Move In

CHLOE

Though I shared my brother’s underlying paranoia—knowing that strangers rarely crossed into Blood Moon territory by accident, and that an uninvited outsider at our fence usually meant a scout or a trap, I was always the pragmatist of the family.

​Sitting by the bed and staring down at the fragile female trembling under the sheets, I was certain of one thing: no matter how dangerous an enemy is, a dying soul pulled back from the brink of death would know to appreciate the people who kept their heart beating.

And then when she started to speak, her beautiful hazel eyes held no malice, no deception in them either. I had spent my entire life around politicians, liars, and manipulative Alphas, I know what a wolf on a hidden mission looked like. Rexiana didn't have the cold, calculating posture of a spy. She had the hollow, shattered look of someone who had been broken, expecting every hand raised toward her to carry a strike.

Then Carl walked in, slamming that heavy Alpha tone down and demanding that Marion and I clear the room. I saw the exact second her heart rate spiked into sheer panic. My idiot twin had no idea how to be gentle. He thought he was acting like an imposing leader securing the perimeter, but all he was doing was terrifying an already traumatized female who had barely escaped the pit of hell and was only just trying to catch her breath.

​That guy is really hopeless, I thought, my jaw tightening as I stepped directly into his path, glaring up at his immovable frame.

​I knew he wouldn't actually hurt her, Carl’s honor was the one thing as immovable as his scowl, but his lack of finesse was painful to watch. When I leaned in close to whisper that quick threat into his ear, I caught the faint, barely perceptible twitch in his jaw. He was tight as a coiled spring, radiating an intense, protective heat that he was trying desperately to disguise as territorial suspicion.

​You aren't fooling anyone, brother, I silently smirked as I patted his rock-hard shoulder and strutted out the door behind Marion.

​As the doors clicked shut behind us, leaving the two of them alone in the quiet infirmary, I leaned against the hallway wall and crossed my arms, a slow, satisfied grin spreading across my face.

​Carl could play the cold, unfeeling God of Death all he wanted. But if my instincts were right, that little female wolf in the bed was about to rewrite every single rule my brother had lived by for the last eight years. And I was going to make sure I had a front-row seat for every second of it.

​I knew it was selfish of me to hope, especially when Rexiana was still so broken. But looking at my brother and seeing that faint, flickering spark of life returning to his deadened eyes for the very first time in almost a decade, I couldn't stop the wish blooming in my chest.

​I just hoped that when the dust settled and her physical wounds healed, Rexiana would give Carl a chance. Just one small chance to prove to her that life didn't have to be a nightmare, that there was still sweetness, warmth, and protection left in this world. And in return, maybe, just maybe, her gentle presence could pull my brother out of the suffocating darkness he'd been living in for eight years. They both needed healing so desperately.

REXIANA

After that initial, heart-stopping encounter with the Alpha, I didn't see him again for two full days. I never asked about him, deliberately keeping my mouth shut—though Chloe casually mentioned he was buried under a mountain of pack business.

It was hard to believe that Alpha Carl and Chloe were even related. If Carl was a raging, suffocating fire, Chloe was cool as ice, and besides their sharp, commanding presence, there was little physical resemblance between the twins. But meeting Chloe felt like the greatest stroke of good fortune in my ruined life. She seemed to always know just what to say to make me feel safe, anchoring me when the ground beneath my feet threatened to give way.

Yet, despite the quiet days spent recovering, my mind kept drifting back to that first afternoon. I couldn't forget the way the air had tightened when he stood over my bed, or how, right in the middle of his intense interrogation, Iris had piped up out of nowhere.

​‘He smells divine. I wonder what his abs would feel like to the touch,’ my wolf had purred shamelessly in the back of my mind, a rich, greedy sound that sent a blistering wave of heat straight to my cheeks.

​I nearly choked on my own spit. Why on earth was she bringing that up right in the middle of a deadly serious conversation? My body was barely stitched back together from the trauma of the severance, and I was sitting across from the most feared Alpha in the region. If Carl ever caught a whiff of what was running through my mind while he stood there looking down at me, I might as well dig my own grave right then and there.

​"Are you listening to me, Rexiana?" Chloe’s voice broke through my frantic internal panic, snapping me back to the present.

​I blinked, realizing I had been staring blankly at the tray of lukewarm soup Marion had left me. "I—yes. Sorry. My mind wandered."

​Chloe leaned against the doorframe of the infirmary room, a knowing, amused glint dancing in her eyes. She had spent the last hour filling me in on how the pack operated, casually weaving in pack history while keeping a close eye on my recovery. But I could tell her mind was working a mile a minute.

​​"Wandered, or are you worried the Alpha would kick you out?" Chloe teased, crossing her arms over her chest with a lopsided grin.

​"No. It's just... I'm mostly healed now, and I think I should start getting ready to leave before I overstay my welcome."

​"Nonsense. No one is chasing you away," Chloe shot back, her tone brooking no argument. "And if Marion and I say you need more days to recover, then you need more days to recover."

​I swallowed hard, pulling the thin cotton blanket tighter around my shoulders. "But I brought trouble to his doorstep. After... after what happened the other day, I'm just sorry I dragged your pack into this mess. I'll speak to Marion about my discharge so I can get going."

​Chloe’s playful demeanor instantly evaporated, replaced by a fierce, protective intensity that felt startlingly like her brother's. She pushed off the doorframe and walked over, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

​"Listen to me, Rex," Chloe said softly, capturing my gaze with absolute sincerity. "You didn't bring trouble to us. Even if you hadn't crossed our border, Blood Moon and Red Ridge were bound to clash eventually—that wasn't your fault. Whatever brought you to our woods, whether it was pure fate or blind luck, you belong here as long as you need to heal. Carl isn't angry at you. He's angry at the world, and right now, he's channeling every ounce of that lethal energy into making sure no one ever touches you again." She paused, her eyes softening. "Everyone in the pack thinks the Alpha has gone mad anyway. He’s spent the last forty-eight hours locked in his office or running patrols along the northern border like a caged animal."

​My breath hitched. No one touches you again.

​Before I could process the heavy, fluttering warmth blooming in my chest, heavy, purposeful footsteps echoed down the stone corridor outside. The air in the room suddenly shifted, growing noticeably heavier, the oxygen thinning as an overwhelming wave of pine, dark earth, and crushed rain rolled through the doorway.

​Chloe straightened up immediately, a sharp, knowing smirk playing on her lips. "Speak of the devil."

​The heavy door pushed open, and Alpha Carl filled the frame. ​He looked every bit the God of Death the neighboring packs whispered about in fearful, hushed tones. His tall, broad frame was clad in a dark, fitted tunic that strained against the hard lines of his chest and shoulders, and his sharp jawline was shadowed by a day's worth of dark stubble. But it was his eyes that locked onto me instantly—burning amber, fierce, and entirely consuming.

​"Chloe," he barked, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that sent a shiver straight down my spine. "Leave us."

​Chloe didn't flinch. She slowly pushed herself off the edge of the mattress, offering her brother an unbothered, testing look. "Be nice, brother. She was just telling me how much she appreciates our hospitality."

​Carl didn't dignify that with a response, only shifting his terrifying glare toward her until Chloe finally rolled her eyes, patted my shoulder reassuringly, and sauntered past him out into the hall.

​As the door clicked shut behind her, the silence in the room became suffocating. Carl stepped inside, the sheer physical presence of him making the small infirmary feel impossibly cramped. He didn't sit down. Instead, he stopped a few feet from the bed, his dark gaze raking over my face, scanning every inch of me as if checking to ensure I hadn't dissolved into thin air over the last two days.

​"You're awake," he stated, though it sounded less like a question and more like a low, grounding growl.

​"Yes, Alpha," I whispered, my throat tightening as I instinctively pulled the blanket higher. "I... thank you again. For everything. Chloe said you've been busy, I didn't mean to—"

​"Quiet, Rexiana," he interrupted, his tone harsh, yet stripped of any genuine malice.

​He took another slow step forward, the scent of crushed pine and winter rain wrapping around me entirely, suffocating every other thought in my head.

​‘Told you,’ Iris purred greedily in the back of my mind, practically preening. 'Look at him, imagine how those large hands .'

​I squeezed my eyes shut for a fraction of a second, silently pleading with my traitorous wolf to shut up, terrified that the sheer heat rushing to my face would betray me.

​When I opened my eyes again, Carl was standing right beside the bed, looking down at me with an intensity that made my heart hammer wildly against my ribs.

CARL

For forty-eight hours, I had convinced myself that keeping my distance was the smart, rational play. I had poured over Marion’s daily charts detailing her rapid, inexplicable healing, telling myself I was just monitoring a pack guest. But the reality was far more pathetic: I had spent the last two days pacing the corridors outside the infirmary wing just to catch the faint, intoxicating drift of rain and sweet sugar seeping under the door.

​Every instinct I possessed screamed at me to cut my losses. She was another pack's reject, carrying baggage heavy enough to ignite a war, and the mere concept of a "second-chance mate" was a curse I had sworn to reject the day I buried Fiona and our pup.

​Yet, standing here now, looking down at her wide, trembling eyes, every carefully built wall I had spent eight years erecting felt like wet paper.

​If she wanted to leave, I would pack her bags, drive her to the edge of our territory, and hand her over to the storm—because keeping her here meant playing with fire. But if she gave me even the slightest reason to keep her... God help me, I would burn the world down before I let her walk out of these doors.

​"Are you able to move now?" I blurted out, my voice coming out harsher than intended.

​Idiot. I had read her recovery logs three times this morning. I knew down to the exact milligram how fast her cellular regeneration was working.

​She blinked, clearly thrown off by the aggressively stupid question. Slowly, she pushed the cotton blanket back, her pale legs sliding over the edge of the mattress as she tested her weight.

​"I... yes," she murmured, her voice soft and hesitant, laced with a quiet defiance that made my chest tighten. "Marion said my strength is coming back faster than normal. I will be leaving as soon as Marion cleared me, Alpha."

"I didn't mean you should leave right now." I muttered, jaw tightening.

"You—you said I could leave once I made a full recovery," she whispered, her chin trembling slightly as she fought to keep her composure. "I figured..."

​"You figured wrong," I interrupted, my voice dropping into a low, dangerous register as I closed the distance between us. I didn't stop until I was standing right at the edge of her bed. "I believe my sister already told you that you can stay as long as you desire. Besides, do you even have a place to go once you walk out of these doors?"

​It was a completely logical question—one I had turned over in my mind a hundred times. I had initially convinced myself I would throw her into a car and drop her off in the nearest human town, but that was before she had spent four days seeping into the air of my pack land. Now, looking at her, I realized with terrifying clarity that I didn't actually want her gone at all.

​"I could go somewhere far away for a fresh start. A place where no one knows me," she said in a small, tentative voice after weighing her bleak options.

​"That isn't safe," I countered, struggling to keep my tone level and rational. "You could wander straight into hostile territory out there, or worse, run into some really mean wolf."

​‘The only mean wolf she’s ever going to run into is you, you big dummy,’ Hunter mumbled derisively in the back of my mind. I seriously couldn't tell if my wolf was supposed to be my inner voice or an antagonistic roommate actively working against me.

​She tilted her head, looking up at me quizzically, caught off guard by the sudden shift in my argument.

​"Okay, then... I suppose I can stay a few more days, if the Alpha permits," she finally conceded, her shoulders slumping in a mix of resignation and relief.

​Without meaning to, I let out a massive breath, the heavy, suffocating band around my chest instantly loosening. She was staying. She had chosen to stay. Even though I knew I had deliberately engineered every word to back her into that exact corner, a profound, victorious heat rushed through my veins.

​"Good," I said, striving to keep my composure intact. "Then I'll have Marion process your discharge papers, and you can move out of the medical wing and into the main packhouse."

​The moment the words left my mouth, her expression shifted entirely. Her face drained of color, her eyes widening in sheer, unadulterated horror.

​I froze, my triumph instantly evaporating. What in the Goddess's name did I say wrong this time?