01: Unanswered text

Layla POV

"That flower goes there."

Carla pointed with her pen like she was conducting an orchestra.

She had been overseeing the decorations for the past two hours and showed no signs of stopping.

I carried the pot of moonrose across the hall with both hands, set it on the podium, and immediately sneezed so hard I nearly knocked it over.

"Bless ya, Layla," she called without looking up from her notepad. "You gonna survive or should I bench you?”

“I'm good,” I replied.

"Adjust the mask, babe. Those things aren't decorative."

The nose mask was doing absolutely nothing. The pollen had already decided we were enemies. But honestly? I wasn't even thinking about what the plants were doing to me.

My mind was on Draven and the text he hadn't replied to.

I set the flowers down carefully and pulled my phone from my back jean pocket for what had to be the tenth time.

Nothing.

The screen glowed innocently back at me, mocking the ache in my chest.

I told myself it was fine. He was swamped with Alpha training, with college and the million things a future Alpha was expected to carry on his shoulders before he was even twenty-two.

I knew all of this. I understood all of this.

It didn't stop the ache.

Four months of dating. Only four times of actually seeing him. That was what loving Draven Darkwood looked like from the outside. If anyone on the outside even knew. But they didn't, which was the entire problem.

"What's it with the phone, Layla?" Lois looked over at me from the top of the ladder. "You've been checking it every five minutes."

"Expecting a call from George?" Carla's voice held a teasing, knowing tone.

"No." I slipped the phone back into my pocket. "Why would George call me? He's at school."

"Still pretending you don't wish he'd finally make a move?" Lois drawled.

I'm not pretending. I'm waiting on a text from his best friend. Your future Alpha.

The words sat heavy and unspoken in my throat, the way they always did. Saying it out loud was something close to sacrilege.

Draven had been clear; patient, warm, but clear. No one could know. Not until his father stepped down. Not until he became Alpha. Only then would the pack's expectations ease, giving him room to breathe. Only then would every eye stop measuring the girl who stood beside him.

I was patient. Only three more years.

The only problem was the way Carla looked at him.

She was my sister. My family. And the girl every pack member wanted with the future Alpha. Every elder nodded approvingly whenever her name was mentioned alongside Draven's.

She had no idea about us. And I couldn't tell her. So from the corner of my eye, I watched her hope quietly and felt like the worst kind of person.

"You could one day be Luna of the LongClaws Pack, you know," she teased, dragging me back to the present. "George's Luna. Imagine it."

"Okay, let's slow all the way down." Savanna laughed, but it never quite reached her eyes. It hardly ever did when the girls were on this topic.

"She's still wolfless, Carla. LongClaws might be a small pack, but they're not going to accept a wolfless orphan as Luna. Even one with our Beta's last name."

The hall went quiet.

Carla and Lois both turned to look at Savanna like she'd spilled something on the floor.

"What?” Savanna shrugged one shoulder. “I'm just saying what everyone is thinking."

Carla looked ready to launch into battle on my behalf, so I quickly said,

"She's not entirely wrong." I picked up the next pot and moved to its spot. "I don't expect George to make me his Luna someday, okay?"

I don't want him to.

The thought was quiet but absolute.

The only person I want is Draven. It's only ever going to be Draven Darkwood.

I set the pot down and sneezed again.

"If you're allergic to plants," a voice rang out from the entrance, "the solution is to stay away from the plants."

Speak of the devil.

George Hunt stood in the doorway with that easy grin he'd had since we were children. The one that made everyone around him immediately relax.

And right behind him was Draven.

Hands in his pockets, expression carefully unreadable.

My heart did something embarrassing.

Our eyes met for exactly two seconds. Just long enough for me to catch the glint of mischief he was hiding under all that Alpha calm.

He'd planned this. He actually came.

I looked away before anyone could notice me noticing him.

"Oh my God!" Lois was already jumping down from the ladder and running. She threw both arms around George, who laughed and hugged her back easily.

Draven stepped aside to let it happen, the way he always stepped aside. Present but untouchable.

People didn't hug Draven Darkwood. He had a gravity about him that made you keep a respectful distance without him ever saying a word.

Only I knew what was underneath. And I had to stand here pretending I didn't.

He nodded once to Carla, who lit up like the dawn flowers that had been killing me these last few minutes.

"Well, this is a surprise," Lois said warmly.

"That was the plan." George looked at me and winked.

The girls caught the exchange and let out a collective oooh. Except Savanna, who rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful.

They all thought the wink was flirting. Only I knew the message.

Draven, not George, had come to surprise me.

A smile tugged at my lips despite my best efforts. Let them think what they want to think.

I went back to the decorations before my face gave anything away.

The guys spread out. Including their new friends who came with them. One of them looked around the hall and whistled low.

"This party's going to be something. Thanks for dragging us along, Dray."

I didn't look up but I felt Carla's energy shift from across the room. That softening she tried to hide whenever Draven was near. She thought he'd come for her and had brought his friends to help too.

All of our friends thought the same thing.

I loved my sister. She was my best friend.

But moments like this made me wish I could grab her shoulders and shout that he was mine. That every stolen glance belonged to me.

Instead, I lowered my gaze and went to work on the ribbons.

Then the world exploded.

A deafening crack echoed overhead. Everyone looked up as the ceiling beam snapped.

I didn't move fast enough. I registered a shadow before I felt hands hit my shoulders and shoved. My back hit the wall hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs.

“Move,” George screamed, pulling me from danger.

Meanwhile, time seemed to slow. One moment Draven's eyes were fixed on me. The next…

He lunged straight toward Carla, his body slamming protectively into hers as chunks of wood and plaster crashed over them.

Someone screamed. The room dissolved into chaos.

I couldn't move or breathe. Couldn't look away from Draven's back as they covered my sister, shielding her completely.

I stood with debris raining all around me, ears ringing, watching him curl around Carla.

George pulled me firmly toward the door. I went. My feet moved. But I couldn't stop watching Draven's broad back, Carla's face pressed against his chest.

The image planted itself somewhere it was going to be very hard to uproot.

✶⋆ ♡ ⋆✶

By the time the damage was under control, dusk had settled over the pack grounds.

Most of us waited outside while the guys cleared the wreckage.

Carla was fine. More than fine.

Not a scratch on her. Draven had made sure of that.

I hated that the thought hurt.

I hated it even more because it shouldn't. There were logical explanations. He'd simply been closest to her. Anyone would've done the same.

But my heart wasn't interested in logic. My heart only remembered seeing him throw himself over her.

I looked down at the cuts scattered across my arms. Tiny scratches. My face stung a little too. Nothing serious.

The guys worked for another hour cleaning up inside.

It was Draven who appeared at the door when it was done. Immediately every conversation quieted.

"All set, ladies." His eyes swept the small group casually, cool, giving nothing away. And then landed on me for a beat longer than the rest.

Two seconds, maybe three.

But Draven did not look at things by accident. He looked at things when he decided to look at them. And I felt that look the same way you feel a hand on your shoulder even after it's been lifted.

"You alright, Layla?” He casually rubbed the back of his neck. His voice was even. Neutral. “Those scratches look nasty. You should see the medic."

The public concern startled me. He almost never addressed me directly in front of others. I felt every eye turn my way.

"I’m fine," I said quickly, managing a small smile. "Just scratches. No big deal."

He held my gaze for one more beat just as George emerged too.

Something moved through his expression that was too controlled to name. A flicker that almost mirrored the storm raging in my chest.

He nodded once, jaw tight, then turned and whispered something to George.

The graduation party decorations were mostly intact. The flowers would still bloom at the right time. The lights would still twinkle. But something had shifted in the air, heavier than falling timber.

Moments later, George drifted to where I was standing.

"He counted the cuts," he whispered quietly, giving me a single look. “Before you told him you were fine, he counted those cuts. You should go see the medic.”