Chapter 5: Wilder Beasts Than These

“These are all my books, signed copies for the Burlington Book Expo. They invited me to deliver the keynote this year. The standards for the Expo have really declined over the years. We’ve had a lot of mediocre visitors. It’s a shame. But even after years and years and years people still love the characters—”

The hour is late, and in his office, Professor Lucas Colmenero, chair of the literature department, drones on about his upcoming appearance at the Burlington Book Expo, completely enamored with the sound of his own voice. Across from him, Loretta struggles to maintain a neutral expression, fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

She has always known exactly what kind of man Lucas is: the arrogant, cocky, self-centered bestselling author and professor who spins outlandish tales simply to keep the spotlight on himself. But the real reason Safi—yes, Safi, who has taken on Loretta’s form—is here isn’t for journalism. It’s to buy time.

With the day nearing its end, Safi shifted into Loretta, a sophomore journalism student, and walked into Lucas's office. She explained that she had learned Lucas would be a special guest at the Burlington Book Expo, and she wanted to feature him on her podcast for some early publicity. Predictably, Lucas agreed without hesitation, then launched into an endless, meandering monologue that drifts from the book expo to the success of his bestseller, Wilder Beasts Than These. All the while, Loretta played her part perfectly—nodding, smiling, tossing in just the right questions to keep him talking. But her mind was elsewhere, strategizing her next move.

Like, just a moment ago, when Lucas got up to grab a book from the shelf, she discreetly slipped his car key from his coat pocket.

Time ticks by. Finally, Lucas checks the time and, with obvious reluctance, wraps up the conversation. “That’s all for tonight. We can continue after the expo—I’d be happy to share more of my experiences then.”

Loretta offers a polite, practiced smile. “Thank you, Professor Colmenero. Your stories are truly fascinating and inspiring. My listeners will definitely love them.”

Lucas shrugs on his coat, escorts her out, and locks the office behind them. Loretta watches as he disappears into the night.

As soon as he’s gone, and with no one around, Loretta shifts into another person.

Time for the next step.

The campus is nearly empty, the streetlamps casting dim pools of yellow light. Lucas hurries toward the parking lot, his brisk walk almost breaking into a jog.

Tonight is his turn to pick up his son, but he lost track of time. A text from his ex-wife, Catherine, tells him she’s already picked Robbie up. Now, he has to drive over and get him.

As he nears the parking lot, Lucas spots Max sitting alone on a bench in the distance. She looks like she’s been waiting for someone.

For a moment, Lucas considers just walking past—Max always acts like she’s looking down her nose at him—but his car is right there. Pretending not to see a colleague would be… awkward. So, he forces a brief greeting.

“Max? Still here this late?”

“I’m waiting for Safi,” Max replies, gripping an empty coffee cup. Her tight hold suggests she’s been waiting for quite a while. “She said she’d meet me after class, but she still hasn’t shown up.”

Safi. Lucas’s expression darkens. He barely stops himself from swearing out loud.

But Max probably has no idea what’s going on. Snapping at a clueless colleague would just make him look like a jerk.

He exhales sharply, waves a dismissive hand, and strides back toward the parking lot.

At his car, Lucas presses the unlock button. Nothing happens.

Frowning, he pats his pockets. First his pants, then his coat. No key.

His irritation mounts as he rummages through his briefcase. Still nothing.

Shit. Did he leave it in his office? Muttering under his breath, he turns back toward the building.

On the way, he spots Max again. She is still sitting there, still waiting, occasionally glancing at her phone.

Then, someone steps out from the shadows. The dim streetlight catches the figure, stretching their shadow long across the pavement.

Lucas stops dead in his tracks as he recognizes the face.

His breath hitches.

He stares, wide-eyed, at the woman standing before him.

Shoulder-length dark hair. The familiar curve of her face. The slight tilt of her head.

Maya Okada.

Maya Okada, his former student.

Maya Okada, whom he once mentored.

Maya Okada, who died four years ago.

A chill grips his spine.

┌─────────────────┐

│Safi, are you okay? I’m still waiting.│

└─────────────────┘

Max hits send, then stares at the screen. A vague unease creeps over her.

Safi texted earlier, saying she had something to take care of before meeting up. But by now, Max has been waiting long enough to consume an entire cup of Earl Grey tea from the school coffee bar. She wonders if Safi is deciding not to come, or if something has gone wrong.

In the empty campus, the sound of shoes echoes ahead. Max looks up and sees Lucas again. This time, he is coming from the opposite direction. Did he forget something in his office?

She is about to look away when Lucas suddenly freezes.

The color drains from his face. His eyes, wide with shock, lock onto something near the streetlamp.

Max follows his gaze. A lone figure stands at the corner, motionless in the dim glow. Max squints, trying to make out their face, but she doesn’t recognize them.

Then, Lucas’s cry, a mix of confusion and fear, slices through the silence.

“…Maya?!”

Max’s stomach twists. She knows that name. She heard it from Safi.

A name that belongs to someone who is supposed to be dead.

Right now, Lucas is spiraling into an emotional breakdown, completely losing control.

“No, no, this can’t be real! It’s impossible!” His voice escalates into a hysterical shriek.

“This has to be some kind of sick joke. Maya is dead!” His breath comes in short, panicked gasps.

“Safi?! Did you do this? Are you messing with me?!” His accusations fly wildly at Safi.

Lucas looks like a man possessed.

Suddenly, his shaking fingers reach for something at his waist. He yanks the gun free and levels it at the woman he believes is Maya.

“You’re not her! She’s dead!” He screams, his finger tightening on the trigger.

BANG!

The gunshot shatters the stillness of the night.

The instant the gun goes off, Max’s entire body locks up. Her breath hitches. Her ears ring.

As if struck by an invisible bullet, she instinctively clamps her hands over her ears, gasping for air.

In the lingering echoes, she hears another gunshot, one from ten years ago.

And suddenly, she is somewhere else.

Blackwell Academy. The bathroom. The small blue butterfly.

Chloe. Falling. Lying in a spreading pool of blood.

Dying.

She watched Chloe die. She let Chloe die.

Max clutches her head, arms wrapped tight around it.

It’s happening all over again.

Her mouth dries, her hands shake, her vision blurs. Air vanishes from her lungs.

She’s falling.

Her knees buckle, and she collapses, forehead pressing against the freezing floor.

The echo of the gunshot, the weight of it, is too much to bear.

Safi’s plan has completely spiraled out of control.

The plan was simple: delay Lucas, wait for the school to empty out, then shift into Maya and catch him off guard. She intended to use his panic to force the secret out. To ensure solid evidence, she chose a spot covered by CCTV, stealing his car keys to distract him and lure him there. As an extra precaution, she arranged for Max to be present. Max would see Lucas and, naturally, become the witness she needed. She never planned for Max to know the details, just to serve as an extra layer of insurance.

She only meant to scare Lucas. She never expected him to be carrying a gun. And she sure as hell didn’t expect him to actually fire it.

The bullet slices across her cheek, leaving a searing trail. It misses her shoulder by mere inches.

But on the other side of the chaos, things are far worse.

Max is on her knees, hands clamped to her head, shaking violently. She looks utterly terrified.

A sharp pang seizes Safi’s chest. She sprints to Max, drops to her knees, and pulls her into a tight, desperate embrace.

“Max! Are you okay?” Urgency sharpens her voice. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registers the sound of something shattering—some fragile, icy shell cracking apart—but she has no time for the fcking metaphors right now.

Max bites her lip, eyes screwed shut, face twisted in pain.

Footsteps pound the road, fading into the distance. Lucas has vanished into the darkness.

Safi clenches her jaw, her gaze flicking in the direction he ran. But she doesn’t follow.

Max is her priority.

“I’m taking you home,” she murmurs, reaching to help Max up. Her movements are a little rushed, a little clumsy, but she tries to be as careful as possible.

Max’s full weight sinks against her, too weak to stand on her own. Safi holds her close, steadying her with every careful step as they head for Hellerton.

Somewhere along the way, without realizing it, Safi lets Maya’s shapeshifting disguise fall away.

Hellerton House isn’t far, yet the journey feels endless. Safi carefully guides Max, offering quiet reassurances, watching every step as if one misstep might shatter her completely.

Nearly forty minutes pass before they finally reach Hellerton. After carrying her up to the second floor and gently laying her on the bed, Safi notices how impossibly pale Max looks. Like a frightened kitten.

She sits beside her, pulling the blanket over her before taking Max’s cold hands in her own. “It’s okay now,” she murmurs. “You’re safe.”

As she watches Max’s exhausted face, a storm of emotions swirls inside. For the first time, it truly sinks in. Her choices don’t just put herself at risk. They endanger the people she cares about. The one person she… deeply cares for.

She made the wrong choice. And she knows it’s her fault for being this way.

Now, all she can do is stay. Stay with Max until morning.

“Achoo!”

… Damn cat allergies.

Don’t say that, I won’t trade you.

No matter what you choose, I know you’ll make the right decision.

Chloe… I can’t make this choice…

Max… it’s time…

Chloe… I’m so, so sorry…

The storm. The choice. Bay. The funeral. Chloe’s funeral.

Blackwell. The bathroom. The gunshot. It was Max who pulled the trigger.

Max’s vision slowly comes into focus. She blinks, taking in her surroundings, realizing she’s somehow back at Hellerton. Safi sits beside her, guilt and concern written all over her face.

“Safi…” Max’s voice is hoarse, barely more than a whisper. “I… I saw Chloe.”

Safi hesitates, then asks, “Who’s Chloe?” Before quickly adding, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Max falls silent for a long moment. When she finally speaks, her voice cracks.

“She was my best friend. Ten years ago… she died.

“My choice killed her.”

Safi doesn’t say anything. She just sits there, holding Max’s freezing hands, listening. She realizes this is the first time Max has opened up about her past. Comforting people has never been her strong suit, and moments like this always leave her feeling awkward and unsure.

Max pushes herself up, tears slipping down her face and dropping on Safi’s hand. Safi wipes the tears away from Max’s face with her thumb, her fingers lingering briefly against her cheek before pulling her into a hug, gently stroking her hair.

“Max, it wasn’t your fault,” Safi whispers, her voice both firm and gentle. “You were hurting too. Nobody wanted this to happen.”

Max looks up at her, lashes damp with tears. “No, Safi. It was my fault.” She repeats it again and again, her voice small, like an eighteen-year-old’ s private confession.

Safi gazes down at her. She doesn’t argue. Some wounds can’t be healed with empty reassurances or easy words. So she just holds Max, offering quiet comfort.

“She trusted me,” Max whispers. “She said no matter what choice I made, she knew it was the right one.”

“And I made my choice. The gunshot rang out. Everything was… fixed. The bad guy was arrested.”

“But Chloe, my blue-haired Chloe, was gone. Forever.”

Max takes a shaky breath, her vision blurring again. “I shouldn’t have rewound. I should’ve torn up that goddamn photo. I should’ve saved her.”

Safi’s throat tightens. She still doesn’t fully understand. Not the choices, not the true meaning of rewind, not the sheer weight of it all. But she knows Chloe was the blue-haired girl in Max’s wallet. And she knows that, for ten years, Max has been trapped in that moment. Reliving it. Unable to forgive herself.

“Max,” Safi whispers, her voice as tender as if soothing a hurt kitten. “You were just a teenager at that time. An ordinary girl, not a superhero with the power to alter time. And if Chloe believed in you, if she knew you made the right choice, then maybe… it was.”

Max presses her lips together, then closes her eyes, resting her head against Safi’s shoulder.

Minutes pass in silence. Finally, Max lifts her head, her tear-filled eyes meeting Safi’s.

For a moment, Safi just stares. Then, she mutters a little curse under her breath, “Shit. I really do still love you.” She looks up at the ceiling, frustration and self-deprecation woven into her voice.

Max’s expression flickers with something unreadable. The next moment, without hesitation, she leans in, cupping Safi’s face and pressing a soft, lingering kiss.

Slow. Gentle. Hesitant, yet searching for something real. Something safe in a world that has already fallen apart.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be the right person,” Max murmurs, her forehead resting against Safi’s. “But I want to try. With you.”