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7days to the line
Last Updated:
2025-08-25 19:32:36
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Beneath the Wolf Moon Cracks in the mask
The courtyard felt colder after everyone drifted back inside, leaving only whispers behind like smoke. My pulse still thudded in my ears, and though my body stood rigid with pride, my insides quivered as if I’d swallowed fire. I had looked my parents in the eyes and finally said no.But I knew it wouldn’t end there.Two weeks of relentless training had carved new strength into me. My muscles burned, my knuckles were raw, but every ache reminded me of why I was fighting. In just one week, I would stand in front of the pack, in front of Savanna, and prove that I was worthy of the Luna position. Jaxon’s Luna.Every day was the same rhythm: dawn runs, sparring with Lucas until my bones screamed, and mental discipline exercises with Jaxon, who pushed me harder than anyone else. His gaze would darken when I faltered, but it was never disappointment—it was belief, unyielding belief that I could do this.But in the quiet spaces between sweat and exhaustion, a different storm brewed.My parents’ wh
Beneath the Wolf Moon A line drawn
The sky that morning had the washed, brittle look of paper left out in the rain and dried too quickly, the kind of light that makes everything look more honest than it should be. I left the house with my phone in my pocket and a tightness in my chest that had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with the way the world had acquired edges overnight. One week remained. Seven sunrises and seven sunsets, and the ledger’s shadow had stretched into the corners of every room I moved through. The ordinary things—that squeak in the front gate, the sound of a newspaper thudding onto a porch—felt like possible plot points in a story I had not chosen to star in.Training that morning was a narrow, efficient thing. We ran drills at a pace that demanded every scrap of concentration I owned: footwork until my calves burned, partner work to make my reactions muscle-deep, and endurance runs until my lungs felt like they had been sanded and rewired. Jaxon’s instructions came one measured senten
Beneath the Wolf Moon The calm before the storm
The morning light filtered through the blinds in long, lazy lines that stretched across my bedroom floor, and for a moment, the world felt deceptively still. I lay there, eyes tracing the patterns of light and shadow, trying to convince myself that the week ahead could be survived, that the coming challenge wasn’t an impossible mountain I was expected to climb barefoot. Every muscle in my body ached pleasantly from yesterday’s training, and yet, that ache felt like a promise—a small proof that I was becoming someone who could stand in that ring and not crumble the moment Savanna dared to cross the line.I swung my legs off the bed, feeling the soft pull of the carpet under my feet. There was a rhythm to my breathing that tried to coax my heart into a steadier pace, though the anticipation of the day ahead made it leap stubbornly against my ribs. Today’s training would be different. Today would be about endurance, about learning to move without thinking, about instinct finding its place
Beneath the Wolf Moon 7 days to the line part 2
Each picture caught the same moment from slightly different angles: my hand reaching into the drawer where the velvet boxes had sat for as long as I could remember, my face turned away just enough that the camera caught the line of my jaw rather than my eyes, and the quiet geometry of a theft that had never felt like stealing because you cannot steal an explanation that should have been given to you.My mouth tasted metallic. I felt Ethan watching me with a kind of helpless dread, like someone standing at the side of the road watching two cars approach an intersection too fast.“You broke into my desk,” my father said, and in his tone I heard offense more than betrayal and insult more than sadness. “You removed protected documents. You printed copies we cannot track. Do you have any idea how irresponsible—how dangerous—this is?”“Dangerous for whom?” I asked, and there it was again—the tone that was becoming a new habit, the one that did not bend at the obvious places. “For me? Or for th
Beneath the Wolf Moon 7days to the line
Two weeks folded themselves into my muscles like ink into paper, seeping into every movement until even the way I breathed changed. Mornings belonged to the compound, to the clean snap of Jaxon’s voice cutting the fog, and to Lucas’s patient corrections that came like small, necessary chisels against whatever soft edges I still carried. Afternoons were for quiet—stretching, ice, notebooks filling with diagrams and phrases that translated body into plan: hips first, eyes up, breathe on impact, don’t give her a rhythm to steal. Nights were for sleep that came in hard, black slabs or not at all, depending on what part of me had the loudest claim to the dark.Now there was one week left. Seven days. The number moved through me with a cold certainty, not panic exactly, but the seriousness of a deadline you can’t pretend isn’t coming because you can feel it in your bones the way some people feel weather. I woke with it in my mouth and went to bed with it written behind my eyes. Seven days un
Beneath the Wolf Moon I am not a category
Hale’s head tilted, listening to a sound only he heard. It flickered across his face—the smallest calculation, added, revised, and thrown out. He spread his hands in a gesture that wanted to be magnanimous and landed closer to bored. “We’ll consider this the courtesy visit,” he said. “Next time, we won’t bring a message. We’ll bring consequences.”He took a backward step, melting into the shade at the alder’s base in a way that made him seem like a trick of light more than a man. Savannah stayed where she was, the tremor of her fury so fine and so controlled it looked almost like poise to the untrained eye. Then she stepped forward once, closing half the distance between us with the pointed confidence of a girl who had never been told no by anyone who mattered.“This isn’t finished,” she said, very softly, as if lending the words intimacy would make them truer. “Avery—” she lingered on my name like she could document ownership by pronouncing it, “—you should be careful what you ask for.
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