Chris. Flashback.

  Chris really needed that break. After everything that had happened, and especially with that newly awakened... Gerda, he felt he had the right to breathe out. Everything was stable for now: the implant was working, her vitals were steady. He could afford to let go a little. Even if just for a bit.

  He looked at the name in his contacts. Ingra. The corners of his mouth twitched and pulled upward. Things were always easy with her, and right now, that felt just right.

  Ingra... with her, everything was simple. Bright, free, no drama. She didn’t build illusions or ask for the impossible. Plus, she was dual-natured too. A bobcat. A loner. This kind of thing suited her perfectly. They could go weeks without talking, and when they met again, it felt like nothing had changed.

  He called.

  “Only if you’re flying with me to the Fifth,” she said, leaving him no room to back out. “Beach, sea, palm trees. No problems, no political talk, no heavy stuff. Just us, the sun, and... warm sand under our feet.”

  He smirked. There was something tempting about that.

  “I’m in.”

  The hotel was upscale, the sun generous, Ingra was uninhibited. It was always easy with her, no need to pretend, no need to hide the predator or the appetite. For the first two days, Chris actually felt himself let go. He laughed, swam in the warm sea, kissed Ingra in the surf, and, maybe for the first time in a while, didn’t think about anything.

  Gerda? Yeah, he’d left her when she seemed stable enough, under his control. If something changed, the system would notify him. Deep down, he was hoping the transformation would just stall out.

  And really, let her sweat a little. Maybe she’d appreciate it more when someone did show up to help. No one owed her anything, dammit. Though, truth be told, he was lying to himself a little, he knew he kind of did owe her.

  That’s why, later that day, he called Pit..

  “Hey. I’ve got a girl,” he started. “Fresh. Not sure if she’s a wolf, but the signs are there. Still unstable, I left a beacon on her, I’m tracking her. Thinking, once she’s ready, I’ll introduce her to you. Maybe she’ll fit into the pack.”

  “Bring her,” Pit replied with enthusiasm. “We’ve got room. Girls’ve been asking for someone new anyway. It’s all boys, boys, boys lately…”

  Chris promised he’d check in after he got back.

  But on the second day, the system gave a warning. His implant started showing changes in Gerda’s vitals, elevated temperature, heart rate fluctuations, blood composition shifts. Something was happening.

  He didn’t take it too seriously at first, but just in case, he called Pit.

  “Pit, Gerda’s signals are acting up. Not a red alert or anything, but something’s off. Something’s shifting. Don’t wanna blow it out of proportion, but maybe have someone on your end swing by and check on her?”

  Pit sent his youngest, quiet kid, reliable.

  “She’s got a friend. Looking after her. Looks like the flu. It’s under control,” the kid reported back a couple hours later.

  Chris exhaled. Perfect. So it’s fine. Or at least tolerable.

  He decided everything was fine. Under control. Show must go on. Ingra was still there, but kind of halfway, glued to her phone, flirting, a little distant. Which suited him just fine, he didn’t have the energy to entertain anyone. Just bar, beach, sea... like the calm before the storm. But the nights, those were his. He and Ingra were surprisingly well-matched in that department. Chris smiled lazily, remembering the last night. They really were a damn good find for each other.

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  But Wednesday night, things got worse. The impulses were intensifying. Not yet an emergency, but close. He made a decision: tomorrow, he’d call. Pit had her number. He’d call, find out what’s up, maybe drop by, just to check.

  He almost drifted off.

  And then—it hit.

  Heat. A spasm deep inside. Panic crashing through his chest. He bolted upright. First thing, looked at Ingra. She was asleep. Calm. So, not her.

  The implant was flaring. Data lines racing past his eyes. Approaching critical state.

  Gerda.

  No time to think. He didn’t even pack. There wasn’t time. He was scared he wouldn’t make it. Shot a short message to Ingra: “The pup’s in crisis.” And left.

  Four hours through clouds, shattered thoughts, fear of screwing up again. The ocean flickering below, cities flashing by, a flock of wild grey geese bursting into view and vanishing into the fog. Turbulence. Landing. Racing through the city in a taxi, streets, lights, intersections, and then he was there.

  He made it. She’d had time to be scared. But he made it. So the mad dash wasn’t for nothing.

  ...

  Later, standing at the stove in a pink bathrobe, he remembered that wild race, through the night, the lights, the birds, and Ingra yelling through the phone when he finally answered:

  “Lose my number, Chris. This is too much. I hope your little puppy problem was worth it.”

  He sighed.

  “It was,” he said out loud, flipping the pancake.

  Gerda's place.

  The kitchen greeted her not only with the smell of vanilla — but also with the sight of Chris.

  He was standing by the stove, wearing her pink, fluffy bathrobe, which looked almost absurd on him. The robe was clearly too small — the sleeves too short, the belt barely tied across his chest. His damp, dark hair, slightly wavy, fell just past his shoulders. Last time she saw him, it had been tied in a bun.

  And of course, there was the view — that robe barely covered his toned torso. She caught a glimpse of several thin scars. Hmm. Interesting…

  She barely had time to wonder where he’d gotten them before Chris, without turning around, said:

  “Pink suits me, don’t you think? I might get one for myself. Very soft. Cozy.”

  “Especially with pancakes,” Gerda smirked.

  “Exactly. Breakfast of champions,” he said with a wink, finally turning toward her.

  Gerda didn’t know what to say — the contrast between who he was and how he looked right now was just too loud.

  “And what’s the occasion for the outfit?” she asked.

  Chris chuckled. “Well… it’s better than being naked.”

  She didn’t reply — thrown off again — so he added:

  “Came straight from the shuttle. Needed a shower. No change of clothes — threw everything into the wash. So… this. If you’re against it, I can take it off.”

  There was a teasing glint in his eyes, a flick of a smile.

  Gerda blushed — well, the old Chris was back. That made things easier somehow.

  “You need protein and carbs right now,” he continued, spreading cottage cheese onto a pancake. “Your body’s asking for fuel. And building material. Calcium, by the way.”

  After breakfast, they stepped onto the balcony, each with a cup of coffee. The sun was just beginning to seep through the clouds.

  Gerda took a sip, inhaled the air, and said quietly:

  “Thank you.”

  Chris didn’t speak, but his gaze was calm and serious.

  “For coming,” she went on. “And staying. For this morning. I don’t know what would’ve happened if…”

  Her voice trembled. Chris gently stopped her:

  “Don’t, Gerda. It’s okay. We stick together. That’s what we do.”

  He fell silent, giving her space.

  “I have so many questions…” she began. “I don’t even know where to start. So maybe just tell me what you think I need to know. I’m ready. I understand now how dangerous it is not to know. I don’t want to be alone with it anymore. I can’t. I won’t survive it…”

  Chris took a sip and set his mug on the railing. For a while, he just looked at the waking city below. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, steady:

  “You’re not alone. I’m here. And not just me.”

  He turned to her. There was something new in his eyes — not worry, not regret, but resolve. He studied her as if gauging how much truth she could handle.

  “There are things easier to show than explain. But I’ll start small. You noticed the signals — heat, pulses, what happened at night. That’s not a side effect of the transformation. Those are symptoms of a broken transformation. Think of it as corrupted code. Your energy is evolving faster than your body, and if it’s not stopped, your body won’t make it.”

  He wasn’t pressing, but every word landed with precision.

  “But now, after what you went through, you won’t miss the early signs. And judging by how my presence stabilizes you… there’s some kind of bond between us. Maybe because of the implant…”

  He trailed off — he hadn’t meant to say that. But the word was already out.

  “In our last meeting, I implanted a device in you. I was here. It’s sort of a tracker and a monitor at once. I’ve got the receiver in my wrist.”

  Gerda stared at him, stunned into silence.

  Chris misread the silence — or pretended to — and half-smiled, trying to ease the tension.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not reading your thoughts. Yet.”

  She smiled, tension still tight in her shoulders, but less so.

  “I felt it building in you — the fear, the heat, the unease. But it stayed within normal ranges. I checked. Then suddenly I realized… I might not make it in time.”

  He paused, letting the words settle.

  “And now?” she finally asked. “What does it mean for me?”

  Chris exhaled. He knew the answer — but she wouldn’t like it.

  “It means your life will never be the same again.”