LOGINBrie's POVThe morning light hits my face the moment I push through the boulders. Everything still smells too sharp, sounds too clear. I need to be back before anyone notices I was gone.I count my steps to bring myself back. One, two, three, four, five...The path back to the pack village stretches ahead. I keep my head low.Jackling speaks inside my head. ‘We smell like rock and wind. That's good.’“Stay quiet,” I whisper. “I don't need any more problems today.”The trees thin out. I smell smoke from cooking fires. Voices rise in the distance. I walk faster with my shoulders tight.Every sound makes me pause and a branch snaps behind me. I spin around. No
Brie's POVThe ache under my skin turns sharp. I open my eyes and the sliver of sky above the boulders glows silver.It is time for the full moon.“Eight hours done,” I say. My voice sounds flat in the stone circle. “The shift should start….”Pain hits my spine first. I count fast to keep myself distracted. One breath in. Two hold. Three breath out. Four hold. Five take a deep breath in again. I continue but my bones crack anyway. I bite my lip until blood fills my mouth. The taste is metallic and disgusting.“Stay quiet,” I tell myself. “Pack patrols move at night and sound travels.”My arms twist. Joints pop like dry sticks. I drop to my knees in the dirt. ‘Breath. In. One pulse, Two, Three, Breathe out.’ The pressure builds behind my eyes, throbbing with every heartbeat I count. I see fur pushing through my skin in small pricks. It does not feel like power. It feels like my body is tearing itself open to let something wrong climb out.The last crack echoes through my body. Then eve
Brie's POVI walk for two hours. The forest smells like wet leaves and old bark, which is fine. Better than fine. By the time the trees thin into the deep terrain and the boulders rise out of the ground like grey teeth, the pack is gone from my nose entirely. Just stone, just moss, just the cold off the rock face. My shoulders drop without me telling them to.I leave the festival the way I leave most things. Through a gap nobody is watching, without saying goodbye to anyone, head down until the lanterns are behind me. I do not go looking for Alpha Heir Damien to thank him. He is a variable I cannot control and I have enough of those tonight.I count every hundred steps to keep my mind sharp and away from the ringing in my ears that lingers after the festival’s noise.I reach the deep terrain at the base of the Great Ridge. This is my sanctuary or as close to one as I can get before my eighteenth birthday and my first-shift ceremony.I find the boulder-shielded clearing, it is a space
Damien's POVI feel it before I see it. Someone's hand on her wrist, and something in my chest goes off like a struck bell.I find the source a second later. A young warrior named Kael, blocking her path at the tables, his fingers wrap around her wrist like it belongs to him. Brie keeps her head down, balancing the tray, not pulling away. That stillness costs her something. I know it now.I lean against a thick oak tree, my fingers digging into the rough bark until the wood gives way under my nails.Her movements are fluid, graceful, yet she moves as if she is trying to occupy as little space as possible.Kael laughs. His hand lingers on her wrist and his fingers brush against the sensitive skin I touched only yesterday.Before my mind can catch up to my body, I cross the clearing in two seconds. My boots hit the dirt with light thuds Kael does not hear.He leans closer to Brie, his mouth opening to say something that makes her flinch."Let go of her."My voice sounds foreign, low and
Damien's POVI have been standing here for ten minutes telling myself I am watching the perimeter. The perimeter is fine. The perimeter is not what I am watching.Lanterns swing from every tree branch, throwing warm gold light across the packed road.Music drifts from the center circle where fiddlers saw away at their strings. The whole pack has turned out tonight. Laughter rises and falls around me like waves I can't quite ride.My father moves through the crowd as though he belongs in every conversation. He claps shoulders, tosses back his head when someone tells a joke, and hands out small pouches of coins to the younger families."For the little ones," he says each time, voice smooth and warm. "Snowdon looks after its own."A woman with two small boys at her side takes a pouch and presses it to her heart. "Alpha Dexter, you always know what we need. You are the best Alpha this pack's ever had, truly."I watch her eyes shine up at him and see the same thing in every face nearby. Pu
Brie’s POVMy wrist still feels warm an hour later, which makes no sense, and which I hate.I scrub at it under the cold tap in the wash-house, one of three basins set along the back wall where the omegas line up most evenings to get the day off our hands before curfew. It’s never empty this time of day. Someone’s always rinsing dye out of hair, or soaking a split knuckle, or just standing there long enough to remember what quiet feels like before the dormitory swallows it again. Nobody asks why I’m scrubbing a wrist that isn’t dirty. In a place this small, you learn fast which questions are worth the answer you’ll get.Mabel watches me do it with the patient, knowing look of a woman who has seen a great many girls in this pack try to wash off something that was never on the surface to begin with.“You’re going to take your skin off,” she says.“It won’t stop.”“What won’t.”Two basins down, a younger omega named Sorrel goes very still mid-rinse, not looking at either of us, in the wa







