Callum

Ace had been a nightmare all week.

My wolf was usually a quiet thing—controlled, disciplined, a blade sheathed under skin until I needed it. But tonight? He was pacing behind my ribs like a caged storm looking for somewhere to break.

Go back.

The command cracked through me as I stepped out of the shower in Crescent Pack’s guest suite. Steam curled over obsidian tiles. The ancient wards carved into the stone glowed faintly beneath my feet, silver sigils pulsing in time with the pack’s heartbeat.

The Crescent Packhouse shared the same bones as every old Lycandran stronghold—blackened pine beams, ceilings etched in lunar runes, high windows carved wide so both moons could spill silver across the floors. But Crescent had something extra in its bones. Fae glyphs lined the beams. Drakon fire-brands slept under the floorboards. The whole place was a knot in the Accord’s magical web.

The wards weren’t decoration. They watched. They remembered. They reacted.

I dragged a towel through my hair and already knew what waited on the other side of the door.

I was right.

Serena sprawled across my bed like she’d been staged there by someone who choreographed seductions for a living. Moonlight polished every curve she wanted noticed. Her lips parted on a practiced breath.

“Alpha,” she purred, letting the title drip like oil. “Since you’re leaving tomorrow… let me give you a proper send-off.”

Pathetic.

I’d endured this routine too many times in too many territories—she-wolves with famous last names and nothing else, hoping proximity to power would turn into permanence. A night in an Alpha’s bed was a trophy for them. For me? Background noise.

Ace’s snarl ripped through my chest.

Not her. Wrong. Save it for the one.

The beams above us pulsed—the silver veins in the wood glowing brighter as my dominance rose. Even Crescent’s wards bowed, bending like tall grass in wind. Serena’s breath hitched. Instinct never lies. Wolves always know when they’re standing in front of something that can destroy them.

I moved toward her slowly.

Deliberate was my weapon. Seth was reckless fire, Rory was charm and calculation, Jaxon was a blade in the dark. Me? Stillness.

Stillness scares people more than shouting ever will.

Two strides and my shadow swallowed her whole. Her confidence cracked.

“Sweetheart,” I said, voice low as I tangled a hand in her hair and pulled her chin up until her pulse fluttered under my thumb. “If you want to play, you follow my rules.”

Fear flashed fast. Obedience replaced it. Instinct always wins.

Ace clawed harder.

She is not it.

He was right. No tether. No spark. No anchor. Lust wearing purpose like a cheap dress.

But the ache had been gnawing at me for years. Waiting wears even stone thin.

I leaned in, breath brushing her ear.

“On your knees.”

The moonstone inlays flared in response, the lattice of wards pricking against my skin. She obeyed instantly.

And right then, cold certainty locked in my chest.

This wasn’t her.

But soon—when the right scent hit me, when the bond punched through my ribs—the wards would answer. Ace would go silent. The ache would snap into place like the last click of a lock.

The Luna Ace was howling for.

The night air hit like ice on overheated skin.

I leaned on the balcony rail, staring down at the forest spread beneath us like a black ocean. Twin moons washed silver over the canopy; border wards hummed a low, ancient rhythm from the treeline.

My wolf paced inside my skull—claws dragging, breath hot.

Go back.

Back where? To who?

Metal groaned under my grip as iron warped. I hadn’t slept more than a few hours in days. Distractions didn’t work anymore. Not sparring. Not she-wolves. Not whiskey.

The absence burned too loud. Whoever she was—wherever she was—my wolf howled for her like she’d been carved out of him.

My phone buzzed.

Aria.

“Baby,” she cooed. “I miss you. Your Alpha ceremony’s soon—we should go shop for my dress—”

“No.”

Silence. I could practically hear the pout.

“Pick something,” I said. “Send the bill.”

I hung up and let the cold bite at my skin.

Door creaked. Seth and Rory walked in like trouble wearing matching faces.

“That the she-devil?” Seth asked, stealing a grape like he paid rent here.

“Let me guess,” Rory said, collapsing onto the couch. “She wants a private tour of every boutique in the capital. Again.”

I didn’t answer.

Because the problem wasn’t Aria. It wasn’t any of the she-wolves who threw themselves at us.

It was her.

The ghost my wolf hunted through my sleep. The scent that would gut me the moment I breathed it in. The girl whose absence had become a physical wound.

My phone buzzed again.

Lila.

“Jaxon! You’re back tomorrow, right? Party Friday—you’re coming.”

“Yeah.”

“Good! Love you!”

I actually smiled. Lila had that effect. She was one of the few people who never expected more from me than I could give.

I looked out over the pines.

Beyond our borders, realms pulsed with their own magic—Valoria’s starlit rivers, Drakonis’s fire-veined mountains, Lycan’Dra’s law-bright marble halls. The Accord wove them together.

We enforced it when others forgot.

But none of it meant anything without her.

Lila already had her mate-bond. Theo wore his like armour.

We were still starving.

My wolf snarled again—deep, raw.

The wards flickered in answer, like the magic tasted my want and echoed it.

Ours, Blaze growled.

“Soon,” I muttered back.

Even though the wait was killing me.

Jax brooded on the balcony like a statue sculpted for intimidation.

Me? I made a list.

Not of names—boring. Reactions. Now those were interesting.

Our mate would roll her eyes when I pushed her buttons. She’d mutter “asshole” and blush when she shouldn’t. She wouldn’t want a crown—she’d want us. Me. My chaos. My sharpness. The part of me everyone else pretended wasn’t there.

Scar prowled inside my ribs—feral, impatient. Worse than me or the reason I was worse. Hard to tell.

I kicked my boots up on the table because Callum wasn’t here to glare me into pretending I had manners.

“Let’s finish the rogue briefs,” I said. “Dad wants Crescent squared away before we leave.”

Rory groaned like someone stabbed his fashion sense. “Paperwork? I’d rather sprint at a rogue nest with a steak tied to my throat.”

Jax huffed a humourless laugh. “You’d enjoy that.”

Rory flipped him off without breaking posture. I barked a laugh.

Family bonding.

The wards hummed low under the floorboards—old sigils glowing warmer than usual, like something brushed against them.

A warning.

A promise.

She’s coming.

I didn’t know how I knew. I just knew. The certainty pressed behind my sternum until the runes brightened again in answer.

Couldn’t tell the others. Not yet. Not without proof.

If I was wrong, I’d crack something between us that couldn’t be fixed.

People liked pretending the mate-pull wasn’t real. That the Moon sometimes forgot you.

They hadn’t seen Lila collapse into Theo’s arms the day their tether snapped into place.

Scar raked claws across my ribs.

He didn’t want nameless bodies. He wanted her. The girl who’d glare when I teased her and soften when I didn’t. The one who’d hate how fast she reacted, then stop pretending she did.

She was out there.

And when she stepped into our air?

Game over.

Ours.

The corridor breathed silver.

Lunar runes pulsed along the plaster seams—old magic synced to our wolves, gifted by Valoria after the Accord to keep our temper from knocking down the structural integrity.

Serena swept past us in a silk robe that was definitely worn for maximum “oops, did this slip?” effect. Jax’s lip curled.

“Guess Cal’s still breaking hearts,” I said.

“If I had a dollar for every she-wolf he’s rejected,” Seth muttered, stealing another grape—

“We’d own another island,” I finished.

“Think bigger,” Seth said. “Human double-decker plane. Snacks at 30,000 feet.”

I snorted. “Alpha dominance served with pretzels. Hot.”

We stepped into Callum’s suite.

The scent hit first—sex, whiskey, frustration. Moonstone flames flickered in the hearth, shadows wrapping around Cal like they belonged there.

He sat in the armchair like judgment incarnate. Jaw clenched. Eyes dark enough to bottle a storm.

“Judging by your face,” I said, leaning on the doorframe, “she either proposed with a PowerPoint… or asked to start a small army.”

He shot me a glare sharp enough to skin a man. “Both.”

I whistled. “Tragic.”

Jax poured himself whiskey. Seth sprawled like gravity didn’t apply to him.

Callum hurled his empty glass. Seth caught it without looking, smirk deepening.

Pack life.

Cal inhaled once—slow, measured—and the storm inside him shuttered back behind his ribs. For now.

“Tomorrow,” he said quietly, “we leave for Ridge Storm.”

I cocked my head. “And?”

The air shifted. My teeth buzzed.

Ace pushed against his skin so hard the sigils in the walls pulsed bright silver.

“I think we’re going to find her,” Callum said.

Everything in my body went still.

Jax’s posture snapped sharp. Seth’s wolf surfaced behind his eyes.

“You sure?” Jax asked.

Cal nodded once. “I can feel it.”

Seth blew out a breath. “Well, fuck.”

Heat rolled through me.

Years of waiting. Years of pacing wolves. Years of bodies that never fit the shape of what we were missing.

Now the shape felt close.

Close enough to breathe.

Close enough to claim.

She was out there.

And when she stepped into our gravity?

She wouldn’t drift.

What we were scared people.

What we were with her?

That would make the wards sing.

And when the Supremes and the Triplet Kings demanded to know why the bond resonance spiked, I’d say it with a smile:

The Moon finally answered.