LOGINShe belonged in my arms.That is what it felt like.Not a thought. Not a decision. Not even something I arrived at.A certainty.Immediate. Unwelcome. Absolute.And entirely wrong.I should not have been there.I knew that.Every instinct I had honed as an Alpha—every boundary I had drawn, every measure of control I had perfected—stood against this moment.And yet—I had followed her.I had been in the middle of drills when I felt it. A shift. Subtle, but enough to fracture my focus. No one else noticed. No one ever did.But I did. I went towards it. I saw her then—at the edge of the grounds, standing beneath the open sky, her face tilted toward the moon at the banks of the waters. But what tugged me was the moisture on her cheeks. She was crying. Something in my chest tightened.Sharp. Unfamiliar. Irritating. The five Ws swirled around my head. I turned away.Forced myself to.This was not my concern.She was not—I took a step.Stopped.Another.And then I realised—I wasn’t le
I take a step, then another, each heavier than the last. It’s as if the night itself clings to me, urging me to stop, but I refuse.“Stop.” His voice follows, closer now, commanding. I ignore it.Another step, and suddenly, my hand is seized—firm, unyielding. A sharp breath escapes me as I’m pulled back, my body turning before I can resist. In the next instant, my back meets the coarse bark of a tree. The world stills, not from the impact, but from him.He stands before me, impossibly close, his presence swallowing the space whole. One arm braces beside my head, caging me in, while the other settles near my waist—an unspoken boundary I can’t cross. I’m enclosed.For a fleeting, bitter moment, it feels achingly familiar. Like every space I’ve ever tried to exist in—no room, no escape. My hands press against his chest, solid and unmoving. He towers over me, warmth radiating from him in quiet waves that clash with the cool night air. His breathing is hard, controlled, but only just.And
“Who’s there?”My voice slices through the silence, steadier than I feel, the wooden branch firm in my grip despite the tremor threatening my fingers.For a heartbeat—nothing.Then—A presence.Not just movement.Presence.Heavy. Commanding. Impossible to ignore.And before I even see him—I feel him.A few steps behind me.I turn sharply, raising the branch—And freeze.“You.”The word leaves me like a breath I didn’t know I was holding.Kael steps out from the shadows, dressed in dark clothes that seem to belong to the night itself. His face is unreadable, but his eyes—They’re on me.Steady.Searching.Too aware.“Why are you here?” he asks.Just like that.No greeting. No pause. Just a question.And something in me—Breaks loose.I let the branch fall from my hand.It hits the ground, but the sound feels distant.“Why?” I repeat, a bitter laugh slipping past my lips as I take a step toward him. “Am I not allowed to be here now?”His brows draw together immediately. “No. That’s not
I don’t remember how I got here.One moment I’m walking—out the back, past the grounds, past the weight of everything that felt like it was closing in on me—and the next, I’m standing at the edge of the forest.And I don’t stop.I keep walking.Branches brush against me, leaves crunch softly beneath my feet, the scent of damp earth wrapping around me like something grounding, something real. The deeper I go, the quieter it gets. Or maybe the noise inside me is just louder.I don’t think.I don’t turn back.I just… move.Until the trees begin to thin and the river reveals itself—quiet, steady, indifferent.I step toward it slowly, my breath uneven, my chest tight in a way I don’t fully understand.Then I sit.Right at the edge, where the land dips slightly before meeting the water a few feet below.And I stay there.Time slips without asking.Minutes. Hours. I don’t know.I don’t track it.It feels like I’ve been placed here deliberately—like some quiet penance the Moon Goddess though
I have never felt this kind of hurt before—quiet, sharp, and humiliating in a way that seeps under your skin and settles where no one can see it.I don’t lift my eyes.Not when she walks toward me. Not when the air thickens with her presence. Not even when I can feel everyone watching.My fingers tighten slightly around the cake box, like it’s the only thing keeping me anchored.Her footsteps stop in front of me.“So,” Lumia says, her voice low, edged, unstable, “do you think you were successful?”I blink.Slowly.Confusion pulls my brows together as I finally look up at her. “What?”Her laugh is hollow.Bitter.“Don’t,” she snaps, her eyes flashing. “Don’t mistake me for a fool, Liora. I know exactly what you must have done.”Something inside me stills.“What are you talking about?” I ask, my voice quieter now, but steady.She steps closer.Too close.“You think I don’t see it?” she continues, her words tumbling over each other, fuelled by something far deeper than anger. “You think
Liora steps into the house with care, the cake balanced gently in her hands as though it carries something fragile beyond its form.The familiar space greets her quietly.Too quietly.Until she sees her.Tessa sits at the dining table, fingers loosely wrapped around a glass, her posture relaxed but her eyes alert. The moment she notices Liora, she looks up—and something soft flickers across her face.She rises immediately.No hesitation.No glance spared elsewhere.Jayden, a step behind Liora, notices.His gaze lingers on Tessa for a fraction longer than necessary—measured, unreadable. There is history there. Not loud, not acknowledged, but present.Tessa does not look at him.Not once.She walks straight to Liora.Liora exhales softly, placing the cake carefully on the table before turning fully toward her. “What are you doing here?” she asks, a quiet smile forming despite the lingering weight of the day.Tessa shrugs, like the answer should be obvious. “I didn’t want your mom to fee







