Bound By Moonlight

The forest was alive, a restless hush carrying through the skeletal branches. Emry padded silently, breath clouding in the crisp night air. She had no wolf yet and no fated mate—her eighteenth birthday was still weeks away—but that didn’t stop Eastin from dragging her into patrols as though she could do anything if danger came. Her brother stood ahead in the clearing, posture tall and commanding, the weight of Alpha settling on his shoulders like it had always belonged there. The moon caught the lines of his jaw, the hard glint of his blue-gray eyes. Eastin was only a year older than her, but the difference between seventeen and eighteen felt like a chasm. He had his wolf. He had his authority. He had the loyalty of the pack. And standing at his side, as always, was Braxton. The Beta. The shadow. The blade. Emry’s stomach turned. His presence was a constant irritation, a reminder of everything she lacked. And yet, she couldn’t ignore the way her skin prickled whenever he was near.

Chapter Three: Luna-in-TrainingThe training yard echoed with the sound of fists striking wood and bodies slamming into dirt. Morning drills had ended, but the air still throbbed with the leftover energy of wolves too eager to prove themselves.Emry stood at the edge of the sparring ring, a ledger tucked under her arm, watching as two groups of pack members argued heatedly near the racks of practice weapons.“You get the yard every morning,” one of the younger wolves snapped, his voice cracking with frustration. “We never get a chance to train properly. How are we supposed to be ready for patrols if we’re shoved aside like pups?”An older warrior snarled back, “Because pups don’t need the yard. Warriors do. You’ll earn your place when you’re worth it.”The shouts swelled, bodies crowding closer, the scent of aggression thick in the air.Emry stepped forward, planting herself between the groups before tempers snapped into violence. “That’s enough.”Her voice wasn’t Alpha-deep like East

The map spread across Eastin’s desk was littered with new markers—red stones for rogue sightings, black for skirmishes, silver for the dead. There were too many stones now.He pressed his palms into the table until the wood groaned. The pack house was quiet, long past midnight, but sleep had abandoned him weeks ago.Something about these attacks didn’t fit. Rogues didn’t plan this well. They didn’t strike in calculated arcs around their territory. They didn’t disappear into the woods without leaving scent trails.Unless they weren’t rogues at all.Eastin’s jaw tightened.The first time he’d allowed himself to think that—really think it—he’d wanted to tear the thought out of his skull. But now, he couldn’t ignore it. The pattern of movement. The precision. The growing boldness. Someone was orchestrating them. Someone who knew their land, their defenses, their weaknesses.And every time, every damn time, Emry had been close to the line of fire.He leaned back in his chair, dragging a ha

Emry woke with the feeling that the dream had followed her into the waking world. The first light of morning spilled across her floorboards, soft gold chasing away the shadows. The air still smelled faintly of wildflowers, stronger than it should have been—thick, living, as though the scent itself had a pulse. “Calliope,” she whispered. She rubbed her palms over her eyes, trying to shake the remnants of the dream. But the hum remained, faint and rhythmic, thrumming beneath her ribs like the echo of a heartbeat that wasn’t hers. When she looked toward the window, the light hurt. Not painfully, but sharply—too bright, too vivid. She could see the tiniest flecks of dust drifting through the air, the shimmer of dew clinging to the grass beyond the glass, even the faint tremor of wings from a bird perched on the outer ledge. Everything felt louder. More alive. Her wolf. The realization crept in, quiet but certain. The Moon Goddess’s words lingered in her mind—Your other half

The night pressed heavy over Silvercrest.Braxton sat on the edge of the training yard fence, the chill of the wood biting into his palms. The moon hung low and pale above the treetops, not yet full, but bright enough to silver the edges of the forest.He should have gone inside hours ago. Should have been asleep, preparing for another day of patrols. But his wolf wouldn’t let him rest. It prowled inside him, agitated and wild, pacing the confines of his mind like a caged storm.It wasn’t supposed to be like this.Her awakening wasn’t supposed to begin for another week. That was how it worked — the Moon Goddess marked their kind from birth, their wolves rising when the time was right, under the pull of the full moon. Predictable. Natural. Controlled.But Emry was already changing.He’d seen it in the way her eyes shimmered with violet, in the hum of her energy when she passed too close, in the way his wolf responded to her now — instinctive, raw, recognizing.He dragged a hand through