to the ground.

“Because Janus is the one that bit your brother,” they said in a whisper.

Roman stumbled until his back thumped against the other side of the alleyway. The person held out their hands placatingly.

“Listen, it’s… let me help. My name’s Virgil Rawiri. I was a university student at Otago. I majored in psych.”

Roman let the useless flow of words wash over him, giving him a chance to catch his breath and simultaneously keep track of where this kid was.

“I stayed in student housing with my boyfriend. I was just like you. I know what you’re going through. You don’t have to do this by yourself.”

Roman looked up, and… Virgil – what was this, the nineteenth century? – crouched in front of him. Roman studied him, taking in his earnest expression and hunched shoulders.

“So… y-your boyfriend,” he started.

Virgil nodded. “He’s a werewolf.”

Roman glanced around the street, wondering if a huge wolf was suddenly going to burst out from the shadows and lunge at his throat.

“He isn’t in town; it’s not safe,” Virgil said. He stood up and glanced anxiously over his shoulder. “We’re too close to the Feds here. Come with me.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” Roman asked, ragged.

Virgil hesitated. He sighed, running a hand through his violet hair.

“Honestly, from your perspective, you probably can’t,” he said, and what did this guy want? “It’s our fault your brother got turned. We’ve technically been…” he screwed up his face, “stalking you across the South Island. There’s not much spelling out trustworthy in those actions, I guess.

“But we’ve had our run-ins before. We know how to miss them. We know how to stay hidden and safe.” His gaze softened. “And I know what it’s like to shoulder this sort of thing alone.”

Roman blinked. He hated the sudden lump in his throat. When did that get there?

“My best friend sold us out,” he said and startled slightly at the sound of his own quavering, thready voice. “He’s working with the FBI. I’m a three-hour drive from where I last saw Remus, and the last I was with him, he was being shot at.” Roman blinked his suddenly stinging eyes. He dug his hands into his hair, fighting another wave of anxiety. He swallowed the sobs that were forcing themselves up into his throat. “I don’t know what to do.”

Virgil gingerly sat beside him. “Let’s try something,” he said, his voice low and calm despite the way Roman was now gasping for air.

Utterly unfazed by a stranger having a breakdown in front of him, Virgil began to talk Roman through an odd breathing exercise, coaxing him to take timed breaths.

After a few minutes, Roman sniffed and sighed, wrangling himself back under control. Jesus, how often was he going to lose it in one night?

“That’s a good technique,” he croaked.

“Yeah, well, I can tell when a panic attack has been building,” Virgil said with a wry smile. “Comes in handy, huh?”

Roman surprised himself by smiling back.

Virgil stood up and held out his hand. “Come on. Our motel’s a few blocks away.”

Roman, with no one else to hold onto, took Virgil’s outstretched hand.

Virgil moved swiftly and quietly across the dark streets, still empty in the early hours of the morning. Roman followed his lead when he ducked out of sight from stray cars that passed down the road or avoided the light from overhead lamps.

Roman was vaguely surprised that Virgil wasn’t a werewolf; the way his eyes darted about like he could hear any tiny movement or the way he moved almost silently. Even his heavy-looking combat boots barely made a sound against the pavement. Perhaps those tendencies came with living with a wolf boyfriend for years.

The motel Virgil and his partner had been staying at was no flashier than any of the cheap one-nighters Roman had been in. It made him feel slightly comforted about all the rickety beds and cold rooms he’d spent his time in.

Virgil buzzed them in and walked through the lobby with a friendly nod to the night guard at the desk, who smiled like Virgil was an old friend and paid no attention to Roman’s dishevelled appearance. Roman followed him up a few flights of stairs, and as he was beginning to wonder if he was about to be murdered, Virgil opened a dorm door into a clean little apartment reassuringly void of dismembered body parts and knives.

“Oh,” he said, releasing the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “This is nice.”

Virgil had moved over to the two couches and began to pack a charger and water bottles into a waiting backpack.

“What, were you expecting a slaughterhouse?” he asked over his shoulder.

Roman didn’t answer.

Virgil shrugged one shoulder. “Eh, fair enough.”

Roman glanced around the motel, trying not to be too invasive.

Virgil seemed to pick up on it. “I’m going to meet with Janus at dawn, then we can go looking for your brother, okay?”

“Won’t… your boyfriend be confused when the full moon passes and you’re not in the motel?” Roman asked.

“We plan things ahead,” Virgil said. “We talk it over before Janus transforms. The next town, the next motel we meet, and so on. We make a stash of food and clothes somewhere on the outskirts of town before the full moon, where he can return to before we catch up. We can’t stop moving for long.”

“Yeah,” mumbled Roman. “I know the feeling.”

Virgil finished packing the rest of his belongings and slung his bag over his shoulder. Roman held his tongue while Virgil handed his keycard back to the night guard and guided him down to where his car had been parked at the back of the motel. It was a cute little white four-by-four jeep that distantly reminded Roman of the cars in Jurassic Park.

It made him wonder what had happened to their own car, if it was still parked outside the lake-side cabin or if it had been taken as evidence. He tried not to think about the changes they’d made to Remus’ truck and how the efforts to avoid detection hadn’t been enough.

Finally, after Virgil had chucked his bag in the back and gestured for him to get into the passenger seat, Roman asked the question that had been swirling around in his head.

“So, were you stalking me the moment the Feds caught us in Lake Tekapo?”

Virgil laughed, shocked, and shook his head. “No, we lost track of you when you left Timaru. I can never sleep during full moons – I went to get something to eat. It was sheer dumb luck that I ran into you.” He smirked. “Glad I did, huh?”

Roman absentmindedly watched the street they drove down. Virgil’s headlights barely lit up the road ahead, most of the town already illuminated up by the bright, round moon above. It made Roman feel sick. He needed something to think about before he worked himself into another tizzy.

“How do you guys afford all of this?” he asked, glancing at Virgil. “We started to struggle after a month. I can’t imagine doing this for three years.”

“I’ll pick up a job every so often at a different town for a few months under different names,” Virgil said like it was nothing. After this long, Roman didn’t blame him. “Heavy makeup and hair dye can do wonders for employers who don’t care about the government finding out about a nobody who will take just about any ridiculous shift they’re asked of. Helps pay for fuel and a bed here and there.”

Virgil turned onto State Highway 76. “Mostly, we have a few houses scattered about that Janus’ stupid-rich parents left for him before they died. They’re still under his family’s name, so they can’t be sold.”

Roman frowned. “And… food?”

“Usually, on full moons, I can spare some cash for a meal,” Virgil said.

“And… any other day?”

Virgil shrugged. “Janus is hot and I’m sneaky.”

Roman blinked. He took a minute to process. “You steal it?”

Virgil looked like he was biting down on a smile. “You’d be surprised how many people will let things slip for a few minutes of conversation with a very distracting individual in suggestive clothes.”

Roman wrinkled his nose in distaste.

Virgil shook it off. “Janus thinks it’s hilarious. It’s good enough for me. We usually get a few good laughs and a stack of meals out of it.” He shrugged again, then smirked. “I guess we’ll have to be working double time if we’re going to get enough food for both of you as well.”

Roman jolted. “Oh, no, you don’t have to –”

Virgil hummed. “I’ll just leave you on the side of the curb to fend for yourself, then?”

Roman paused, shooting Virgil a doubtful look. Virgil caught his glance and rolled his eyes.

“What did you expect, idiot? That the moment we found your brother, I was going to leave you high and dry?”

Roman scoffed, amused despite himself. “Asshole.”

Virgil laughed. “We can get you food from somewhere that’s open twenty-four seven. I’m willing to bet you haven’t eaten in a while.”

Roman thought back. He’d fallen asleep for two days, woken up to Remus transforming, been arrested, had two panic attacks, and been taken in by a complete stranger. “It’s… been a few hours.”

“Just a few?” Virgil said, amused.

Roman folded his arms over his chest, pouting. “In my defence, I haven’t had much time to relax.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow, looking far too entertained. “Exactly. So that’s what you’re doing now.”

Roman paused. “What?”

Virgil shot him an exasperated look like Roman was being deliberately stupid. “I’ll get you something to eat, I’ll tell you what Janus and I have learned, and you can take a breather.”

Roman curled his legs up onto the seat, fidgeting with his hands. “You’d really do all this for a couple of nobodies?” He rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t there, but I’m willing to bet that Remus practically shoved his hand into Janus’ mouth himself.”

“Yeah, well, Jay can be pretty aggressive, wolf or not. It was probably a bit of both.” Roman huffed with a soft laugh. “Exhausting looking after a moron.”

“Absolutely.”

Roman didn’t pay attention to where Virgil took them, but he took the food Virgil bought him. Still, he only barely paid attention as he slowly munched on the wrap. Virgil was silent as he drove down the dark streets.

Roman quietly thanked Virgil when he finished, feeling slightly ill from his suddenly full stomach. Virgil hummed absentmindedly. He was rubbing his thumb against the steering wheel, looking deep in thought. Roman glanced over at him, not wanting to pressure him but trying to make it evident that he would listen to whatever Virgil had to say.

“Janus killed his alpha.”

Roman blanched. Of all the things he had been waiting for Virgil to say, that had not been it. Virgil bit his lip, looking embarrassed.

“It’s the dumb term used for the werewolf who turns another. Janus killed the werewolf who bit him because he was feral and malicious.” He noticed Roman’s uncertain look. “Janus isn’t like that. And neither is Remus.”

“You haven’t met my brother.”

“If he’s anything like you, I’m sure he’s nothing to worry about.”

They arrived in Diamond Harbour a few hours before sunset. Virgil parked off the side of the road, overlooking the bay surrounded by mountains. It was still and empty, the water barely rippling, a perfect mirror to the starry sky above.

“I’m guessing they didn’t give your phone back,” Virgil said.

Roman hesitated. “I forgot to grab it before I ran out.”

“What do you remember about any notes you took down?” Virgil asked, slipping out his phone and beginning to scroll through it.

Roman tried to remember everything he had noted down. Virgil nodded as he talked, making Roman think that he had at least got some things objectively correct.

When Roman finished, Virgil sat forward, kicking his feet onto his seat and shifting comfortably. He told Roman he was right about a lot of what he had recorded: ordinary wolves could eat around three kilograms of food a day – that was doubled for werewolves. They tended to get doubly aggressive and feral without food, which could lead to losing any remaining humanity they may have left if kept up for an extended period. It rarely ever happened, but that was what had happened to the wolf who had bitten Janus.

Virgil said that the closer it got to each full moon, the most primal animalistic the bitten individual would become. He’d seen Janus gaining a bigger appetite and getting rather protective over odd things like his next meal or his favourite jacket. More often than not though, Janus had gotten far more physically affectionate than usual.

Roman had scoffed at that. “Remus isn’t affectionate.”

“You’d be surprised,” Virgil had said with a knowing smile.

Werewolves were territorial, apparently, but not the way Roman had been thinking. Roman honestly didn’t believe much of Virgil's words about werewolves forming pack bonds. Roman didn’t want to be cliche, but Remus had to be as close to a ‘lone wolf’ as possible.

But he sat and listened and took in what Virgil told him. He was grateful Virgil would even tell him anything. At one point, he had jokingly brought up vampires, which Virgil had scoffed at.

By the time the sky was beginning to grow lighter with the steadily approaching dawn, Virgil had read out everything he had learned from his and Janus' past three years of coping.

Janus hated dog treats. He attacked anything that looked remotely threatening, including but not limited to leaves, rocks, and frogs. His behaviour depended on his emotional state in the weeks prior to the full moon. Sometimes he hated being stuck indoors, so Virgil would drive them to remote parks or forests for him to let loose in.

The pair of them had done well to (and Roman hated the word just as much as Virgil seemed to) ‘train’ Janus’ wolf to avoid people and not attack wildlife. He was nearly silent as a wolf, which Roman immediately envied. More often than not, Virgil said he tended to enjoy resting throughout the night, but he was always exhausted the next day.

Virgil had stressed how important the following day was and how sometimes Janus seemed particularly grouchy, whether he was hungry or tired or a little extra achy from the transformation.

He’d also recounted, albeit with a queasy expression, how the myth of silver hurting werewolves was steeped in truth. Anything, even the mere contact with anything silver, could cause a wolf severe pain and injury.

“They’re impervious to normal bullets,” Virgil said. “Their thick hide can’t be broken by regular guns or blades. Aside from that, they’re still remarkably similar to normal wolves on the inside. They can still get burned or poisoned.”

Roman thought back to the first full moon when Remus had stuck his nose under the bath water to blow bubbles purely for entertainment.

“Can they drown?” he asked, mostly joking, but Virgil answered with a severe frown.

“They can hold their breath for an insane amount of time if nothing is inhibiting them. I swear to god, I thought Janus had drowned swimming around in a lake once, but he popped up with, like, five fish in his gob.

“Falling is a little complicated; it depends on how high they fall from or what the ground is like. But I wouldn’t go testing it. If they encounter anything silver, you have to remove it quickly and cleanly. Once all traces are gone, their bodies will heal… but they’ll still be fragile and vulnerable for a bit.”

Virgil spoke as if he had first-hand experience, which Roman couldn’t even begin to imagine. Still, he listened with rapt attention, trying to memorise all of it despite Virgil's assurance that he didn’t have to worry about doing it alone.

The first rays of sunlight streamed over the horizon, spilling out onto the calm harbour. Virgil yawned. He opened the car door and climbed out, stretching.

Roman followed, shivering at the sudden biting cold air. He joined Virgil sitting on the bonnet of the car, watching the sunrise with a sleepy expression. Roman folded his arms, trying to adjust to the temperature change after leaving the car's warmly heated confines. The curved bay stretched out in front of them was beginning to brighten the calm, still water.

He timidly nudged the toe of his boot against the damp dirt.

“Hey, Virgil?” he asked, avoiding eye contact, but when Virgil didn’t answer, he forced his eyes up. Virgil was watching him patiently, and Roman distantly wondered what he had done to deserve such a godsend. “Thank you.”

Virgil looked away, a slight breeze flushing colour into his cheeks. He leaned over to kick Roman lightly in the side. “We’ve got your back.”

There was a distant laugh, and Roman’s senses were immediately on alert, but he forced himself not to jump. It wasn’t like he had forgotten that other people in the world existed, but perhaps the night had felt so long that Roman wasn’t prepared to go on pretending to be an average member of society.

Virgil didn’t seem as disturbed. He leaned back onto the car with a soft huff of a laugh. “Oh, would you look at that.”

Frowning, Roman followed his gaze.

Someone around their age was heading over to them, gloved hands slipped casually into his black dress pants pockets. The black jacket over his shoulders did not look warm enough, but he was barely shivering as he fixed Virgil with a dangerous smile.

Roman didn’t bolt or prepare to throw hands with the stranger only due to the impossible company he was keeping, whose cackling felt like it was echoing off the mountains on the other side of the harbour.

He was dressed in clothes that weren’t his, and he was filthy, and his hair was even wilder than usual, but Remus was grinning like it was any other day.

Unbidden, Roman’s feet carried him away from the car towards his brother.

“How the hell did you get here?” he shouted.

Remus’ attention was pulled from who Roman could only presume was Janus and narrowed his eyes in confusion.

“Walked?” he asked, stopping as Roman stumbled towards him.

“We’re at least three hundred kilometres away from Lake Tekapo!” Roman cried.

“And I’m a fucking werewolf,” countered Remus like Roman was stupid. “What’s your point?”

Roman leapt forward, curling his arms around Remus’ neck.

“I hate you,” he laughed.

Remus shoved him off. Virgil and Janus were murmuring behind him, their fingers subtly linked together.

“Glad you’re in one piece,” Roman breathed as sudden worries flooded his mind. “You’re not hurt, are you?” He fumbled about Remus, lifting up his arms and trying to work out if all the dirt was covering up any bullet holes the agents might have landed before he got away.

“I’m fine,” Remus grumbled, batting his hands back. “Get off me.”

“Sorry for being concerned,” Roman sniped back.

“You don’t need to be, dumbass,” Remus snapped, dodging around Roman and walking for Virgil and Janus. “Again, I’m a goddamn werewolf.”

“You’re not indestructible, Remus,” Roman said, recalling Virgil's words about silver bullets and feeling nauseous.

“Yeah, right,” Remus scoffed over his shoulder.

“Remus, seriously –” Roman started.

“Do you ever get sick of your own voice, Roman?” Remus threw over his shoulder with an eye roll.

Roman opened his mouth to protest, but Remus was already talking with Janus and Virgil. He closed his mouth, hurt.

Whatever. If Remus wanted to be an idiot about this, that wasn’t Roman’s problem.

Except it absolutely was his problem, Roman admitted to himself with a heavy sigh. Remus would get himself killed before long.

Roman woke up on the couch, which was far more comfortable than all the beds he’d been sleeping in the past month. He sat up, mind groggy and a slight headache building up in his temples. He looked out the huge living room windows, where the sun was setting over the distant lake.

With a jolt, he snatched up the phone from the coffee table. It was half-charged, and the date on the lock screen made his heart drop to his stomach.

As if on cue, something crashed in the bathroom behind him.

Roman shot to his feet and fled across the house, dizzy with anxiety.

Remus was keeled over against the counter, his face a sickly grey pallor and beads of sweat freckling his temples. Roman shot forward, his hands fluttering about his brother.

“Oh god, Remus –”

Remus shoved his hands from where they were trying to draw him back from the sink.

“It’s fine,” he snapped, his voice gravelly.

Roman flinched away. He glanced towards the door, wondering if it would be less stressful if he just left. His presence was clearly bothering Remus. What if Roman distracted him so much he collapsed and smashed his head against the counter? What if something went wrong? What if the first night of the full moon was just a dud, and Remus went crazy and…

Roman swallowed. “Do you want me to –”

“Don’t walk out that door,” Remus gasped as his knees gave out, sinking to the floor and grasping his head in his hands. Roman immediately crouched beside him.

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

Remus groaned, an inhuman whine building up behind his voice. He’d started to tremble so badly that he’d lost the battle with his own balance and thumped onto his side. He choked on a sob that sounded far too close to Roman’s name.

Fighting against every one of his instincts screaming at him to run, Roman reached out and squeezed his brother’s shoulder.

“Listen,” he said, keeping his voice surprisingly steady. He hoped it helped, at least in some way. “This will hurt like a bitch, but you won’t remember it.”

Remus looked up, and through the tears rolling down his cheeks, Roman knew he had heard him. Roman hoped the blunt honesty would have helped him focus.

“Just like last time, yeah?” he went on, rubbing Remus’ back. “It’ll be over soon, and it’ll all be okay.”

Remus looked like he was about to nod, but abruptly his body jerked, and Roman leapt back as he let out a wordless scream of agony that sounded too similar to a wolf’s howl.

Roman watched, curled into the corner of the room, as his brother’s bones snapped and his skin ripped apart, dark fur growing out to cover his four limbs and his elongated muzzle. A long, shaggy tail sprouted from the base of his spine. White teeth flashed in the low light, and a pair of fuzzy ears poked out from his skull.

It was just as horrifying as last time.

The now fully-formed wolf snarled, sitting back on his haunches and lapping at his jowls. Piercing green eyes scanned the room, taking everything in with startling intelligence. They pinned Roman curled in the corner of the room.

Roman, internally frustrated with himself, fought to quieten the instinctual fear rising in his throat.

Don’t be a hypocrite. That’s still your brother. He’s not a man-eating monster. He wouldn’t hurt you unless you ate his sandwich.

The wolf stood up and stalked over to him. Roman prayed that it was just the chill of the tiles that were making his hands shake. The wolf’s nose was cold as it cautiously pressed to Roman’s knuckles.

Roman cleared his throat quietly. “Rem…?”

The wolf opened his mouth, and Roman forced himself not to flinch when he began to gently teethe on Roman’s sleeve.

“Hi,” Roman said with a shaking, breathy laugh. The wolf nudged needily against his wrist, and Roman laughed again, reaching forward to run his hands through Remus’ thick fur. “I’m so damn proud of you.”

Remus pulled back and trotted out of the room with all the nonchalance and disinterest that Remus had ever had. Roman stood on shaking legs and followed him out to the kitchen, where he was pawing at the fridge and whining in frustration at the sudden lack of opposable thumbs.

Roman immediately wanted to kick himself. He shouldn’t have gone to sleep – he knew that Remus got hungry. Why hadn’t he bought groceries? Remus would be starving, and they had nothing –

Roman opened the fridge and was greeted with the shelves filled with food. He blinked.

Remus nosed him aside to grab the cooked chicken and drag it to the floor, immediately chowing down. Roman crossed his arms.

“You actually did your required reading, did you?” he said, amused.

Remus didn’t grace him with a response, and Roman left him alone with his food. He returned to the bathroom and grimaced at Remus’ ripped clothes. He must have been planning that he had more time, given Roman had still been passed out, and he had looked entirely unprepared when Roman had rushed in.

He looked up as Remus padded in. “Finished eating already?” The wolf sniffed at his ruined clothes, and his ears folded back. Roman reached up to scratch his fluffy head. “It’s okay. I… Well, I’m not sure I can fix it, but we can buy you some new clothes, okay?”

Remus snorted, looking unhappy, and he swept out of the room. Roman stayed out of his way but kept a careful eye on him as he patrolled around the house. He carefully added a few notes to his phone, studying the way Remus’ ears twitched as he listened around with his tail low.

Remus turned to the hallway towards the door, his lips curled back and a low growl rumbling from his throat. Roman frowned, walking up to him.

“Hey, you’re okay –” he started but was cut off by knocking at the front door. He froze, a wash of cold shivering over his skin.

Remus barked. Roman jumped with fright and whirled around. He cupped his hands around Remus’ snout to clamp it shut with a scowl.

“Shh!” he hissed. Remus struggled against him, growling. He jerked himself out of Roman’s grip and snapped at him. Roman flinched back from his bared teeth, but the hammering on the door pushed him to ignore how easily Remus could have bitten him.

Roman dug his fingers into the fur of Remus’ scruff and started to drag him to the closest bedroom. Remus squirmed against him, still barking at the front door.

“Stop it!” Roman hissed. “Just wait in the bedroom. I’ll let you out when –”

Remus yanked himself from Roman’s grip and bolted back into the living room. To Roman’s horror, the wolf crashed through the enormous windows with a deafening shatter.

“Remus!” he shouted. The wolf didn’t even slow down, pelting across the field and away from the house. Behind him, the front door slammed open, and Roman’s vision was obstructed by darkness. Pressure was applied to his wrists, pulling his arms back behind his back. Footsteps surrounded him, and someone pulled his arms painfully backwards.

“Don’t move,” they growled, “cooperate and you won’t get hurt.”

“What the fuck –” Roman started.

Gunshots rang out in front of him, and Roman stumbled backwards into the person arresting him. It took him a minute to realise he wasn’t the one they were shooting at.

“Don’t!” he cried, fighting against the restraints. His voice cracked against his scream. “Leave him alone!”

Something thumped against his head, and stars sparkled in Roman’s already-dark vision.

He was sure he didn’t pass out, but the world was blurry and far away as he was muscled around by the people who had invaded their night. He felt disconnected, unable to control his body as he felt himself being pushed and shoved about, his legs jelly and weak. He heard the cabin’s door closed distantly behind him.

Roman’s shin knocked painfully against something, and he listened as the sound of van doors slid open. Someone shoved him from behind, and new hands grabbed his shirt, heaving him onto rocky ground.

The doors closed, and a car engine started. Roman tried to stand, but a pair of rough hands wrangled him back against a hard seat. He tried to speak, but his throat felt too thick.

He didn’t realise he had passed out until he was manhandled back upright and forced outside the van.

“Walk straight and don’t talk,” someone snapped at him, their grip tight on his shoulder as he was roughly guided blind. Roman tried to keep himself from trembling as the cold from outside was washed away as they passed through doors. He was shoved around some sharp turns and bends before eventually being forced into a cold seat.

The blindfold or bag that had been over his head was ripped away, and Roman blinked against the sudden light surrounding him. He looked around and swallowed at what looked like a small interrogation room.

Someone in one of the most cliche of black suits Roman had ever seen walked through the room and sat down across the metal table. He barely glanced down at the thin folder in his hands.

“Roman Parata, correct?”

“Where am I?” asked Roman.

“That’s classified,” the man answered without hesitation.

Roman scoffed. “What, did you watch some FBI documentary before kidnapping me?”

The man met his gaze unwaveringly and held out a small passport-like book. Roman blinked at the FBI badge that glinted within it. He held his stupid mouth shut, even as the agent’s eyes sparkled with smug amusement that made Roman want to bury his boot between his legs.

“We’ve received reports that you and your brother fled police approximately a month ago,” the agent said, leaning forward. “Now, about Remus –”

“Leave him alone,” Roman hissed viciously.

The agent looked unimpressed. “If you cooperate, we will not have to hurt you.” Roman scowled as the agent clicked open his pen and casually glanced at the contents of his folder. “I need your detailed account of what happened a month ago.”

Roman stared back at him passively. The room was silent.

“We’re on your side here,” the agent said. “He forced you to flee from the police, didn’t he?”

“I did that myself,” Roman said, the fiery fury beginning to burn in his chest overriding the anxiety in his head, screaming at him to shut up shut up shut up!

But the agent was shaking his head.

“Not as far as we’re concerned,” he said, deceptively sure of himself. “He planned the whole thing. You can walk out of here with a free ride back to your hometown with a clean record.” He leaned forward, eyes dark. “Just. Cooperate.”

He said the word like it tasted like the way whisky felt when it went down. Roman couldn’t tell whether he got off on the authority he seemed to think he had over Roman. The agent didn’t look nearly as physically intimidating as the two security guards flanking him who were glowering down at Roman with dark, impassive expressions. Still, there was something in the agent’s rather unremarkable face that made something in the back of Roman’s mind itch uncomfortably.

Still, Roman’s scowl didn’t budge. “I’m not giving him up.”

The agent’s eyes narrowed, and Roman allowed himself a slight twinge of satisfaction at getting under his skin.

“If you don’t talk, we’ll find means of persuasion,” the asshole said, and behind him, the two guards shifted minutely. Enough of a subtle threat for even Roman’s stupid brain to understand. “We have a bigger organisation than you realise. We have dog teams searching this half of the Southern Island. We can make you talk. I suggest you start talking.”

Roman spat in the agent’s face.

It wasn’t nearly as satisfying or badass as the movies made it seem, as he mostly missed and then had to subtly wipe most of the spit from his chin with his shoulder, but he thought the effort wasn’t bad.

The agent cast the soiled table a disgusted look and leaned back into his seat. “I strongly encourage you to find something to say within the next five minutes.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Roman spat.

The agent sighed as if he was the tired one. “I really don’t want to get the higher-ups involved.”

Roman smiled bitterly.

“Oh, good,” he said, faux-cheerfully, “because neither do I! So why don’t you just let me go and forget me and my brother exist, and you’ll never have to hear from us again.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Awwe, why not? Scared of getting fired? Seriously, I have no problem getting out of your hair. I’ll just –”

Roman stood from his seat, having not realised before then that he hadn’t actually been tied down. Immediately, the two guards immediately moved, and Roman was staring down the barrels of two guns.

He froze and wished he had the guts to do anything other than listen when the agent calmly said, “Sit down.”

The guards holstered their guns as the agent pulled something out of a plastic bag. Roman blanched at the sight of his phone. When had –?

“‘Roughly one hundred kilograms,’” the agent read aloud, and Roman’s heart dropped. “Hungry all the time. Territorial. Teethes. Could become violent.” The agent put the phone face-down to the side and fixed Roman with a look that felt patronising. “Is this really the kind of monster you want to be protecting?”

“Those are out of context,” Roman tried to choke out. “And he’s not a fucking monster.” He glared at the three of them, fear replaced with the fire that had threatened to extinguish moments ago. “Where is my brother?”

The agent closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The guard on the right leaned down to him. “Boss, perhaps the boy….”

Roman hadn’t the slightest idea what they were alluding to, but the agent seemed to relent.

“It doesn’t seem like we’re getting anywhere this way,” he agreed, standing up. “Bring him in.” He jerked his head towards Roman. “I want this idiot out of here by morning.”

Roman bared his teeth at him as he walked briskly out of the room, tailed by the two guards. The door slammed shut with a bang.

Roman looked around the now empty room. There was a camera in the far corner. Unquestionably, the door was locked on the other side; if not, there would be people outside. He fidgeted with the cuffs still secured to his wrists, his shoulders and chest beginning to ache. Perhaps if he just tried to leave…

As he braced his feet against the ground to stand, the door slammed back open.

Roman flinched back in his seat, trying to appear casual before his brain caught up with what he was seeing. The breath wheezed out of his lungs. “What the hell are –”

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Logan said, rushing forward. He checked Roman over as if he was actually injured. Logan himself looked as prim and proper as ever. Tie perfectly in place with the rest of his pristine outfit. “What have you told them?”

Roman jerked away from Logan’s touch.

“I’ve told them fuck all,” he said, feeling hysterical. What on earth was Logan doing all the way out here? How long had he been dragged around by the FBI? Roman didn’t know how far away they were from Lake Tekapo, but surely Logan hadn’t driven all the way out here from Invercargill mere hours ago. Did Roman now have to look out for Logan and Remus? How was he going to find Remus and get himself and Logan out of whatever base they were trapped in?

But Logan was frowning that horrible, disapproving frown he used when Roman had groaned during their tutoring sessions.

“Roman, you need to cooperate with these people,” he said. “They’re just trying to help.”

Yep. There it was.

“Oh, sure,” Roman said scathingly, vitriol dripping from his voice. “I’ll do everything asked of me by the assholes who stalked me across the country, broke into our hotel, shot at my brother and kidnapped me!”

“Calm down,” Logan snapped, ducking down to him with some weird key and fiddling with his cuffs. “I’m just trying to help.”

The restraints fell away with a click, and he stood so suddenly that the chair crashed to the ground.

“Fuck off,” he snarled.

Logan held his hands up placatingly. “Roman, you need to trust me.”

“Why should I trust you?” Roman demands. “You sold me out.”

“I saved your life.”

Roman opened and closed his mouth, shocked beyond words. Logan seemed to take this as his opportunity to continue running his stupid mouth.

“That animal is dangerous –”

“That animal,” Roman hissed venomously, “is my brother.”

“And he would kill you the second he got the chance,” Logan countered.

Roman clenched his fists, fighting the urge to clock him in the face. “Where the hell is my brother, Logan?”

Logan sighed and shook his head as if Roman was being unreasonable.

“They haven’t caught him yet,” he said, and with those five words, Roman felt faint with relief. He leaned against the table, forcing oxygen into his lungs.

“They’re letting you go,” Logan continued, even though his words sounded distant to Roman’s ears. “I – I convinced them to let you go. Just… forget all about this, Ro. Go home.”

Roman snapped back to reality, turning on Logan. He opened his mouth, but the agent from earlier walked into the room, interrupting.

“Berrycloth. Your brother is asking for you.”

Logan winced, and suddenly Roman felt unsure about taking his anger on Logan.

“They have Patton?” he asked in a whisper as the agent left the room. “I thought he was in foster care.”

Logan refused to meet his gaze, all self-assurance vanishing. “He was taken out by the FBI a week ago. They’ve erased evidence that he was there in the first place.” Logan clenched the cuffs that had been restraining Roman between his white knuckles. “My hands are tied, Roman.” He nodded out the door. “The back door down the left of the hallway is unlocked. Go home.”

He walked out of the room without a backwards glance. After a moment, Roman peered out the open door. There were no guards. A few people walked past him, going to different parts of the hallway – ignoring him.

Needing no further encouragement, Roman fled down the hallway and burst out the first door he found.

Bitterly cold air greeted him, and he sucked it in desperately as he pelted down the dark street. The crisp breeze didn’t assuage the burning within his chest.

He stumbled to a stop in an alleyway and collapsed against the building, his legs feeling weightless.

Roman didn’t realise he’d fallen asleep until his head slammed into the passenger window with a painful thunk.

He jolted upright, disorientated. “What the hell…?”

“Wakey wakey, sleeping unsightly,” Remus said. He was leaning in the open door of the driver’s side, looking far too smug. Roman glared at him, rubbing his eyes.

“Where are we?” he grumbled, looking around at the dark surroundings.

“St Bathan’s,” Remus said with his own cracking yawn. Roman squinted. He was pretty sure he had just about every inch of his brother’s face memorized, having been stuck with him since birth. He didn’t remember Remus’ canine teeth always being that sharp. How was that for ironic?

Remus didn’t seem to catch Roman’s suspicious frown, stretching and looking out around at the dark town. “Figured it was up to your standards of boring and insignificant.”

Roman looked over his shoulder and wrinkled his nose at the sign. “Welcome to… ‘Ranfurly Holiday Park’? Motels, cabins, vans and camping? Doesn’t seem like your type of pick.”

“It was the best I could get for one night with no booking,” Remus said, pulling back. “Suck it up and get out.”

The room was tiny, with a pair of beds on one end, a small kitchen sink on the other, and a four-by-four-looking shower tucked into the corner with nothing but a curtain as a door. A portable heater barely any bigger than the kitchen sink was tucked into the corner.

Oh, this was going to suck.

“Still satisfied with your choice?” he asked, glancing at his side.

Remus shrugged, as unbothered as ever, and dumped his backpack on one bed and flopped down back-first on the other. “At least we’re not spending two-hundred bucks on a five-star hotel you would have picked.”

Roman grabbed one of the folded towels from the bed. “I’m having a shower.”

Remus laughed, shooting the curtained-off bathroom an eyebrow raise. “Have fun.”

Roman flipped him off.

The water was near-freezing, and while the small heater in the corner of the room was slowly warming up the tiny cabin, he was still shivering when he came out, re-dressed in his clothes and towelling at his dripping hair.

“I feel like I’m doing more reading for this than I ever did for required reading in school,” Remus said from where he was sprawled across the bed, scrolling on his phone.

“Find anything useful?” Roman asked, perching carefully on the other bed.

“Apart from the fact that the Greeks came up with this wack-ass concept?” Remus shrugged, chucking his phone to the side and stretching with an obnoxious yawn.

“We can’t keep running,” Roman murmured, turning the damp towel over in his hands. “We don’t have the money for it.”

“We still have that account our parents left us,” Remus pointed out.

“I don’t want it to get to that point,” Roman said.

“I’m sorry,” Remus said, propping himself up on one elbow to level Roman with a narrow-eyed look, “whose’s idea was it to run from the police and town-hop?”

Roman clenched the towel in his hands. “Look, I said I’m sorry. Are you going to accept it or keep nagging?”

“I’ll stop bringing it up when you stop moping over it,” Remus said, flopping back. “Relax. The whole thing about spontaneous decisions is that you don’t spend all your time overthinking it.”

Roman blinked his tired eyes. “Can you blame me for trying to be a bit cautious?”

Remus looked unimpressed.

Roman relented, leaning back and throwing his towel in a heap in the corner. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

“Here’s how I see it.” Remus sat up, kicking his legs. “We wait this out until next month. Learn as much as we can before the next full moon.”

“And then what?”

Remus shrugged. “Wing it.”

Roman stared at him.

“Wing it,” he echoed dubiously.

“Just like you did when you drove away from the house,” Remus said with a cutting smile. Roman dropped his gaze.

“Right.”

Remus seemed perfectly content to let the conversation end there, but Roman doubted he’d be able to get any more sleep than the measly hour and a half he’d had in the car.

“Okay, look.” Remus sat up, looking fed-up. “Did I try to attack you when I was a wolf?

“No,” Roman said.

“Was I freaky or flighty at all?”

“Not until Logan and I started arguing.”

Remus nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Then as long as we’re somewhere where no one’s going to see, and there’s no danger, it’ll be fine. We just take it as it comes.”

Roman mulled that over in his head. “Seems… fair.”

Remus nodded again. “Get some sleep.”

“Sleeping in the same room as your snoring? Yeah, right,” Roman muttered. He turned off the overhead light and tucked himself under the scratchy, thin covers.

In the morning, Roman shouted them breakfast at the Vulcan Hotel – which wasn’t actually a hotel, as they discovered, and had been converted into a bar and tourist attraction. The decor was mediocre, but it was Roman's best meal in a while. It certainly beat cheap Chinese takeouts, old leftovers or an empty stomach.

Earlier that day, they’d dyed Remus’ hair green, due to his whiny impatience. He hadn’t stopped playing with the green streaks since, beaming like he was twelve and it was Christmas.

“So,” Roman said, cupping his mug of coffee between his cold hands. “Where to now?”

Remus smirked, tossing the car keys across the table. “Lead on, O Great One.”

Roman frowned. He had already messed up Remus’ life – fleeing their home had not been his first mistake. Remus wouldn’t say it, but if Remus truly wanted to go home, he would. He slid the keys back to Remus.

“You know what?” Roman said, finishing his coffee. “You drive; I control the music.”

Remus barked with a laugh, standing up. “Works for me.”

Roman didn’t ask where Remus planned to go, and Remus didn’t tell him. For a while, Roman even tried not to pay attention to the streets Remus was taking or any road signs they passed. He feared that if Remus actually was heading home, he’d feel so much worse about the whole thing.

Snow caught his eye as they drove along the highway, and he sat up. “Where are we going?”

“Who knows?” Remus said with a shrug. “I just took the first exit to the highway I saw.”

“We’re not….” Roman cut himself off. “Are you okay?”

Remus shot him a perturbed look.

“Are you going to keep being weird about this?” he shot back.

Roman folded his arms. “I just feel like I’m far more worried about you now being part wolf than you are.”

“Hey, I’m not the one forcing myself into an anxious meltdown. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

“Did you just say ‘ain’t’?” Roman asked, disgusted.

“Shut up and pick a song before this silence drives me insane,” Remus complained. 

Roman huffed. Truthfully he hadn’t realised he hadn’t even attempted to fulfil his end of their trivial deal, his mind too full of worrisome thoughts. It felt like his head was wrapped in cotton, everything foggy and muffled around him. Still, he absentmindedly pressed the first song on his playlist and tucked his feet up on the seat. The window was near-freezing against his temple.

They had gone through at least three songs before Roman felt eyes burning the back of his neck.

“This is probably going to be a long drive,” Remus said after a while. “If you want to be useful, you can do some more research.”

“As if any of that will be useful.” Roman rolled his eyes but began scrolling through any websites he hadn’t already explored.

“Make a list,” Remus suggested. “Anything that seems like it could remotely help us, chuck it on. It’s better than nothing.”

Roman silently wondered if he should mentally take back what he said about Remus not caring about his new predicament.

By the time they were pulling into a drive-thru in Oamaru for coffee, Roman’s new list had a grand total of five dot points, the authenticity of which he had immense doubt. (He was seriously researching fucking werewolves. He couldn’t be blamed.)

- Transformations occur every month during the full moon

- Roughly the size of a caribou, probably around 100 kilograms

- Hungry (all the time) – ate all of the frozen meat in the freezer and still didn’t seem satisfied

- Placid enough

- (seemed to like head pats)

“Got anything good?” Remus asked as he pulled back onto the main street.

Roman hummed but didn’t respond.

Soon, the highway stretched out in front of them again; farmland and vast fields surrounding them. Roman secretly noted that Remus’ driving didn’t seem as frantic as it usually was – or like Roman’s had been two nights ago. It was weird to be in the car when Remus wasn’t dangerously tailgating or waiting until the last minute to overtake someone. Roman wasn’t complaining.

They passed a flock of sheep, which wasn’t something new, but suddenly Remus seemed far too interested. He perked up, his pupils dilating slightly.

Roman scrunched up his face and pulled out his phone.

- Keep him away from livestock.

They drove next to a railway, and Roman was distinctly glad that they didn’t pass a train. He didn’t trust Remus to be himself and try to race it or for the new feral part of his brother to straight up leap from the car and chase after it himself.

Eventually, the railway split from the highway and the road opened onto a bridge. They drove above a vast marsh, with mountains on the left horizon and a distant line of trees on the right. The water below them looked fresh and clear, but the dirty sand was covered in debris and branches.

“How much dead shit do you reckon is in there?” Remus asked.

“What, so you can roll around in it?” Roman scoffed. Remus brightened.

“Hey, good idea,” he said with a wide grin. He cackled at Roman’s look of disgust, and Roman realised he was messing with him.

“I hate you,” he grumbled, folding his arms over his chest and hunching down in the seat.

After they crossed the fifth river, they emerged into the industrial outskirts of a small town. Roman noticed a service station to the right and nudged Remus.

“Pull in there. We could do with some fuel.”

“And snacks,” Remus said with an agreeable nod.

There weren’t any places to buy snacks, to Remus’ distress, but Roman found them a source of early dinner with a couple of overpriced sandwiches and an extra cookie for Remus. Remus was practically quivering head to toe and drooling when he spotted their meal, but Roman slapped his mouth shut.

“Find us somewhere to stay for the night, and then you can eat,” he said with a frown. Remus groaned, long and loud, and skulked back to the car. “Also, I got you a coffee.”

Remus immediately perked up, goddamn stars almost in his eyes. “I would die for you.”

“Hurry up and drive,” Roman said with an eye-roll.

They found a one-night stay motel five minutes from the station. Roman was too keen to get out of the car to worry about how it looked – it was cheap and only for another night – but he regretted that the moment they walked into their Glenway Holiday Park motel room.

Oh, these keep getting better and better, Roman thought.

“Tiny bedroom,” he said, his shoulders slumping. “Why is it another tiny bedroom.”

“Hey, we’ve got a proper bathroom this time,” Remus said, elbowing Roman in the ribs.

Roman pushed past him to peer into the tiny portable fridge. “Thank god, because you still smell like wet dog.”

Remus ignored him in favour of peering out their tiny window above the kitchen. “And a view!”

Roman followed his gesturing. “A fence with someone’s caravan. Lovely.”

“And a pool,” Remus sang enticingly. Roman wrinkled his nose at the sight of at least half a dozen toddlers splashing around in the kidney-bean-shaped man-made puddle.

“How much pee do you reckon is in there?” Roman mused.

Remus grinned toothily. “Bucketloads.”

Roman grimaced. He tipped his coffee down the sink.

The next few weeks were filled with far too much money spent on fuel and cheap motels. Somehow, that was the least cause of Roman’s anxieties. Driving from town to town and searching for the next place they could stay for the night, even sometimes parking on the side of the road and spending the night in the car, helped to keep Roman’s mind off the encroaching full moon. He had lost more sleep than he would have ever liked to admit, his mind a swirling worrisome cluster of stress and apprehension.

As the end of the month neared, Roman felt like he was running on his last legs.

For the third night in a row, he was sitting in the back of the truck, wrapped in a blanket that wasn’t nearly warm enough and watching the sky slowly brighten with the dawn.

His phone was cold in his hands, his notes app now filled with everything and anything he could think of to be helpful.

- Possibly territorial

Remus had become incredibly protective over his food, which had was increasingly annoying the hungrier he got.

- Likes teething

Roman had lost count of the times he’d caught Remus chewing on things that definitely should not have been chewed on. Clothes, the rubber part of his belt, any small object he could fit in his mouth and even ones he couldn’t. Even the blanket Roman was currently huddled under had multiple bite marks across the seams.

- Could become violent without food

That one was purely speculative, but Roman had gone from searching about werewolves to generalised wolf pack dynamics. There was a specific hierarchy, but Roman wasn’t entirely sure how relevant that was with Remus being part of a one-wolf pack. Still, Roman wasn’t about to challenge any authority the wolf inside Remus thought it had. Between the two of them, the odds were immensely stacked against him.

The car shifted slightly beneath Roman, and he didn’t have to turn around to see Remus had woken up. The back door opened and closed, and Remus heaved himself onto the back of the truck next to him.

“Good morning,” Roman whispered, barely audible over the roaring of the semi-truck that came blaring down the road. Its passing wind rocked their car, parked on the side of the road across from the convenience store on the other side of the highway.

Remus was sorting through his wallet, counting out his last few notes.

“Can you buy me a pack of darts?” he asked in place of a greeting.

“Since when did you start smoking?” Roman asked.

“Since it’s the only thing that makes me relax,” Remus snapped, and Roman reactively shrunk back. Remus winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. Been on edge lately.”

“I’ve noticed,” Roman murmured, not unkindly. He reached over and stole the cash Remus was counting. He forced his aching legs straight and stood up, trying not to wobble on the uneven truck bed surface. Or perhaps that was the sleep deprivation.

“You can buy them yourself,” he said, waving the cash notes in his brother’s face, but he failed to muster up the snark in his voice. He sounded as hollow as he felt.

Remus didn’t mention it, which Roman appreciated as he clambered clumsily off the back of the car and crossed the dark road for the store. He wasn’t sure whose’s eye bags were darker between him and the cashier as he paid for Remus’ stupid cigarettes and a few snacks. He never thought he’d say it, but he missed having actual meals. 

Maybe this whole thing was some sort of hoax. Maybe Remus had coaxed both of them into taking some weird drug almost a month ago, and they had just hallucinated the whole thing. Maybe the next full moon would come and go without incident, and they could return home like nothing happened.

Maybe Roman’s exhaustion and delirium had caused him to become too optimistic.

“One more night to go,” Remus said when Roman returned.

“Is it that close already?” Roman whispered wearily as he crawled back into the passenger seat. He should probably have been the one driving, given Remus looked increasingly uncomfortable, like he was trying to squirm out of his own skin, but Remus had refused to let him even try touching the wheel.

This time, Roman made an effort to find accommodation that was separated from any other hotel, even if it was slightly over the budget they’d been sticking to. They needed somewhere safe to stay for at least the next two nights.

It looked like an actual house as they walked in and dumped their bags on the couches. Roman stalked around the house first, evaluating any dangers Remus could get himself into as a wolf.

He was in the middle of experimentally poking at a ground plant that looked far too spiky for his liking when Remus cornered him in the kitchen.

“What is it now?” Roman asked, too tired to argue.

“You’re not going to be any help if you pass out for the full moon,” Remus said with a scowl. “I don’t care if you drop to the ground right here. Just get some sleep somewhere, for christ’s sake.”

Roman blinked. “Are… are you mother henning me?”

Remus looked just as uncomfortable. “Yeah, I don’t like it either. Look, just pass out for forty-two hours, and I’ll wake you up with my screaming.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

Remus snatched Roman’s phone from his hand with a smirk. “I’ll read up on the brilliant essay you’ve been working on all month, and I’ll kick your ass up if you’re not up by the afternoon of the full moon.”

Roman hesitated. He considered arguing, but Remus had a look about him that told Roman he would make stupid noises over whatever Roman tried to say just to shut him up.

Whatever. If Remus thought he could handle it himself, Roman was too tired to argue.

Roman had spent the night in the corner Bavarian Motel, sleepless with sickening worry and an empty stomach. He had transferred Logan’s money back to him, disgusted at the notion of using his funds.

His phone was long since dead, left charging and forgotten on his house’s living room couch the second he had arrived home. Its search history was filled with websites, mostly with specific fanbase lore and all wildly unhelpful, surrounding werewolves.

They hadn’t left Roman feeling any better.

The house had been empty, but it was not unlike what he had left the night before. Shattered glass was sprayed across the front yard, and the window was left broken. The front door was slightly bent, and it creaked when Roman had opened it.

Roman had cleared up the glass and drawn the curtains, hoping it wouldn’t cause too much unwanted attention. He was mopping up the spilled water in the bathroom when the back door creaked open.

Anxiety spiked in Roman’s gut. He clenched the towel in his fists and edged into the living room.

Remus, looking confused, drained, and completely, utterly naked, stood in the doorway, looking around like his home was foreign to him.

Roman stared at him for a moment, trembling head to toe.

He pegged the towel across the room over his baffled brother and threw himself forward.

“You’re okay,” he cried, squeezing Remus around the shoulders. Remus didn’t hug him back, stumbling against the sudden weight. His anxiety returning tenfold, Roman pulled back. 

He searched Remus’ face. “Do you remember anything?”

Remus opened and closed his mouth wordlessly. “I remember… I don’t… I feel weird.”

Roman took a tentative step back. He gestured to the bathroom. “There are clothes in the hamper.”

Remus blinked and only then seemed to realise the towel was the only thing keeping him covered.

Roman chewed uneasily on his lip as he leaned against the kitchen counter and waited for Remus to return.

“How fucked up did I get last night?” Remus was rubbing his head, grimacing. Roman closed his eyes and didn’t answer. “Seriously, I didn’t think we had any liquor left after last weekend.”

“Do you remember the dog bite you had to get treated for at the hospital?” Roman asked.

“What, about a month ago? Obviously. That nurse was hot.” Remus paused with a frown. “Have I got rabies?”

“I looked up the transactions,” said Roman. “It was a month and a day ago to this date.”

“Okay,” Remus said slowly. “What does that have to do with me getting so piss-drunk I blacked out? It wouldn’t have been the first time, but I always remember at least the first drink. It usually has to do with me making a bet.”

“That cut on your arm,” Roman said. “From the barbed fence that you climbed over the other day?”

Remus looked more and more bewildered as Roman continued to talk, but he seemed content enough to humour him.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s getting infected; it started oozing yesterday. Hey, do you reckon I'll lose my arm if I don’t get it treated?”

“Where is it?” Roman asked.

Remus blinked. “What?”

Roman met his gaze steadily. “Where’s the cut, Remus?”

“You’re acting weirder than usual,” Remus said wearily, holding up his bare, clean arm. He waited for Roman to speak but seemed to realise after a moment that he wasn’t going to. A second later, he noticed the same thing Roman had: the extended, jagged cut had healed entirely.

“What the…?”

“Last night, I watched your bones break and your skin split,” Roman said, his voice blank of emotion. “How much do you bet on werewolves being real?”

Remus blinked spastically. “What the hell are you on about?”

“You tell me,” Roman said, unwilling to repeat the claims of a prank. “You wake up alone somewhere strange outside, none of your belongings on you and only covered in dirt? Finding your way back on nothing but a sudden heightened sense of smell and hearing?”

“Roman –”

“Your favourite jacket is in the bathroom torn to shreds,” Roman interjected. “Surely you would’ve seen it when you went in there. Along with the disgusting amount of brown wolf hair in the bathtub.”

Remus said nothing for a long time.

He moved over to the coffee table and picked up Roman’s phone.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m calling to see if Logan is in on this stupid joke,” grumbled Remus.

“Remus, don’t,” Roman said.

Remus wasn’t fast enough to pull the phone out of Roman’s reach as he snatched it back.

“No,” Roman said, backing up and shaking his head. “We can’t trust… We can’t talk to Logan about it right now, okay?”

Remus scowled. “Why not?”

“Last night, he didn’t… like… it,” Roman said haltingly. “He didn’t like everything that had happened last night. He’s already called me twice and texted me repeatedly to ask why I haven’t shown up to class. It’s just… I’m not sure about him, okay?”

Remus stalked forward, expression dark. Roman tried not to see the feral, dangerous look that had taken over his brother’s eyes the previous night.

“What the hell are you trying to pull?” Remus growled.

“I’m not pulling anything,” Roman countered.

Remus’ scowl deepened. “Bullshit.”

“It’s not,” Roman said, trying to back up but realising that he was pinned to the counter.

Stop it, part of his brain hissed. He’s not a wild animal. He won’t hurt you.

It overrode the fear, but Roman almost wished it hadn’t as he glared back at his brother. He’d seen that look before, and it didn’t feel any easier each time. He sighed, rubbing the side of his face.

“Please, Remus… Don’t turn it into one of these arguments again.”

Remus bared his teeth. “You’ve always been touchy about it.”

“I wouldn’t just make up some crazy story!” Roman protested. He pushed past Remus, a small part of him still vaguely surprised against his will that Remus didn’t lash out and kill him then.

“We have been dating for three years, and in those three years, all you’ve done is –”

“Nothing!” Roman yelled suddenly. “I have never done anything, Remus, because I love you, and I love him, and I wouldn’t get between you two like that!”

“In middle school –” Remus started.

“That was middle school,” Roman snapped vehemently, “when we were just stupid kids with dumb crushes who didn’t realise the consequences of our actions. The moment we matured, and it got serious, I never did anything to intentionally hurt either of you. I just…”

Roman collapsed back onto the couch, head in his hands. Remus glared over at him before turning and disappearing upstairs. Roman rubbed at his temples, trying to soothe away the oncoming headache.

Something was shoved into Roman’s face, and he jerked back.

Remus waved the sketchbook under his nose insistently. He was holding out a pen in the other hand.

“Draw it,” he ordered.

Roman felt like his brain was buffering. “What?”

“You’re saying this is legit? Draw what I looked like.” Remus dumped the pad and pen in Roman’s lap and crossed his arms. His foot began to tap impatiently. “Now.”

“I’m not your fucking dog,” Roman muttered.

Remus raised an eyebrow. Roman snatched up the sketchbook with a scowl. He began sketching out what he remembered of Roman’s wolf form and was surprised to find that he could recall several details.

The way Remus’ dappled brown fur was shaggy and thick, and how it felt like a cheap rug of a fake fox pelt. His wagging tail when Roman finally opened the bathroom door and his pink tongue lolling out between his long, white fangs. His eyes had been bright with something akin to joy, and the way that light had faded as Roman and Logan had begun to shout at each other.

Roman finished the last strokes of the wolf’s furry paws and listened to Remus’ complete silence. He glanced up. Remus’ eyes were as blown wide as the full moon. Roman handed the sketchbook out, which he slowly took with shaking hands.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, his voice laced with horror as he studied the artwork.

“Do you…” Roman trailed off.

“I remember – the mirror,” Remus choked out haltingly.

Roman couldn’t help but chuckle. “You barked at it for ten minutes.”

Remus matched his manic mirth. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, frazzled.

“I thought this huge fucking wolf had gotten into the house,” Remus said, his voice coming out in gasps. “I was wondering what audacity the fucking thing had to get in. But…” He slumped onto the couch in an almost identical move that Roman had taken minutes ago.

They sat in silence, mulling over the baffling and horrific situation now on their hands.

“So you…” Remus’ voice failed. He swallowed. “You called Logan.”

“I thought that if anyone could help, it’d be your boyfriend, but… you both freaked out.” Roman twisted the pen between his fingers. “I don’t know what happened.”

“I don’t even remember what the fuck I did,” Remus grumbled. “Do you reckon we’ll get an angry farmer pounding on our door, demanding to know if your fucking dog mauled his sheep?”

Roman clenched the pen so tightly in his grip he almost started to worry he’d snap it.

“So that dog bite,” Remus started. “It wasn’t a dog?”

“It couldn’t have been,” Roman whispered. The pen did snap then, spitting plastic onto the carpet and spilling ink onto his shaking, pale hands. He pressed his forehead to the back of his wrists. “I’m sorry.”

Remus didn’t respond to that. Instead, he leaned back against the couch, a classic Remus move of trying to act nonchalant.

“What the fuck do we do now?” he asked, his voice stubbornly steady.

Roman didn’t move. “What do you want to do?”

Remus hummed. He tilted his head. “Do you think I’m invincible now?”

Roman slowly raised his head to stare at his brother, appalled. Remus grinned toothily, and against his will Roman’s shoulders relaxed.

“Let’s try not to test it,” he mumbled.

“Maybe we should skip town for the day,” Remus suggested abruptly. Roman jerked in surprise.

“What?”

Remus shrugged as if he hadn’t heard him. “Or the week. Who knows?”

Roman grimaced down at his hands, now sticky with drying ink. “If that’s what you want.”

Remus squinted at him. “Are you going to agree to anything I say now because you’re going to blame yourself for this?”

Roman gritted his teeth and glared at him. Remus’ smirk widened like he knew he was right.

“Sure,” Roman muttered. “Why not?”

Remus laughed as if none of this had bothered him for a second. He bounced up from the couch and bounded upstairs. Roman let him go, staring numbly at the ground.

He found himself at the kitchen sink, scrubbing soap over his stained hands.

The sound of tires scratching onto pavement drew his eyes up. Through the gap in the curtain, he watched as two cars pulled on to park in his driveway. His heart dropped at the red and blue lights flickering on top of the roofs.

“Remus,” he called without tearing his gaze away.

“Do you think I should bring my vibrator?” Remus shouted down at him. For once, Roman didn’t even shudder in disgust.

“Get down here,” he said. “Now.”

Seemingly sensing the panic in his brother’s voice, Remus peered down from the balcony. His eyes reflected off the flashing police lights, and he blanched.

“Holy shit.” He descended the stairs two at a time, joining Roman’s side and watched as two cops emerged from their car and began to head for the front door. “Are we fugitives already?”

“Is your bag packed?” Roman breathed.

“It’s got all my deodorant and my empty wallet and flat phone,” said Remus.

“Get the car keys,” Roman said, moving away from the window and rushing to grab his phone and its charger. “Bring the car around from out back. I’ll meet you at the side window.”

Remus stared at him. “And here I thought you’d say it was probably just a welfare check.”

“Yeah, and if Logan called the check, what story do you think he told them?”

Remus’ eyebrows arched dubiously. “About werewolves?”

“Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been good,” Roman growled.

“Roman –”

“We don’t have time for this,” Roman hissed, shoving at Remus. “Stay at the bathroom window.”

Roman fled out the back door and threw open the garage door. Behind him, he heard knocking on the damaged front door and a deep voice calling out for them.

He pulled the truck up to the side of the house and barely stopped to let Remus chuck his bag into the front seat and clamber through the window.

“You know, usually I’m the one making stupid decisions, and you’re the one being strung along,” Remus said, adjusting himself in the seat.

Instead of humouring that response, Roman hit the gas. The car rolled over the grass and thumped off the curb onto the road. Roman pressed against the pedal and pelted the vehicle down the street without waiting a second.

“We’ve got shadows,” Remus mused, looking in the rearview mirror. The cars pulled out of the driveway at the other end of the street.

Roman spun around the corner, throwing Remus into the side of the window.

He gunned it down the streets of Waikiwi, ignoring how Remus scrambled at the grab handle in a death grip. Roman kept his eyes on the road and rearview mirror. His shoulders stopped riding up to his neck when they reached Highway One, the pursuing police cars long lost behind them.

Remus seemed to mirror his relief, sticking his head out the window and looking behind them. He laughed, even as Roman’s grip on the wheel tightened.

“Pull your head back in,” he snapped, reaching across to yank his brother back in by the shirt. Remus whirled on him, smile wide and feral.

“You’re fucking crazy.”

Roman fixed his gaze forward.

“I learned from you,” he muttered.

They drove for a good few hours, overtaking anyone doing anything under one-hundred-and-twenty. Remus had long since started to blast his playlist, and between the wind roaring from the windows and the ghastly songs, Roman was almost sure he was on the road to being deaf at twenty. He refused to move away from the steering wheel, not to turn the heat up or turn down Remus’ hideous music.

Roman slowed down as they passed the sign for Raes Junction and began approaching the tiny town of Ettrick. He yawned, his jaw aching and hadn’t realised he’d been clenching it so hard. Without consulting, Roman pulled off the highway into a gas station. He parked off to the side and leaned back from the wheel. The blinding light of the sunset shone into his eyes.

Remus had the common sense to finally pause his music. He sat sideways in the seat. “You really just did that.”

“Yeah,” Roman mumbled.

“You’re insane,” Remus said.

Roman stared out at the open green field. He sighed. “Yeah.”

Remus hummed. He leaned back against the door, his eyes roaming the distant round hills.

“Well,” he said, “this wasn’t what I meant when I said we should skip town…” he fixed Roman with a vicious smirk, “but I like your thinking.”

They got out of the car. Roman stretched his aching arms and legs and leaned back against the truck, wishing the warmth of the sun would melt away at his throbbing icy headache.

He had tried to apologise earlier, sitting in the sudden silence of the car. It had been an hour and a half since they fled from home. On the run from everything they knew, the things he had done caught up to Roman in a tidal wave of horror and guilt.

Remus had only scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“This is the most fun I’ve had in months,” he’d said, kicking Roman’s seat for good measure.

Remus stood on the other side of the car, eyes narrowed at their surroundings. Roman wondered if he was getting used to his new heightened sense of smell. It must have been a lot to take in.

“So are we going to talk about this?” Remus said, crossing his arms and dipping his hip against the bonnet. “Even if this wasn’t an elaborate hoax, we're still in a heap of shit.” He cocked his head. “Are you going to still get taxed for your uni courses?”

Roman sighed inwardly. “That’s the least of my worries right now.” He pulled back and gave the car a narrow-eyed once-over. “We need to get a new car.”

“Oh no,” Remus said with a laugh. He patted the roof of the car. “Do you know how much shit this bad boy has gotten me out of? And as much as you’re on a rebellious streak right now, I doubt you’re game enough to  actually steal someone’s car.”

Roman scowled. “Fine. Then you can do most of the work.” He shoved the car keys to Remus’ chest, snatched his phone out of his hands and stalked towards the store.

“Huh? For what?” Remus shouted after him. Roman didn’t answer.

He drained Remus’ money out in cash at the teller machine, knowing his code from too many nights saving his drunk ass from parties and assholes who coaxed him into betting more than he had on hand.

He paid fifty for fuel and a further thirty for a pair of spray paint cans that were way overpriced.

“Hey, check it out,” Remus said when Roman returned. He held up a box of hair dye. “I left this in the glovebox after I dared Logan to dye his hair. He took the blue one instead of the green.”

Roman chucked him one can of spray paint. “You can play New Identity later. Help me paint the car.”

In truth, Roman hadn’t paid attention to what colour he’d picked out but almost wished he would have considered Remus' preferences. The moron hadn’t stopped whining about it.

“Black?” Remus wailed for the fifth time, looking like it was physically hurting him to spray his car. “Out of  everything,  you turn my gorgeous vomit-green truck into a horrid  black?  Fucking  purple  would have been better!”

“It’s one of the most common car colours,” Roman said as he carefully sprayed over the back number plate. “Anyone searching for us will be looking for a hideous green pick-up truck with your number plate. This way, they –”

“‘Won’t suspect a thing’?” Remus said with an unimpressed eyebrow raise.

Roman glared at him petulantly. “It’s not foolproof.” He stood up and wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist. “But it’s better than nothing.”

Remus wiped his hands on his pants. “Well, if you’re quite done, I’d like to get my ass inside before it freezes off.”

Roman looked over at the now-darkening field. He didn’t realise night had approached so fast. How long had they driven for? How long had they spent giving the stupid car a makeover? He threw the near-empty can into the back seat. “Not here. We’ve already stayed too long.”

Remus groaned, throwing his head back. “We’re not wanted for  murder.”

“I’m not taking any chances!” Roman snapped at him.

Remus rolled his eyes. “Look, you’ve had your fun. Your poor little stunted emotional growth spurt came through in full with that running-from-the-cops move.  This,”  he gestured to the car and the sunset, “is stupid.”

“I never thought you’d be the one to question a little adventure,” Roman said, folding his arms over his chest.

Remus stalked forward and jabbed him in the sternum. “Either we do this my way, or I go back home and string  you  along with  me  this time.”

Roman sighed, dropping his arms and opening the driver’s door. “Let’s at least get out of this place. I doubt we’ll have any luck finding a place to stay here, anyway.”

Remus snatched the keys from the ground before Roman could pick them up.

“Hey–!”

“Listen, I’m all for dying in a fiery car crash,” said Remus, twirling the keys, “but I’d like to do that  after  Logan’s the last face I see, not  your stupid mug.” Roman wrinkled his nose. “I’m not too jazzed about you falling asleep at the wheel just yet.”

“Fine,” Roman grumbled, the exposure seemingly bringing back his exhaustion tenfold. He resigned himself to getting bullied into the passenger seat and braced himself for a long drive of yelling at Remus every time he made an illegal move (as if he hadn’t just been driving twenty kilometres over the speed limit mere hours ago).

The dark house was lit by only the dim light of a half-charged phone and the brightness crawling out beneath the bathroom door. A shaken voice echoed through the empty house, spoken into the receiver.

“Logan, hey. It’s me. I need a favour.”

Roman sat outside his bathroom, curled against the wall. The chill of the unheated house shivered through his skin, yet he made no move to get up. It was as if he hoped the cold would shake him out of shock.

“Yeah, I know it’s a school night.” He rolled his eyes, but the attempt at fooling himself into nonchalance failed. Behind him, the bathroom door shuddered on its hinges.

“Listen, I’m… not sure I’ll be able to make it to classes for a bit.” He was cupping his head in one hand, his eyes drooping with exhaustion and anxiety. “It’s hard to explain. I… it’s Remus.” Roman’s knuckles blemished white against his phone. “We’re in trouble, Specs. I don’t know what to do.”

He was quiet as he listened to the response, frowning at the floor between his socked feet. His eyes widened with sudden horror.

“No!” he cried but abruptly snapped his jaw shut with a wide-eyed look towards the bathroom door. It shook again.

“Sorry, sorry,” he murmured into the phone. “Just… Can you come over? Please? I need…” He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. His voice cracked. “I need some help.”

Not ten minutes later, headlights pulled up onto the house’s driveway. They were immediately switched off, leaving the car uncharacteristically carelessly parked. 

Logan Berrycloth, a twenty-year-old forensics student, atypically dishevelled and flustered, burst into the Parata household, wide-eyed and hyperventilating.

“Roman!” he cried, immediately stumbling in the dark house. Receiving no response, he fumbled his way through to the only source of light: the closed bathroom door. The worst possible scenarios and outcomes and any potential solutions running through his head, he burst through the door – and immediately staggered to a stop.

Roman was sitting on the bathroom floor with pools of water splashed over the tiles. He was utterly drenched from head to toe, his usually meticulously styled hair plastered to his forehead and his woollen nightshirt clinging to his body. He looked utterly put out.

Behind him, in a half-filled bathtub, was a great hulking shape that choked Logan’s scream.

The dog was so unnaturally large that it almost didn’t fit into the bathtub. Its dark brown fur was dripping with water. Its ears were pinned back against its skull, eyes glowing ferociously.

“What the hell is this,” Logan breathed, floundering back against the far wall.

“A wolf,” Roman said with a soft groan, far too calm. Logan had a million questions.

“Why is it wet?”

Roman looked like Logan had gotten him in trouble in class. “I gave him a bath.”

Logan gaped, horrified. How had this canine gotten into the house in the first place? Did it belong to the brothers? Where was Remus? Why was the dog looking at him as if it wanted to lunge at his face?

Roman seemed to take his startled silence for judgement, screwing his face up the same way he did whenever he was ready to pick a fight. “He was stinky, okay?”

Logan shook his head. This could be dealt with later. “Where is Remus?”

Roman huffed, a bitter smile crossing his face. “You’re looking at him, Specs.”

“That’s impossible.”

Roman stared at the floor tiles, head in his hands. “He was acting weird all day. Fever, eating like he had been starved for weeks – and you know how much he normally eats during the day. He actually snapped at me when I got too close at one point. I thought he was just sick, but… I heard him scream earlier tonight.” Roman’s fingers curled tightly into his hair. “I watched him… transform… into this.” His smile was brittle. “I wonder what the government thinks about werewolves.”

Logan clenched his fists to keep the tremble at bay. “This is absurd. Your pranks have long gotten old. Tell Remus to come out here now and return this poor dog to its owner.” He scowled. “And get yourself off the ground. You’re sopping wet.”

Roman huffed with a breathless laugh. He glanced at the wolf, who was licking its jowls. “Hey, Rem. He’s calling your bluff.”

The wolf yawned with a whine and shook itself, somehow turning its baleful gaze upon Logan on command as if it could understand English. Logan stuck his head into the living room, scowling at the dark, empty house.

“Remus!” he yelled up the stairs. “That’s enough! Come here!”

“Maybe calling you wasn’t the best idea,” Roman murmured wearily.

“This isn’t funny, Roman!” Logan snarled, whirling back towards him.

“It’s not a joke!” Roman snapped back.

“For once in your life, learn when enough is enough!”

“You need to learn when to listen to others,” Roman argued.

“For god’s sake, Roman –”

“You are so insufferable –”

“I will drag you outside myself –”

Abruptly, the wolf started barking, spittle dripping from its jaws. It stood, stepping out of the bathtub with ease, its hungry gaze fixated on Logan. Its barks almost rattled the door hinges. It certainly felt like they were rattling Logan’s ribcage.

As the wolf took a slow step forward, Logan realised only now that there was a pile of ripped clothes on the floor. Logan recognised Remus’ green jacket, one he hardly took off and whined like a baby when so much as a stain got on it. Logan didn’t think there would be a single force in the world that could ever encourage Remus to willingly tear up that damn jacket.

Logan took a step back, despising how his legs had begun to tremble.

The wolf had a mark – only a small one, but it was identical to the scar Remus had over his left eyebrow from when he was twelve and had face-planted off the school playground trying to tackle Roman.

Logan forced his voice not to shake. “Roman. Get over here.”

“Oh, believe me now, do you?”

“Roman –”

With a snarl, the wolf lunged.

Logan snatched Roman’s wrist and yanked him from the bathroom. He darted through the house and out the front door. He slammed it behind him, heedless of the wood shuddering, and vicious barking followed them all the way out to the driveway.

“Get in the car,” Logan snapped. Roman jerked away from him.

“What are you –?”

“Get in.” Logan shoved Roman into the passenger seat and flew in beside him, throwing the car in reverse and gunning it down the street. In the rearview mirror, Logan watched as one of the Parata’s windows exploded and the wolf leapt through the glass onto the front lawn. It took after them, running down the middle of the street relentlessly. It chased the car for a few blocks but trailed off after Logan made multiple turns at a highly illegal speed limit.

“What the hell, Logan?” Roman shouted.

“That’s not your brother anym– right now, okay?” Logan kept his gaze on the road. Rain pattered against the windshield. Roman was deathly silent. His eyes burned the side of Logan’s face.

“What were you going to say?” he whispered.

Logan sighed heavily. “This is insane.”

“I wouldn’t make this shit up, Logan,” Roman muttered darkly.

Logan’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “I –”

“You were going to say ‘anymore,’ weren’t you?” Roman interrupted with fire in his voice. “He is my brother, and no matter what he is or does, he will always be my brother, understand?”

Logan shook his head mutely. Anger flashed in Roman’s eyes.

“Stop the car.”

The car swerved with Logan’s surprise. “What?”

“Let me out.”

“Roman, I’m not going to –”

“Logan, if you don’t let me out of the car in the next five seconds, I’m calling the cops right the FUCK now.”

Logan blanched. Roman glared furiously at him from the passenger seat, his phone between his clenched knuckles.

The car pulled over to the side of the road, the yellow indicator light reflecting off the rain puddles on the asphalt.

Roman slammed the door behind him, inattentive to the rain beginning to patter against his hair and clothes. He stood with his back to the car, even as Logan rolled down the left front window.

“Roman,” he called, ducking his head to meet Roman’s baleful gaze as he glared over his shoulder. “Don’t go back to the house tonight. Please.”

Roman looked away. Logan glanced down the road. “There’s a motel just around the corner. I’ll… send you some money.”

Roman said nothing.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow,” Logan said carefully. “Okay?”