“Gregor doesn't know you’re here?”

Dad paced back and forth, his eyes trained on the carpet. Jupiter played quietly next to my chair, distracted with a little toy wolf. She was three, and had grown adept at tuning out the arguments and serious conversations of adults. Our life back in Elclaw, with her father, Gregor, made that an easy task.

“No,” I said. “I just took Jupiter and left. I’d had enough.”

“Oh,” Dad said, pushing his gray hair back. I could see what was going through his head—he was trying to think up of a way to make this “right,” to apologize to Gregor and send me and my daughter back to Elclaw. Dad was just like that. He wasn’t a bad person in any sense, but his mind was always on the status of our family name and whether or not it was in “appropriate standing” or not. Our family got prestige from being married in to the Houndfangs and their Silver Sun Clan, so me walking out on my cheating bastard of a husband was a problem for Dad.

“It’s not too late to make all this right,” Dad continued. He was just talking to himself at this point, giving himself reassurances. “Yes. You can call home and say that… that I was sick. You came home to visit me.”

“Hounds of Hell, Dad. Are you serious?”

“Of course I’m serious, Perichor. And you should be too. This is your family’s name you’re dealing with. If word gets around that you’ve walked out, that you two are having problems… The gossip will be extraordinary, and I don’t know what I’ll be able to do for you then.”

“I don’t give a damn about any gossip. I’m not going back, Dad. Not to a man who’s been bringing women and omegas into our bedroom for years. I never wanted this marriage, but I gave it a fair shot. He had so many chances, and blew every single one of them. Force me out of the house, or out of the family if you want. I’m not going back.”

Dad looked hurt. He leaned against the couch and rubbed his forehead. “I know the situation is less than desirable, Perichor… But we’re highborn. You and Gregor are bound under the seal of the high wolf clans. You can’t just leave. You have to go back.”

“The longer I stay there with him, the faster my soul deteriorates. I’ll have nothing left. I’m withering away, Dad. And our daughter, she’ll be affected too. She already is.”

It wasn’t just the infidelity. Gregor could be an angry, hateful man, especially when it came to interrupting his lifestyle. He’d never lifted a hand against me or Jupiter, but he struck with his words and voice. The shouting matches were so frequent and intense that many of our house staff had quit. I wish I could say that he was at least a good father, but he hardly had a care to participate in our daughter’s life. The Houndfangs were the wealthiest family in Elclaw, and Gregor basked in that lifestyle. Extravagant parties. Competitive wolf-cycle racing. Traveling for “business”. And of course, all the temptation that came with those things.

I guess I had to say that the cheating didn’t bother me so much. I might’ve thought I’d loved him for a brief period when Jupiter was born, but now there was nothing. It was the disrespect, and the example he was setting for our daughter. The irresponsibility, the lack of character. And I was bitter that I’d been forced to sacrifice my life in Wolfheart to be with him, to waste so many years of my youth suffering. There were times when I wished he would change, and that maybe at least we could have a calm life together. I didn't need to love him, but at least we could have that. Of course, that wasn’t possible. That wasn’t who he was. But more than anything, I wished I could just be done with him.

“You’re here now,” Dad said, his expression softening. “So what else can we do? You and Jupiter will stay here for as long as possible. But eventually, you will have to go back. I’m sorry, son. I wish there was something we could do, but you and Jupiter will be better off there than living in exile. I know you know this. So please, think about that.”

He was right. That was the worst part of it.

The door to the living room opened and my brother Dimitrius came in, towel draped around his neck. He was a first year at the Dawn Academy’s Fighting Arts School, and must’ve just gotten back from classes.

“Hey,” he said to us, and then crouched down next to Jupiter. “How’s my niece doing, huh? You having fun, there?”

Jupiter looked up at him, smiled, and continued to play with her wolf. She was a quiet girl and didn’t like to talk much to other people, except me.

“Everything good, Perry?” Dimitrius asked.

I smiled, not wanting to burden my brother. “Everything’s fine.”

“You sure? You want me to beat Gregor up for you? Because I will.” He threw out several rapid jabs and a kick.

“I’m pretty sure the FAS wouldn’t appreciate that type of behavior from one of their students,” I said. “But thanks. I wish it were that easy.”

“If you want me to babysit Jupiter for you, just let me know. It’s been a while since you’ve been back home. You should have some time to check the city out.”

“I’m not really here for sightseeing, Dimitrius.”

“I know. But you’ve been through a lot. You should have some time to yourself. Right, Dad?”

“Uh, sure. Of course.”

Dimitrius rolled his eyes. I knew he didn’t respect our father.

“Go,” he urged. “I know you want to get out and check things out. It’s alright.”

“Fine, fine,” I said. He was right, anyway. Waiting around at home would just drive me crazy. I was in limbo here.

I went upstairs to my old bedroom, which had long ago been converted into a study, and changed my clothes from my suitcase. Next to it was Jupiter’s miniature pink suitcase. I felt terrible. I wished I didn’t have to be here. I wished I didn’t have to run. I hated that Jupiter had to be put through all this, and I hated that my father wasn’t more helpful. I knew he was right, his hands were tied, but I wished he could’ve at least been more supportive and understanding. If Mom were still alive, it would’ve been the same way. She’d been the one to set up the damn arrangement with the Houndfangs, and all because she felt our family was “too poor.” Not enough status, not enough money.

It was the first time I was back in Wolfheart on my own in over ten years. Where would I go? One place immediately came to mind.

The White Tree Wolf-Cycle Track brought me mixed feelings. Watching the races had been a great passion when I was younger, but my love for the sport had been tainted because of my husband’s participation in it. Still, it was where I ended up going, almost automatically.

It was open race day, with amateurs and semi-pros taking to the track to practice their runs. The huge stadium was only half-filled, but still bursting with excited energy. It’d been ages since I’d been to a race, and my heart immediately began to pound as the familiar smell of gasoline hit my nose, followed by the ghoulish whine of wolf-bike engines. It was impossible not to get swept up in the atmosphere, in the excitement of it all. It didn't hurt that White Tree was the largest, the most complicated, and the most dangerous track in the world.

When I was just getting to know Gregor, I’d clung to his aptitude for bike racing as the one possible saving grace, the one piece of connection that I thought we might’ve been able to share. He’d ruined that too.

With plenty of seats available I was able to find a good position overlooking the track, with clear views of the major obstacles. There was the Dog’s Eye, a series of narrow vertical loops rising a hundred feet in the air; The Walls, a section of parallel walls that required a high level of speed to maintain traction; and the most dangerous, The Forest—a section after the final straightaway filled with scattered concrete pylons that the riders needed to weave around at breakneck speed.

I’d arrived in the middle of a race. Different views of the tracker were projected onto giant screens hanging above the stands, overlaid with information about the different competitors. The crowd roared as the bikes exploded past the stands into the first straightaway of the final lap. Two were neck and neck, with another two not far behind.

Hounds of Hell, they’re fast.

Having not seen a race in so long, I’d forgotten what it was like to see such speed. It was invigorating, like nothing else. They seemed to be constantly on the verge of being out of control, like they could pull apart or collide into the obstacles at any moment, and every time they seemed just on the edge of disaster, they avoided it. And the sound! The sound of the bikes was like the shrill howl of a banshee wolf, underlined with a deep pulsing vibrato that shook your very core.

It’d been such a long time, but I was remembering everything. I was actually enjoying myself, for once.

The two leaders zipped into the Dog’s Eye, skirting the narrow loops with dizzying precision. The crowd gasped—me included—when one of the tail bikes lost the path and shot off loop, launching into the air like a missile. It soared high and then exploded as the inner control pod jettisoned from the main body and floated back down to the ground with the aid of two parachutes. Smoke drifted from the downed pod as rescue teams rushed out to aid the driver.

The leaders exited the Dog’s Eye unscathed, pushing into a series of hairpin turns that crisscrossed up a steep hill. I was on the edge of my seat now, my pulse racing as fast as the wolf-cycles on the track. The first bike carved ahead, pulling away just slightly from the second rider. An “oooh” rose up from the crowd. The bikes hurtled onto ramps that split the trick into a Y fork, curving upward so that they were vertical. It was The Walls. They pushed their speed to maintain their climb and ride. The second bike faltered a bit, and for a second it looked as if he was going to lose that critical level of speed needed to keep the bike stuck on the wall, but suddenly, just at the last minute, he corrected. The third bike didn’t miss his chance to take advantage of the mistake. He zipped around number two, taking second place. This guy was good! I realized I was biting my lip out of nervous excitement, a habit I’d forgotten I once had.

They were out of The Walls and into the final straightaway. I rose to my feet along with the rest of the crowd—the most dangerous section was just ahead. The new second bike managed to close the distance between him and the leader, bringing them neck and neck. I found myself rooting for this guy, whoever he was. He was a clear underdog, and a damn good rider. His bike shot forward like a steel blue laser next to the leader’s crimson streak. The straightaway opened up into a field of a thick, concrete pylons that increased in number as they neared the finish line. Many of the pylons were charred and blackened from crashes. The riders split away from each other, each looking for their own path through The Forest. There was no room to slow down. Any decrease in speed to avoid a pylon would inevitably mean a loss—or a crash. This was on the edge riding at its most intense.

The red bike zipped a line through the pylons, avoiding them with exact precision. Blue was the same. They were on opposite sides of the field, but it was easy to see they were still neck and neck. The finish line was closing in fast. Would the victory come down to inches?

The crowd was silent in anticipation now, the stadium filled only with the whine of the engines. Blue had a slight advantage… Or was it red? It was impossible to tell.

I cringed as blue came close to clipping a pylon, swerving around it, its back tire giving off a puff of white smoke. Shit. Had he just screwed himself over?

Wait…

Blue was taking what seemed to be a clear path through the pylons, the best way to go at what seemed like the fastest speed—until he increased his speed. They were taking their bike mere inches away from each pylon, hardly turning to avoid them. I felt goosebumps prickle my skin as my heart skipped a beat. I’d seen this driving before. No, more than that, I’d been intimate with this technique. I’d only known one driver who’d made it their signature.

“Fuck yeah!” someone shouted. “Go, Luna!”

My mouth dropped open. No way. Could it really be him? But did I really need to ask that? Who else could it be? Who else was named Luna who drove like that in The Forest on the final lap of the race? I’d only known one.

Arthur Luna.

My legs felt weak, and my body tingled with excitement, but this time it wasn’t from the race. I hadn’t thought about Arthur for years. I hadn’t even heard his name in years.

I was still in disbelief that blue bike down there could really belong to Arthur Luna, but there really was no one else it could be. The Lunas were a prominent family in Wolfheart. Not just anyone had that last name, and Arthur had been the only one of his four brothers to race wolf-cycles.

The crowd around me erupted into a roar. He’d won the race, but I was barely even paying attention anymore. I stood transfixed, watching as the blue bike curved around the track. All I wanted to see was who would emerge from the bike, but because it was just an open race day and not an official event, the bike drove along to the pit and disappeared into the underground bays. A new set of bikes immediately rode out, and the next races began. Someone behind me cleared their throat, and I realized that the rest of the crowd had resumed their seats, leaving me the only one standing like an idiot. I quickly sat down, my heart still pounding in my chest.

How strange was it that someone who’d once been so important to me had all but completely left my mind? Maybe it’d been the trauma of our separation that’d forced me to sacrifice my memories of him. If I traced things back, that time had been the start of this life I was now living…

Arthur and I had met in pre-academy, at the Delson Preparatory School for Young Wolves. We spent three years together there—two years and eleven months as the closest friends, and one month as something much more.

I got up from my seat and left the stands, going down into the auditorium where I knew of a secret maintenance route that would take me down into the bike staging area. I needed to see if it really was him.

The marriage to Gregor Houndfang had been arranged years before Arthur and I had met. I’d never had a say in the matter, nor had I really questioned or objected to it. I’d grown up knowing that I would marry into the Houndfang family, believing that it was for the good of my family. I’d gone through most of my young life committed to that duty, not concerned about love—I was already engaged, and I believed I would never fall in love with anyone, anyway.

I found the maintenance route and slipped down it. I straightened my shirt and walked with purpose, passing by a group of mechanics who didn’t even give me a second glance. My pulse was racing now, soaring as fast as the pulse of pistons in a wolf-cycle’s engine. I felt almost dizzy with excitement. What would I do if it was him? What would I say? So many things were rushing through my mind.

Would he want to see me? Would he be happy to see my face again?

His face… Even though it’d been so many years, I could still picture him in my mind perfectly.

Long forgotten feelings were starting to bubble up as the memories of our time together returned to me, and longing cinched tightly around my heart. It hurt. I remembered how close we used to be, how Arthur had been the first person in my life I’d felt truly understood me. No, the only person. I’d never known you could feel such comfort to be around another person until I’d met him. Everything was coming back to me now as I rushed down that hallway.

I pushed through the doors marked “Authorized Access Only” and emerged in the bike staging area. Crews worked on bikes, filling the air with the echoing sound of ratchet guns and tuning rods and the pungent smell of gasoline and hot rubber. I made my way down the rows of bikes and their crews, looking for that bike, the blue one, and the face of the wolf who was emerging from the depths of my memories.

I remembered when he’d confessed his feelings to me. It was a month before our graduation. A month before I was to leave for Elclaw. A month before I was going to be married. I remembered the confusion and anguish I’d felt—if only he’d told me sooner, if only we’d had more time together, if only my family had been in a better position, if only I didn't have to be married to a man I didn’t love. I’d fallen for my best friend. I loved Arthur. I’d pushed him so completely out of my memories because of this feeling. This aching. It’d hurt too damn much leaving him. It’d been like a deep and agonizing wound, and the mind does what it can to prune away memories too painful to live with.

I froze in my tracks when I saw the blue bike ahead. It’d just pulled into its space, shimmering waves of heat still rippling from its cobalt surface. Three pit crew members approached it, spraying it with water to cool its surface. There was a hiss as the compartment door latch released and pushed open, and the door swung around to the top of the bike, revealing the inner cockpit. Then I saw him. He stepped out, his black fur shimmering with droplets of water caught from the spray, and he shook them off before shifting back to human form. My heart caught in my throat as his fur pulled back to skin and his paws became hands and feet. His muzzle shrunk, and his wolf visage turned to the handsome features of the man from my memories.

Hounds of Hell, he looked good. Time had brought ruggedness to his features, a hard maturity he didn’t have before.

My curiosity was confirmed, and I should’ve just nipped it in the bud right there. Going any further from here would be a mistake. Nothing good could come out of it. But controlling impulses was never a strength of mine. If it had been, Arthur and I never would’ve become lovers in the first place.

Two women approached him excitedly—apparently, I wasn’t the only one who knew how to access this place—and they talked to him with stars in their eyes. I picked up my courage and strode forward. The way he spoke to the women, I could see he was used to this kind of attention. That shouldn’t have been surprising given his status, his looks, and the fact that he had become a very skilled rider, but I remembered how shy he used to be when I knew him. Obviously, time had brought changes for the both of us.

He caught me approaching out of the corner of his eye and turned to greet me with a cordial smile on his face, like he was greeting another fan. I saw the flash of recognition in his eyes, and he took a step backwards like he’d been punched in the gut. The smile disappeared and was replaced by a look of shock. We stood, just staring at each other. The women continued to try and speak to him, but he wasn’t listening. They looked back and forth between us, and then left, looking annoyed.

“Hi, Arthur,” I said. “Long time no see.”

“Perry…?”

Despite all the aching memories that had resurfaced, I had to smile. I was happy to see him. Really happy.

“Hounds of Hell. It’s really you,” he said. It sounded like he was talking to himself, like he was convincing himself that this was real. I understood. It didn’t feel real. Thirteen years, and I’d never thought I’d see him again. But here he was. Here we were.

“It’s me,” I said, matter-of-factly. I realized I was trembling. He stared at me, and I thought I saw a flash of pain in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “How’d you know I would be here?”

“I just came to see the track. I didn’t know you’d be here. You raced well out there. You’ve improved a lot since I last saw you.”

Finally, his expression softened. A slight smile crept across his lips. “I’ve had a long time to practice.”

“This is your bike?” I said, gesturing to it. “GX57 ‘Howl’. You always liked the aggressive styles.”

Next to a man, a wolf-cycle stood almost head height, its body about as long as a mid-sized car. It had a stretched, jet-like cockpit window and a tapered end. Arthur’s bike was angular, with sharp edges for aerodynamics. Looking at it, it gave the impression of a wolf leaping at its prey. Arthur laid his hand against its side.

“You still know your shit,” he said, looking impressed. “I’ve been driving this one for the past four years. Killer performance. Amazing responsiveness.”

“I heard they really worked out the kinks in the 56 model,” I said. “What a delicious piece of machinery.” I went over to it and peered into the ventilation gap along the side that revealed a portion of the engine. Arthur leaned in too, his face close to mine. He pointed at the reflex valves running along the side of the engine.

“Damn right, they did. Increased shift synchronicity and a higher fuel flow-off. Three hundred fifty times.”

“Incredible. No wonder you were able to pull off such precise maneuvers. I knew it was you when I saw how you tackled The Forest. I recognized that driving right away.”

“Mm.”

We both seemed to become aware of our proximity to one another at that moment, and moved away. Silence passed between us again, broken only by the sounds of the garage. He eyed me, and I felt my heart flutter nervously. I knew what was on his mind.

“What are you doing back here? In Wolfheart, I mean,” he asked quietly. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

“It’s not a story to tell in a place like this,” I said. “It’s complicated.”

“Well, perhaps we should go somewhere where you can tell me.”

Suddenly, I was hesitant. Coming here was probably a mistake. Seeing him was a mistake.

“That might not be the best idea,” I said.

“Why? Ah. Because your husband wouldn’t like it, right? Where is the guy?”

“No,” I said, with a flash of anger. “He’s not here.”

“Oh.”

Arthur gave me an intrigued look. I sighed.

“I told you, it’s complicated.”

“And it’s been thirteen years since I’ve seen you.”

I knew what I was getting myself into, coming down here to find him. It might’ve been a mistake, but it was a mistake I’d made willingly. And despite better judgement, I did want to tell him everything. I could’ve made it easy for the both of us and walked away at that moment. It would’ve been cruel to show up like this and then disappear again without a word, but in the long run doing that would be the wise decision. But I wasn’t making wise decisions.

After thinking for a moment, I asked, “Do you remember where our spot is?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Then meet me there. One hour.”

“Fine.”

“Okay.” I looked at him, taking all of him in. I wondered what he’d gone through these past years. Had he suffered like me? Or had he gotten along? I turned to leave.

“Hey,” he said, and I paused. “You aren’t going to disappear, are you?”

“I’ll be there,” I said. “Our spot. One hour.” And then I turned and left, not looking back.

Arthur Luna, back in my life. This was not the turn of events I’d been expecting.