A heavy thud shook the door, so violent that the jars of dried herbs on your shelf rattled. It was already dark, and river fog was rolling past the windows, the kind that loved to creep toward the edge of town under the cover of night.
Your small cottage smelled of woodsmoke and the remains of a dinner you’d been trying to finish, but a nagging restlessness in your chest forced you to stand.
When you pulled the door open, you thought you were dreaming. Corazon was sprawled right across the threshold as if he’d been tossed there. He was breathing heavily, his coat shredded, and blood shimmered beneath the fabric. A jagged wound stood out on his chest, still bleeding freely.
"Rosinante!" you gasped before even thinking to look around.
The edge of town was desolate at this hour, people stayed safely tucked away inside. For days, there had been whispers of a beast roaming the outskirts. Whispers of people vanishing into thin air or returning home bloodied and half-dead.
You knelt beside him, immediately checking his vitals.
"You’re… here," he rasped, forcing a ghost of a smile.
"I am," you nodded.
To the rest of the town, Corazon was just an eccentric man with long legs, a wide grin, and a habit of doing things his own way. To some, he was a harmless klutz, to others, a suspicious stranger.
To you, he was everything you’d never dared to want. Your relationship was a secret kept in the quiet spaces when no one was watching, tender touches, shared silences, and those beautiful stolen moments at your cottage.
Setting your teeth, you hooked your arms under his and dragged him inside. He was heavier than you remembered, and the floorboards groaned as if protesting the burden you were bringing into your sanctuary.
Once the door was shut, you locked it and shoved a chair against the handle. You didn't know why, perhaps just for a fleeting sense of security.
You laid him on the sofa, it was far too short for him, his legs dangling over the edge. His coat was soaked, clinging to his skin. Carefully, you unbuttoned his shirt and let out a sharp breath when the wound was fully revealed.
It was deep, a mess of teeth marks that looked as though they were already trying to knit together at the edges. Yet, blood continued to seep out.
"What happened to you?" you whispered. Even if you hadn't believed the tall tales about the beast before, they felt terrifyingly real now. Corazon moved, his fingers trembling as they caught your sleeve.
"Caught me off guard…," he tried to chuckle, but it dissolved into a cough.
"You’re a fool," you breathed, your voice cracking. Anger and fear swirled so violently inside you that your eyes stung. "Where were you? Why did you go out alone?"
His eyes met yours for a moment. There was exhaustion there, but also a tenderness that pierced your chest like a needle.
"I had to," he whispered. "There was a little boy… in the alley. If I… if I hadn't pulled him out…" Of course. Corazon could never just stand by.
You didn't waste any more time. You grabbed a bowl of warm water, clean cloths, and pulled sachets of medicinal herbs from the shelf. You weren't a healer by trade, but you knew the basics. More importantly, you knew him. You knew his silent pleas, his stubborn silences, and the way he pretended pain didn't exist.
"This will sting," you said softly. As you washed the blood from his chest, he flinched.
"You… sting more," he mumbled with a hint of a smile, trying to make the moment feel ordinary.
"If you weren't in this state, I’d sting you to death," you tried to joke back, though your hands shook with the terror of losing him, the only person who brought light and laughter into your life like no one else.
How many nights had you spent like this, curled on the sofa or in the bed upstairs, hidden from the world? His coat on the floor, your laughter muffled by the pillow so no one would hear. How many times had you traced his scars with your fingers, as if you could rub them away?
You mixed the herbs into a paste, adding a bit of a silver-infused tincture that accelerated healing. When the paste touched the wound, Corazon jolted, hissing as if it burned. His fingers clamped around your wrist so tightly it hurt.
"Breathe," you said firmly.
"I am," he lied.
You let him hold your hand. It was better than the silence that would have otherwise fallen between you. But when you went to tie the bandage, he had to let go, grabbing a handful of your shirt instead.
As you tightened the knots, your mind raced through every theory, wondering if it really could be a werewolf, just as the townspeople speculated.
When you finished, you leaned against the table and closed your eyes. For a second, you allowed yourself to just be. To feel the fear pulsing in your throat.
"I don't… want you to be afraid," he was the first to speak.
"Well, you failed at that." You opened your eyes.
"Sorry," he smiled apologetically.
"Don't say sorry," you said, quieter than you intended. "Not now."
He would have stood up if he could. He always had the urge to fix everything, even when he was the one broken. You leaned over him, tucking a stray lock of hair from his forehead. It was damp with blood and sweat.
"You’re staying here," you decided. "You’re not going anywhere tonight."
"And tomorrow?" he whispered, as if to tease you.
"We’ll see about tomorrow," you replied.
You brought him water. He pushed himself up on his elbows to drink, but his hands shook immediately. You placed a palm on his forehead. He was burning up.
"You have a fever," you said, your stomach knotting.
"Maybe… just… stress," he tried to joke.
"I highly doubt that," you snapped, but instantly regretted how harsh it sounded. You swallowed and moved closer. "You need to sleep."
"If I sleep," he drifted, "and I wake up… different…" The words hung in the air like a dark spiderweb.
"No," you said quickly, too quickly. "No. You won't be different."
Corazon looked at you as if searching for the truth in your voice. You decided right then to give it to him, even if you had to make it up.
"You’re my Rosinante," you continued softly. "The man who laughs when he should scream. The one who saves a stranger's child even if it breaks his ribs. The one who…" your voice broke and you took a breath to keep from crying, "who came to see me in secret because he was afraid the world would hurt me."
His fingers moved again, gently this time. He touched your hand on his forehead, as if confirming you were real.
"You are the home," he exhaled. "The place… where no one sees me… except you."
His words moved you deeply. You leaned down and kissed his forehead. Softly, almost timidly.
"Will you stay… with me?" Corazon closed his eyes.
"Yes," you answered without hesitation. "I'll stay."
You sat beside him on the floor, leaning against the sofa, letting his hand slide into yours. His fingers were scorching but firm. Outside, the fog thickened, and somewhere in the distance, a dog howled, or something that sounded like a dog or a wolf.
You held your breath and listened. The silence at the edge of town was different from the noise of the center. Here, the sounds were closer to nature, wilder. Every rustle of leaves sounded like a warning.
And then you heard it, a muffled scratch, like something dragging across the wooden fence.
Your body went rigid. You looked toward the window. The curtain fluttered slightly, though there was no draft inside.
"It’s… here," he whispered. Corazon opened his eyes. Despite the fever, a flash of recognition sparked in his gaze.
"Who?" you breathed, though you already knew the answer.
"The one who bit me." His lips tightened.
Your heart pounded in your throat. Instinct screamed at you to run, to hide, to lock yourself in the cellar. But then you looked at Corazon, at the bandage on his chest, the blood on your hands, his fingers intertwined with yours and you knew you weren't going anywhere.
"I won't leave you," you said with sudden resolve.
You stood up and, without a word, moved to the fireplace and grabbed the iron poker. It wasn't a sword or a magic weapon, just a piece of metal. Yet, in that moment, it felt like your best hope.
From outside came a deep growl. Not human. Not animal. Something in between.
The fog pressed against the windows like fingers. For a split second, a silhouette flickered in the glass, tall, hunched, with long arms. Then it vanished, as if mocking your fear.
This time, there was a loud crack as something heavy slammed against the side of the house. The wood groaned, and dust drifted down from the beams. You gripped the poker tighter and stepped between the window and the sofa, trying to make your own body a barrier.
"Don't go closer…," Corazon rasped.
But it was too late. The window glass exploded inward. Shards flew across the room, and something massive hit the floor with a heavy thud. The beast straightened up, taller than any man, its body covered in dark fur, its eyes yellow and hungry. Blood dripped from its maw.
It snarled. You stepped forward before you could talk yourself out of it.
"Leave him alone!" you screamed, swinging the poker.
It was a desperate move. The metal struck the monster’s shoulder, but it barely flinched. With one swipe, it tossed you aside. You hit the wall hard, the breath knocked out of your lungs, and the world blurred for a moment.
You heard a cry. Not yours. His. Corazon contorted on the sofa, his fingers digging into the upholstery. The bandage on his chest began to soak through with fresh blood, and then something changed.
His body tensed unnaturally, bones snapped and crunched as if breaking and reforming. The fever turned into a searing heat.
"Rosinante…?" you whispered. An agonizing sound tore from his throat, half-scream, half-howl. The beast turned toward him, its growl deepening.
Corazon rose from the sofa… but he was no longer just a man. His frame elongated, his shoulders broadened, his fingers twisted into claws. Fur erupted through his skin, dark and shimmering. When he turned, his eyes glowed with the same predatory light as the monster by the window.
Two werewolves. The air between them was thick with lethal tension. And then, they lunged.
The impact shook the entire house. The wall by the fireplace cracked as one of them slammed into it. Claws flashed, teeth snapped, and blood splattered the floor and your clothes as you tried to crawl away.
But you didn't stop. Your eyes fell on the bowl of leftover paste. Silver. Your heart hammered as you dipped the tip of the poker into the thick mixture.
"Corazon!" you screamed desperately. "Listen to me!"
For a heartbeat, just a fraction of a second, his head turned. His eyes met yours. And you didn't see a monster.
You saw him. The man who brought you wildflowers, who could make you laugh, and who was always there for you.
"I have a plan," you said, your voice trembling, gesturing slightly with the poker. He hesitated, but it was enough.
The other beast lunged at his back, but Corazon spun and caught it. This time, he was faster. Stronger. More ferocious.
You seized the moment and drove the poker into the monster's flank. It let out a piercing, terrifying howl. The silver worked.
The beast began to thrash and retreat, its body convulsing as if it were falling apart from the inside. Corazon pinned it, his teeth tearing into its throat, and with one last guttural cry, the body slumped to the floor.
Silence. Only your ragged breath and the crackle of the fire remained.
Corazon turned toward you. He was still a werewolf, fur, claws, fangs. Blood stained his muzzle. You took a step toward him, and he took a step back.
"I know it’s you," you said softly. "I recognize you."
He stopped. Slowly, he lowered his head. He approached cautiously, as if afraid he would terrify you.
His forehead touched yours. You closed your eyes and finally exhaled in pure exhaustion.
As he began to shift back, you caught him before he could fall. Naked, spent, human once more. His breath was weak, but steady.
"Did we… win?" he mumbled. You smiled through your tears and pulled him close.
