When the Moon Watches

Lyra's POV

I stood close to the window, my fingers grazing the cool glass. The faint glow of the moon shimmered across the perfectly mowed lawn. I could barely make out its outline, but it was enough to remind me of what I’d lost—and what little I still had.

A warm hand settled on my shoulder, steady and familiar. I didn’t flinch; I knew that touch too well. Kendrick.

He leaned closer, his breath brushing the back of my neck. “Why aren’t you in bed yet?” he asked softly, close enough that I wouldn’t miss a word.

I exhaled, the sound was colder than I intended.

Kendrick’s fingers moved gently through my hair, smoothing it back. He twisted a strand like he always did when he wanted to distract me, then pressed his lips against the curve of my neck. Usually, I’d laugh or nudge him away. Tonight, I stood still.

He noticed. He always noticed.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, pausing against my skin. “Talk to me, Lyra. What’s wrong?”

I swallowed hard. Words pressed against my throat, but silence was the only thing that made it past my lips.

He turned me slightly; I couldn’t make out the tilt of his head or the expression on his face—vision reduced everything to soft edges—but I felt the intensity in the way his hand steadied my chin. “It’s not like you stay this quiet. Tell me.”

I hesitated, then asked the question gnawing at me. “Did you know? That my mother was planning to bring my sister here? That she wants her to stay with us?”

His brows drew together, and the pause in his breath betrayed him before his words did.

“She only means well,” he said gently, leaning so close I could feel the rhythm of his words against my ear. “She thinks it will relieve you of some stress.”

I turned away, biting back the sharp laugh that almost escaped. Relieve me? Or remind me, every single day, of how weak I’d become? I'd always wanted to get along with my sister, but she'd always turn me down. A part of her wouldn't forgive me because I married the Alpha's son; someone she had her eyes on for a very long time.

“I told her I’d get back to her,” I whispered. “I walked away. I couldn’t… I couldn’t even process it.” My chest tightened, and I pressed my palm against the glass as though the cold might ground me.

Kendrick placed his hand over mine, his warmth swallowing the coldness which had settled on me. “Lyra, listen to me. She means well.” He repeated himself a fraction louder when I didn’t answer at once, careful to enunciate so my faded hearing could catch him.

I shook my head. “You don’t understand.”

They don’t always understand. She was always the person who competed with me. Every single thing I ever did, she had to do it better. And now, she’ll see me like this—blind, half-deaf, and helpless.

“You won’t understand.”

“Make understand,” he urged me, leaning in so his words landed like a hand on my shoulder.

I’d wanted to tell him everything, but I feared he might feel that I don’t trust him. He has been nothing but loyal the past few years. I doubted if he’d change overnight and I’d lose him.

“I’m afraid she might win,” I said with a resigned fight.

“Win what?” His voice was firm now, almost scolding. He spoke close enough that the faint syllables reached me. “Lyra, there’s nothing to win. You’re my Luna. My wife. The only woman who owns my heart. Do you hear me?”

I pressed my lips together. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to drown in his certainty the way I always had. But somewhere deep down, a whisper echoed in my head: What if she takes everything? What if even Kendrick isn’t immune to her?

He tilted my chin toward him, forcing me to meet the intensity in his expression—though I couldn’t see it clearly, I felt it in the set of his jaw and the warmth of his breath. “You don’t need to worry about her. Or anyone else. I won’t let them take anything from you. Plus, this might be an opportunity for you to mend things with her, don't you think?”

I nodded, though the weight in my chest refused to lift. He guided me away from the window, his arm wrapped protectively around me.

“Come,” he said softly. “You need rest. You don’t have any reason to worry.”

As he settled me on the bed, pressing a kiss to my forehead, I closed my eyes. His voice was steady, reassuring. His hands were gentle.

Of course, I had every damn reason to be worried. We were barely sleeping on the soft mattress when Kendrick’s deep voice sliced through the air.

“Who’s there?” he asked.

I didn't hear what he said next. The bed creaked under his weight as he walked to the door, my eyes fluttering open. I sat upright, clutching the bedsheets on my bare chest.

“Is anyone there, Kendrick?” I asked calmly.

My useless eyes scanned the dimly lit room, the bulb flickering on. Kendrick had turned the bulb on so that I'd see the figure approaching me.

“Lyra,” a feminine voice called. It was unmistakably my sister's. Her fingers graced my skin, her scent filling my nose, as a feeling of nostalgia rushed down my spine.

She leaned closer, just so that I could hear her.

“Lyra,” she spoke calmly, loud enough. “I… I'm really sorry for whatever happened in the past, Lyra. I've not been the perfect sister and I know you are still upset with me, but,” she paused, letting the words sink in. “I want to make things right between us. I want you to… let me in.”

My lips pressed into a thin line, and I stilled my breath. For a moment, my ears rang with silence. Could I trust this softness in her voice? Or was it another performance? The ache in me didn’t care—it had waited too long to hear these words.

Tears trickled down my eyes before I could stop them. I dragged her closer, my arms wrapping around her trembling frame, holding her like I was afraid she might vanish.

“I forgive you,” I mumbled, planting a shaky kiss on her chin. The words scraped raw from my throat, but they were true.

For the first time in years, my chest that once tightened each time she got close loosened. I let out a ragged sigh, clinging to the illusion that maybe, just maybe, things could change.

And as her arms returned my embrace, I didn’t notice how still her body was—how carefully her breath measured against mine. I only felt the warmth of the sister I had longed for my whole life.

The next few days passed in a blur.

Roselle played her role perfectly. Sweet. Helpful. Always rushing to my side before I even asked. She tied my laces, combed my hair, even fed me once when she thought no one was looking.

Well, I was convinced that she has changed. Changed for good.

Everything was going smoothly till the day I'd felt bored. The house was almost empty and the silence that engulfed the atmosphere stretched, pressing heavy on my chest.

I knew the way around the house like the back of my palm. My feet hit the cold marble floor, moving out of my room and down to Roselle's room. I'd wanted her presence to kill the boredom, maybe spend the rest of the day listening to her stories. She was a good storyteller like mum.

The knob was cold under my palm, and I twisted it, the hinges creaking as the door yanked open.

“Roselle?” I called, a smile tugging at the side of my lips. But all I got was silence.

My eyes darted around the room and I struggled to make out the features. I traced my step into the room, and just then, I perceived it.

A weird scent hit my nostrils. I knew what the was. Wolf bane.

The scent was always impossible to subdue; once it was in a surrounding everyone would know.

A part of me wanted to walk out of the room and wait till she returned before questioning why she had a wolf bane, but the other part wanted me to find out what that was meant for.

I took a deep breath, slowly closing the door beside me. Thankfully, my nostrils weren't as effective as before; the sickness didn't affect them.

I took a deep breath and followed the scent, my feet halting in front of the wooden table.

My heartbeat increased as I leaned closer, my eyes straining against the shadows, my fingers brushing across the wooden surface until they landed on the bottles. It was smooth, cylindrical, and familiar. My pulse quickened.

I lifted one to my nose, my fingers shaking as I uncorked the bottle. The scent was identical to the hospital drugs, the same bitter pills I'd swallowed day after day. Only now, standing here, something felt wrong.

I took a deep inhale, and I perceived the scent of wolf bane; the acidic scent assaulted my nostrils and my eyes widened in horror, the bottle slipping off my grip and slamming on the floor. I stumbled backwards, my knees weakening as my heart slammed hard on my chest. Sweat beaded down my temples, my lips trembling.

I'd been taught of the effects of wolf bane in drugs since childhood. It reversed the purpose of a drug. If a drug was meant to heal, wolf bane would make it destroy you from the inside.

My sweaty palms clamped my lips, preventing a gasp from escaping.

Why didn't I notice? I'd been blinded by trust. I'd trusted her after her apology. I always did, and each time I did, I got nothing short of back stab.

“Dear Luna goddess,” I muttered, tears spilling down my eyes, my throat tightening.

The pills weren't supposed to cure me. They were meant to poison me. To worsen the situation till I become entirely useless.

I wanted to scream, but I stood frozen in place, hot tears rolling down my eyes.

Just then, I heard footsteps.