“I know you won’t hurt me!”

The words burst out of her like a physical thing, seeming to rip at her throat on the way out. It hurt but the pain was a little thing in comparison to what was about to happen to her if Russel didn’t stop himself. The creature was beautiful, in a morbid sort of way. Its amber eyes were almost a hypnotic thing. The savage, brutal nature of him spoke of raw power and strength. She wondered, idly, how she could think such strange things in the heat of the most frightening moment of her life. No answer came to her for that question though, but she did come away with the realization that nothing else that happened to her came closer to being as terrifying. Watching Russel charging at her as a horrifyingly but oddly beautiful monster topped the list. Even after everything that happened at Gloucester, this one was worse. The fact that she just waited, staring him down as he got closer and closer to her made her body feel like it was about to dissolve into a puddle.

It’s okay, she whispered to herself, trying to find her strength when everything inside her screamed to run away as fast as possible. It will all be fine. I know it.

The werewolf was almost on top of her. She could feel the heat of its breath. Could see drool and spittle flying off the sides of its snarling lips. Its fur and tattered clothing were practically drenched in ichor and monster blood. Its claws ripped at the ground, pulling up and then flinging away clods of earth.

Still, Lola waited. Her eyes did not shut. Her body did not falter, despite wanting to so badly. Her arms stayed crossed over her chest.

Memories of their time together swam to the surface of her mind again and she let them fill her awareness. All the conversations they’d had. The brutal and just-slightly-above torture training sessions. The times he tended to her. And of course the times they had been together, starting with the bath at Wrexon. She didn’t want to die, not yet anyway. She still had unfinished business when it came to Drake but she knew if she died here and now, by Russel’s clawed hands, then she could die knowing she had at least lived her life well. That was something at least.

Russel was within three, maybe two feet of her.

You’re so close now, she thought to herself.

“I love you still,” she whispered.

Something flickered to life inside the wolf’s luminous, yellow eyes. She saw it. Small at first and then it grew bigger and bigger. A flicker of will? A glimmer of humanity?

Whatever it was, it made the werewolf suddenly slam all four limbs into the dirt at the same time in an effort to slow its forward momentum. That was a hard thing to do. The werewolf had a lot of mass and had been going incredibly fast. Lola wasn’t even sure the two or three feet he had left between them would be enough distance to stop his immense bulk in time. It made her heart race even more but instead of taking a few steps back, she forced herself to stand still. She kept her body stiff, her back ramrod straight. Her arms fell to her sides and she waited for him to either stop just inches from her face or completely bowl her over.

He did neither.

There wasn’t enough room for him to stop in time, that much was true. Russel, fully cognizant now and back in control, also knew that Lola wouldn’t move. He could see the defiant look on her face and the set of her body, which was clearly showing a stubborn and flat out refusal to do the smart thing and move out of the way.

She was making a point, he got that, but did she have to get herself killed to make it?

He supposed she sort of did, considering it was the only thing that had any effect on him and was able to snap him out of the wolf’s control. But now he had gained control back at one of the worst moments possible. Fortunately, his reflexes were on a whole other level still so instead of smashing right into her, he simply jumped, somersaulted over her head and landed on the other side.

She turned as he did, her head tracking him as he flew through the air. There was a look of such surprise and awe that he felt a weird sense of pride.

Then he landed on his feet and stood there for a few seconds, Lola watching him the whole time. He brought his massive wolf’s head down toward hers. The two of them stood there like that, their faces just inches away from each other. There was Lola, beautiful but as fragile as a porcelain doll. And then there was Russel, still trapped in the full, raw form of his werewolf nature.

Lola reached up with one hand and gently caressed the side of his face. She felt warmth and soft, bristly fur. Her fear drained away from her all of a sudden, almost as if it had never been there. It was a relief when it was gone but its sudden absence also made her feel incredibly weak and overtaxed. She didn’t crumble though. Instead, she kept her body firmly upright.

They stood like that for several long moments, Lola with her hand on the side of Russel’s wolf-life face and Russel staring back at her and leaning into that hand. Feeling it there, resting so confidently on his face, made him feel so much better. The raging, overwhelming sensations of the wolf’s mind were small now and back to being more like irritation as opposed to something that could rip control away from him.

And he had Lola to thank for that.

He wondered what had possessed her to be so brave and what had given her the strength to stand up to his monster form. Then he remembered she’d said something right before he got to her. Something that had been lost to him in the haze of being the wolf.

He tried to remember the words, forcing his mind to cough them up but they didn’t want to come back to him. Thankfully, he didn’t have to.

Lola stepped closer to him, her hand still on his face and smiled beautifully.

“I love you,” she said.