Chapter 2: The Fox’s Mask

In the middle of the night, Derek called me. His voice was weak—desperate.

My phone lit up at 12:07 AM. Derek’s contact photo—a blurry shot of us at a Halloween party—flashed before I hit answer. He sounded terrible, like he’d been up all night fighting a fever.

"Rach… I just hit adulthood… I need you… please help me."

Derek had told me before: shifters can only be with their partner after coming of age. During this time, they’re restless and suffering, and need their partner’s comfort or their bodies could be harmed for good.

He’d told me this over milkshakes at Rudy’s Diner, tracing the rim of his glass with his pinky. There was something almost shy in his eyes. “It’s different for us, you know? The first time is… rough. You’ll be there, right?”

At the time, he looked at me with such hope, wanting me there for him when he crossed that threshold. I took it as a confession and agreed, all smiles.

I still remember the way his gaze lingered on mine, and how I couldn’t help grinning the rest of the night. Back then, it felt like the beginning of something.

Now, hearing the news, my heart clenched. I hurriedly asked where he was, ready to run out the door.

My mind raced with worry—what if he needed me now? I started grabbing my keys and jacket, phone pressed to my ear.

To my surprise, Derek was actually at a bar.

I blinked, confused, standing in my pajamas at the foot of my bed. Wasn’t he supposed to be in some kind of crisis? The bar was the last place I expected.

"Derek, what are you even doing at a bar right now? It’s past midnight."

The question tumbled out, half-accusing, half-scared. Derek never stayed out past midnight.

He paused, then suddenly started crying.

I heard a choked sob, muffled like he was holding the phone to his chest.

"Rach, please come quick, I feel awful, Rach… I’m so uncomfortable…"

The sound twisted my gut. I couldn’t just ignore that. I started tossing stuff into my tote—sweatshirt, wallet, a half-empty bottle of water.

Hearing his voice, I didn’t ask any more questions. I quickly packed my things and got ready to leave. I barely remembered to lock the door behind me. My head was a mess, heart pounding in my throat.

Unexpectedly, my phone on the coffee table buzzed twice and then went dark.

The screen glowed in the dark living room as I rushed past, sneakers squeaking on the floorboards. I figured it was Derek texting me again, but when I unlocked it, the message wasn’t from the fox shifter.

It was from my other childhood friend, Marcus Grant, the half-demon.

The name on my lock screen made me pause. Marcus never texted me this late. I squinted at the message, thumb hovering over the unread bubble.

Marcus: "Sorry, do you have a minute?"

Marcus: "Could you help me with something? It’s urgent."

Two texts, quick and short. Marcus wasn’t the type to call for help unless he was out of options.

I frowned, glancing at the digital clock on the wall.

Red numbers blinked 12:18 AM. I hesitated, phone warm in my hand. Marcus wanted me to come to his place at this hour? Help with what? We’re all adults—wasn’t it obvious what he meant?

I told myself Derek was in crisis, but the guilt from Marcus’s unread texts burned a hole in my chest. Why did I always pick Derek first? Was I really that loyal, or just afraid of change?

Seeing that I didn’t reply, Marcus didn’t message again.

The silence from him felt heavier than I expected, but I shook it off. Some things never changed.

A bitter laugh slipped out. Marcus always wanted to be the center of attention, but he never fought for it. Maybe that’s why I’d never really liked him. So much for urgent. Unbelievable.

I leaned back in the rideshare’s fake-leather seat, staring out at the empty streets. My mind wandered—if it was so urgent, why did he give up so easily?

I knew he just wanted my attention. It’s always been this way since we were kids.

Even back in middle school, he’d lurk on the sidelines, eyes following me and Derek at recess, but never joining in unless I dragged him. He was always waiting for me to come to him. Always hoping I’d notice him first.

That’s why I never liked Marcus.