Chapter 3

Silver Crescent Pack

The living room was warm with mid-afternoon sun filtering through the tall windows—but all Elani could feel was the weight of Ryan’s eyes on her. She was standing just inches away from him, his hand trailing along her waist with practiced ease. His scent pine and firewood—wrapped around her like a second skin.

“You know,” she whispered, a playful smile tugging at her lips, “someone might walk in.”

Ryan smirked, leaning in until their foreheads touched. “Then we’ll give them a show.”

Before she could come up with a witty comeback, he kissed her. Soft at first, then a little deeper—like he wasn’t in any hurry. She melted into it, her fingers bunching into his shirt. Unfortunately, the universe had other plans.

A loud groan echoed from the hallway. “For Moon’s sake, get a room!”

Elani pulled back just enough to see Tiana standing there with a raised eyebrow and a granola bar halfway to her mouth.

Ryan didn’t look the least bit guilty. “We live here. Every room is ours.”

Tiana rolled her eyes. “If I see tongue, I’m charging rent.”

Elani snorted. “You’re just jealous no one wants to kiss you in the living room.”

“Excuse you,” Tiana said with mock offense. “My mate kisses me respectfully. In private.”

Right on cue, Bryer strolled in behind her, wearing pajama pants and eating an apple. “Correction: I kiss you when you aren’t threatening to bite me.”

“Biting’s a love language,” Tiana replied sweetly.

“Then you must be obsessed with me.”

“Unfortunately.”

Elani leaned into Ryan’s side with a grin. “You two are going to raise the loudest pups.”

Ryan chuckled. “Or the sassiest.”

“We aim for excellence,” Bryer said.

Just then, the front door creaked open. Zyon stepped in, sweat-drenched from training, hair a little tousled, shirt clinging to his frame. He stopped in his tracks, eyeing the cozy mess in front of him. His gaze landed directly on Ryan’s arm still around Elani’s waist.

“Seriously?” Zyon asked flatly. “This what I walk into now? Mating rituals in my living room?”

Elani grinned. “We prefer to call it quality bonding.”

“Call it whatever you want,” Zyon muttered, grabbing a water bottle from the table. “I need bleach for my eyes.”

Bryer raised his apple. “You’re just mad you didn’t catch the good part.”

Zyon pointed the bottle at him. “Keep talking, and you’re running laps tomorrow.”

Bryer instantly held up both hands. “I regret everything.”

Tiana laughed, elbowing him lightly. “That’s a first.”

Zyon was already walking past, muttering under his breath, “This house needs supervision.”

***

Zyon stepped into his room, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. The laughter and teasing from downstairs faded, replaced by the familiar weight of silence. He peeled off his training clothes, dropping them to the floor without a second glance, and walked into the bathroom. The hot water groaned to life, steam slowly creeping up the mirror, fogging it into a blur. He stepped beneath the spray. The water cascaded down Zyon’s back, steam curling through the quiet bathroom. The warmth loosened the tightness in his muscles — but not the ache in his chest.

"The Full Moon was coming. Seven years, seven long years and still, nothing. No sign of you." he whispered in his mind.

His hands braced against the shower wall, droplets trailing down his back, his dark hair slicked to his forehead.

"I’ve searched every territory… every gathering. Every unfamiliar scent on the wind, he thought. Always hoping… always waiting."

"They say she doesn’t exist, his jaw clenched. That I’m chasing a ghost. That maybe she was never born. Or worse-"

He swallowed hard, not letting the thought finish. He couldn’t imagine her gone. Because despite everything…

"I can feel you. I don’t know how, but I do."

"I feel your pain. Always."
"Your anger, your sadness, your grief. It’s like it lives inside me."
"As if your soul bleeds into mine, even across the distance."

The water streamed down his back, slow and steady, like a silent vow from the Moon herself.

"Wherever you are," he thought, gripping the edge of the shower wall, "I’ll find you. Just hold on. Please."

The water streamed down his back like a soft exhale from the Moon itself. And then—

Zyon, come to my study. Now!

The voice slammed into his mind without warning, echoing through the bond like a thunderclap. 

Zyon exhaled slowly, letting the water run for a few more seconds. Then he turned off the tap, reaching for the towel with practiced ease. His movements were unhurried—steady, like someone who didn’t want to leave the silence behind. He dried off and pulled on a simple, comfortable outfit.

Looking into the mirror, he muttered to no one in particular, “Timing was never your strong suit, old man.”

And with that, he left the room and started toward the study, his heart still heavy with the ghost of a promise.

***

The door to the study creaked open, and Zyon stepped inside. His dark hair was still damp from the shower, his expression unreadable.

Jettson sat at the long oak desk, arms folded, gaze steady. “You’re late.”

“I took a shower,” Zyon replied, tone clipped but calm.

Jettson didn’t blink. “The Full Moon is coming. You remember what that means?”

Zyon exhaled slowly, nodding. “I do.”

Jettson’s voice deepened. “You’ve had seven years. The pack has been patient. I’ve been patient. But we can’t wait forever.”

Zyon’s eyes flickered, but he didn’t look away.

“A Luna isn’t just tradition,” Jettson continued. “She’s your balance. Your anchor. She keeps the pack whole through you.”

“I haven’t stopped looking, Dad,” Zyon said quietly. “You know I haven’t.”

“And yet she’s nowhere.” Jettson leaned forward, his tone sharpening. “What if she’s not out there? What if the Moon Goddess has another path for you?”

Zyon stiffened. “What exactly are you trying to say?”

Jettson folded his hands. “The Beta of the Blackthorn Pack, you know him. Loyal bloodline, strong leadership. His only daughter rejected her bond years ago. She’s unmated and she’s willing.”

Zyon’s jaw clenched. “You’re suggesting I take someone who rejected her destined mate and pretend that’s the same?”

“That’s not how this works.”

“Sometimes,” Jettson said evenly, “that’s exactly how it works. Alliances hold packs together. Not wishes. Not fairy tales. Survival depends on strategy.”

Zyon's fists curled at his sides. “I’m not a pawn in some political arrangement.”

“You’re an Alpha,” Jettson replied, rising from his seat. “Which means your personal desires come second to the survival of your people. I’ve invited them for dinner tomorrow. You’ll be there.”

“The Full Moon hasn’t passed yet,” Zyon said coldly. “I still have time.”

“You do,” Jettson agreed. “I haven’t taken that from you. But I’ve made sure you at least meet her. Understand what she brings to the table. You owe your pack that much.”

He paused, voice softening just slightly. “Truth is I don’t believe you’ll find your mate in the next few days. If she were close, she’d have come.”

Zyon’s eyes burned with frustration. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

“Zyon,” Jettson said, firm again, “this isn’t to force you. It’s to prepare you. A Luna can’t be a mystery forever. If she won’t come to you, maybe the Goddess is leading you somewhere else.”

Zyon held his father’s gaze. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll come. But don’t expect me to play nice.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him. Jettson remained seated, arms crossed tightly. His voice came low and sharp, spoken only to the empty room:

“If I must arrange a Luna for my pack, so be it.

But I’ll be damned if I let a threat walk into my home.”