"Jane, you did a phenomenal job today! And the rest of you, incredible work as always. I couldn’t be prouder," Rolon said, his deep voice carrying a genuine, comforting warmth. A pleasant wave of exhaustion washed over me, mingled with the quiet satisfaction of a hard day’s work.
Most of the volunteer crew had already scattered, leaving only me and a couple of younger volunteers behind. They were high school students, patiently waiting for their parents to pick them up.
We were sitting inside our small, cozy community center. Outside, the late-afternoon sky was dissolving into deep indigo dusk, while Rolon—ever the thoughtful leader—poured us all mugs of hot tea and cut thick slices of homemade pie.
It was fluffy, fragrant, and still warm. Rolon proudly announced that his mate had baked it for us, and the heavenly scent of sweet jam instantly brought a prickle of tears to my eyes. It smelled exactly like the simple jam pies I used to bake myself—nothing fancy, but overflowing with the kind of love you could only taste in home cooking.
Rolon’s entire life was an inspiration to me.
In a world where most males used their strength to conquer and dominate, Rolon poured his soul into helping the less fortunate. He ran this entire volunteer operation almost entirely out of his own pocket, pouring his savings into a cause others dismissed as hopeless. The pitiful monthly stipend the state granted him barely covered the heating and electricity bills for the venue, yet he never complained.
He had a family of his own: a young half-human mate and a newborn baby. Beyond that, he ran the rabbit cafe entirely at his own expense, buying feed and supplies out of pocket simply because his conscience wouldn’t allow him to do otherwise. He was a profoundly good man—one of those exceptionally rare werewolves who channeled his innate strength toward protection rather than destruction.
I had met his mate once, and the bond between them was unmistakable. It wasn’t merely the instinctual pull of their fated connection, but a deep, fiercely protective affection.
As Rolon had once shared with me, she had worked tirelessly beside him at the shelter until her pregnancy took a brutal toll on her body. It drained her completely, and when their baby girl finally arrived—a tiny, fragile pup—the early awakening of the child’s inner beast threw her delicate system into turmoil.
Rolon doted on his daughter endlessly. I knew precisely what drove his relentless compassion, why he could never turn his back on someone in need.
He had grown up on the streets himself. Until his powerful wolf awakened and turned him into a "valuable societal asset," the state had treated him as utterly disposable, leaving him to nearly freeze and starve to death as a child. That brush with mortality was what compelled him to build a sanctuary for those who had yet to find their footing.
"Jane, I’ve already ordered you a cab," Rolan called out, snapping me out of my thoughts as he clapped a heavy, brotherly hand onto my shoulder.
"You really didn’t have to. I can walk back," I protested softly, though my legs were trembling with fatigue.
"Walk back in this weather?" He frowned, a strict, authoritative edge creeping into his tone. "It’s late, the buses have stopped running, and I am not letting you wander the streets alone. There are too many morons and unstable drifters out at night."
I offered a helpless shrug, knowing better than to argue when his protective instincts kicked in. Once Rolon made up his mind, there was no changing it.
Just then, my phone buzzed violently in my pocket. Pulling it out, I froze. A text from Annie flashed across the screen, making my stomach twist with a sudden, dreadful premonition:
Jane! The dorm supervisor just called me. Run back to the room right now!
My brows furrowed as I typed a quick response, but before the message could even send, my phone burst into a loud ring.
"Annie! Hey, where have you been? I was so worried about you!" I blurted out, pressing the receiver tightly to my ear.
"Jane... my parents dragged me out to the countryside, and... well, my heat hit out of nowhere," my friend’s voice sounded hollow and dangerously faint. "I thought I was going to die, it was horrific. They have me on an IV now. I should be discharged soon, but..."
"Wait, you’re in the hospital?!" I bolted up from my chair, nearly knocking my teacup onto the floor, and rushed out into the crisp evening air. "Why didn’t you tell me? I would have come right away!"
The thought of Annie’s heat taking such a violent, medical turn made my chest ache with worry.
"Don’t shout, please... I only regained consciousness two days ago, it was really bad," she rasped weakly. "Jane, listen to me... the supervisor called. Our room is on fire. They tried calling you first, but your phone must have been out of service."
All the blood drained from my face, leaving behind a cold, sickening void.
"What do you mean, our room is on fire?"
"I don’t know the details... call her yourself. I have to drop off, they just gave me a heavy sedative and my head is spinning. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?"
The line went dead. With trembling hands, I dialed the dorm supervisor’s number.
The woman was practically hyperventilating as she pieced together the horror for me. Someone had thrown a Molotov cocktail straight through our window. A few students had spotted a scrawny, suspicious guy break the glass with a brick before launching the incendiary bottle inside, setting the interior ablaze in seconds. He had vanished into the shadows before anyone could grab him.
I had no idea where I was going to sleep. The supervisor had tried to placate me with promises of temporary housing in another wing until our room could be restored, but a room was just four walls. All my belongings were in there. Every single thing I had accumulated over the years.
At least I had my ID on me. It was a small mercy that my savings were safe in my bank account, but my clothes... winter was fast approaching, and every piece of clothing I owned had gone up in flames. Everything.
I switched off my phone and buried my face in my hands, sliding down until I was sitting on the cold pavement, my back pressed against the brick wall of the cafe. Tears choked me, searing my cheeks as they tracked down my chin.
Who did I hurt? Why is this happening to me?
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