CHAPTER TWO: MATING DREAMS AND MOONLIT HOPES

SAMANTHA’S POV

The moon had always been my one constant. It hung above me like a guardian, casting its silver light over a world where I felt unseen. When laughter mocked me, when whispers branded me cursed, when hope curled like a dying leaf inside my chest—the moon stayed. Watching. Silent. Endless.

Tonight, I lay in the meadow beyond the Crescent Moon Pack house, the grass cool beneath my back, my gaze locked on that swollen orb in the sky. My fingers dug into the earth, grounding myself against the ache pressing at my chest.

I couldn’t sleep again. Not when tomorrow would change everything.

Not when Elias was coming home.

The thought of his name pulled a tangle of memories through me—his boyish grin, the way he’d chase the others away when they circled me with cruel words, the way he’d press stolen berries into my hand and whisper, “You’re not broken, Sammy. You’re mine.”

I clutched at those fragments, even as the years had chipped them into something fragile. Even as doubt whispered that boys grew into men, and men forgot childish promises.

But the heart is a foolish thing. And mine had never stopped waiting.

Sleep stole me at last, but it brought no peace.

The dream returned.

I stood barefoot in a forest bathed in moonlight, the air humming like it knew a secret. Ahead of me, at the edge of a cliff, stood the man.

Not Elias.

Never Elias.

His back was to me, tall and broad, his dark hair lifted by the wind. His very presence seemed carved from grief, shadow clinging to him like armor. I had seen him five times now—always here, always silent, always burning with a loneliness so raw it felt like it could cut me open.

“Who are you?” My voice trembled, carried by the night.

He didn’t turn.

The silence thickened. The forest itself bent toward him, as though the world strained to hear his answer.

I stepped closer. “Please. Tell me.”

Still nothing.

I reached for him, my fingers brushing the air between us—so close to touching. And then the ground crumbled. The cliff gave way beneath me, and I fell, weightless into darkness.

I woke with a gasp, heart hammering against my ribs, my skin slick with sweat.

The dream man lingered in my mind, his silence louder than words. I pressed my palm to my chest, breathing through the ache.

It didn’t matter. Tomorrow Elias would return, and with him, my chance at belonging.

The moon could keep its secrets.

Morning broke with a restless hum inside the pack house. The halls vibrated with footsteps and laughter, whispers curling like smoke through the air. Elias’s name was on every tongue.

I carried a tray of herbs to the kitchen, but even here the chatter pulsed. Warriors lingered near the doorway, their voices rising with excitement.

“Alpha’s son is finally back.”

“Royal Alpha training—can you imagine the strength he’ll bring to Crescent Moon?”

“He’ll set things right. He’ll lead us.”

Their faith in him was palpable, almost suffocating. It made me both proud and terrified.

Luna Marie looked up from the hearth as I entered, her face pale but her smile warm. She’d grown weaker with the seasons, her illness tightening its grip, but her spirit hadn’t dimmed.

“There you are, little leaf,” she said softly. “You look like you didn’t sleep.”

I forced a small smile. “I kept dreaming.”

“About him?”

Heat prickled my cheeks. She didn’t need to say his name. She knew.

I busied myself arranging the herbs on the counter. “The whole pack is talking about him.”

“And you’re afraid to hope too much,” she finished for me.

I froze, throat tight. Luna Marie always saw through me. Always.

She reached across the counter, her hand light on mine. “Samantha, Elias was a boy when he left. Boys change. You can’t build your worth on the memory of his promises.”

“But he promised,” I whispered, the words torn from some deep, aching place.

Her eyes softened. “Then let him show you who he is now. And whatever happens… remember this—you are not less, no matter what he decides.”

I swallowed hard, unable to answer. Because the truth was, everything inside me was tangled around him. If Elias didn’t choose me—what was left?

The day dragged and flew all at once. By evening, the pack had gathered near the gates. The air buzzed like the forest before a storm. Wolves crowded shoulder to shoulder, warriors standing tall, omegas clutching baskets of welcome. Even children fidgeted with excitement, their voices shrill as they begged to see the Alpha’s heir.

I stood at the back, clutching the silver chain at my neck—the chain Elias had given me before he left. My fingers traced the cool metal, my stomach twisting.

Rose and her sisters were near the front, their dresses pressed, their hair braided with ribbons. Mila’s laugh rang like a bell as she leaned into a warrior, whispering about how handsome Elias was sure to be.

Their eyes flicked back to me once, sharp and gleaming. I turned away.

Please, I thought. Please remember me. Please let everything change tonight.

A horn sounded.

The crowd hushed.

Dust rose on the road beyond the gates. My breath hitched as a black SUV emerged, rolling toward us with deliberate speed. Not a horse. Not the boy who used to run barefoot through the meadows with me. This was different. This was something sharp, controlled.

The vehicle slowed. Stopped.

The door opened.

And Elias stepped out.

The breath rushed from my lungs.

He was broader, taller, every line of him carved into strength. His dark hair fell neatly, his jaw sharper than I remembered. His shoulders bore the weight of training, of command. He moved with the confidence of a man who knew exactly what he was—and who everyone else expected him to be.

The pack erupted in cheers.

But my eyes fixed only on his.

For a heartbeat, the world stilled. His gaze swept across the crowd, sharp and assessing. I waited for the flicker of recognition, for the warmth I remembered, for that boyish grin that had once been mine.

It didn’t come.

His gaze slid over me—paused—then moved on, cold as winter.

My chest hollowed.

“Elias Lockwood has returned!” Beta Triston’s voice thundered.

The crowd roared, the sound deafening. Wolves surged forward, reaching for their heir, desperate to touch him, to claim him as theirs.

I stood frozen, the chain cutting into my palm.

He was here. He was home.

But he wasn’t mine.

The crowd swelled around him, pulling him toward the pack house. I tried to follow, heart pounding, but the crush of bodies was too tight. Warriors pressed forward, the Gamma daughters darting in with laughter and fluttering lashes. He allowed it, his expression unreadable, his posture calm.

It was like watching a stranger wear the face of the boy I’d loved.

At last, as the crowd thinned near the steps of the pack house, he looked back. His eyes found mine.

The world fell silent.

Something flickered there—recognition, yes, but also something else. Something that made my skin prickle. His gaze was heavy, unreadable, pulling me into it until I forgot how to breathe.

He stepped closer. Just enough that his voice reached me, low and steady, meant for no one else.

“You shouldn’t have waited for me.”

The words sliced through me.

Before I could respond, before I could even breathe, he turned away, the pack swallowing him whole.

And I was left standing at the edge of the crowd, my heart splintering, the chain burning against my skin.