Chapter 8

The house was too quiet when she returned. Evelyn shut the door behind her and leaned against it, breath caught in her chest, heart still thudding too hard.

She hadn’t run.

She told herself that again and again.

But she hadn’t stayed either.

Her wolf was pacing now, restless beneath her skin, like the air had shifted and her bones didn’t fit right anymore. She tried to distract herself. Scrubbing the counter, rearranging tins, washing the same mug three times but nothing helped.

Her body didn’t want to be still. Her wolf didn’t want to be contained. And that was the real problem.

Because Evelyn had spent years learning how to survive by not wanting anything. Not safety. Not affection. Not comfort. Not even Adrian. Only to protect Sophia. And suddenly, her wolf wanted something so badly she was shaking with it.

Damon. 

It made her stomach twist in rebellion.

She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t healed. She didn’t even understand what was happening, not fully. But her wolf didn’t care. Her wolf wasn’t worried about grief or pride. She was made of instinct, and that instinct had just tasted something she couldn’t forget.

Evelyn sat in the kitchen, knuckles white around her tea, and stared into nothing.

The silence inside her felt louder than anything.

By dusk, the walls felt like they were closing in.

She grabbed her shawl, ignored Tomas asking if she wanted dinner, and slipped out the back door into the woods. She didn’t know where she was going until she was already halfway down the slope toward the river.

The light was soft, golden-pink. A breeze drifted through the trees. Everything smelled of moss and cool water and pine.

It should have helped.

It didn’t.

Her wolf was still pacing.

Her body was still too warm. Too tense.

There was a tightness low in her stomach that had no name and no welcome. She wasn’t used to feeling desire—not real, bone-deep, feral need. With Adrian, she’d had duty. Passion, occasionally. But this?

This was different.

Damon hadn’t even touched her.

But her wolf already wanted him. Not just to touch. Not just to taste.

She wanted to claim him. To mate. And the thought made her feel sick.Evelyn stopped walking and clutched the edges of her shawl tighter.

That’s what this was, wasn’t it?

Why her wolf wouldn’t shut up. Why the scent of him clung to her skin like smoke. Why she couldn’t stop thinking about the way his eyes hadn’t looked away. How her heart would race the second she was close to him. How her wolf wanted to take control whenever he was around. 

Her breath caught.

She turned toward the river, thinking the cold might help. And then she saw it. A flash of movement on the far bank. Something dark. Large. Ominous. 

A wolf.

Not just any wolf.

Black. Massive. Still.

Drinking from the water with slow, unbothered movements, like it had all the time in the world and wasn’t the most terrifying thing in it.

Evelyn froze.

Her pulse jumped.

Her wolf went utterly still.

Then said as clear as a summers day.

“Let me out Evelyn.”

The words echoed through her head, not loud, but clear—like a voice from deep underwater finally breaking the surface. Evelyn blinked. Her knees nearly buckled.

“What?” she whispered aloud, barely breathing.

Silence.

The wolf across the river lifted its head, water dripping from its muzzle. Red eyes glowed in the fading light. It didn’t see her. Not yet. But it would. She crouched down quickly and slipped behind a thick bush, heart thundering in her throat.

Her hands were shaking. She had never heard her wolf speak. Not once. Not like that.

Evelyn had always thought something was wrong with her. That she was too quiet, too weak, too obedient. She’d only become Luna because Adrian had chosen her—not because her wolf had earned it. Her wolf was silent apart fromn the odd nudge or feeling. Never once hadb she spoken ot her before. 

When Sophia died, that had changed.

Something in her had snapped.

Her wolf had come to the surface in a blur of rage and grief and blood—but she’d never spoken. Never tried to. Until now.

“Let me see him,” the voice whispered again, softer this time. “Please.”

Evelyn’s throat tightened.

“Why?” she murmured. “Why him?” But the voice fell silent again.

She pressed her back against the tree, staring through the branches, eyes locked on the black wolf as he turned in a slow circle and settled near the edge of the water. He lay down like he had no fear of being watched. No urgency. No enemies.

Like he belonged there. Like he owned it.

The forest felt quieter around him. Almost safe.

And Evelyn… she couldn’t move. She crouched in the shadows, breath shallow, lips parted, and just watched.

Her wolf didn’t speak again. But she felt it. That pull. That ache in her chest like something essential had clicked into place and now nothing would be the same. A pure primal instinct drawn from evolution itself. 

The first time she’d seen Damon in the square, she’d felt it too—but she’d denied it.

Now she couldn’t.

This was him. Unmistakably. 

The one her wolf had been waiting for all these years as she played house with Adrian.

Not because he was beautiful. Not because he was kind. But because he was made for her. The other half to her soul. 

Or… because she had been made for him. To soften the harsh edges immortality had cursed him with. 

The thought terrified her. Her hands curled in the dirt.

She wasn’t ready. She didn’t want to want anyone, not like this. Not after Adrian. Not after everything she’d lost.

Not after Sophia.

But her wolf didn’t care.

She could feel it now. That desperate hunger beneath the surface. Not just for touch, not just for sex—though gods, the heat in her belly pulsed at the thought—but for recognition. For bond.

For home. For safety. 

It scared her.

She didn’t want to break again. But watching the black wolf rest near the riverbank, tail flicking gently, head lifted like he was sniffing the wind, Evelyn felt something come undone inside her anyway.

A tether snapped.

She let out a slow, shuddering breath.

“Fine,” she whispered. She stood. Her wolf surged forward with a joy so sudden and sharp it nearly knocked her off her feet. And then she shifted.

Bones cracked. Skin tore. Heat burst through her limbs like wildfire. It wasn’t painful—not exactly—but it was raw, intense, blinding.

She hadn’t shifted in months. Not since Sophia. Not since the blood and the betrayal. And the endless heartbreak.  

But now?

It felt different. Like her wolf had been waiting all this time just to be near him.

When the change was done, Evelyn stood in the dark, her fur as deep and black as the sky, her chest heaving, eyes locked across the river.

The other wolf was watching now. He could smell her scent. 

He had turned.

Seen her.

And still—he did not move.

Evelyn’s wolf stepped forward, cautious, ears alert. And the other wolf inclined his head.

Not a bow.

Not a threat.

Just a simple, powerful acknowledgement. They watched each other in silence as the sun sank lower behind the trees.

Two shadows born of loss.

Two monsters powered by fire.

And for the first time since her daughter’s death, Evelyn felt something sharp in her chest that wasn’t grief.

It was hope.

And fear.

And longing.

Not for a man.

Not even for a mate.

For understanding. For a bond that might not break.

She didn’t cross the river.

He didn’t come to her.

But they stood like that for a long, long time—two wolves watching, waiting.

And when Evelyn finally pushed herself to turn back towards the trees, toward the village, her wolf spoke just once more.

“He is ours Evelyn, you can not deny us our true fate.”