Moonlight And Mysteries

Later, after the meal had finally wound down and the pack had dispersed in various directions—Anna found herself on a stone balcony overlooking the eastern grounds.

The moon hung heavy and bright, three days past full but still commanding. Cold air bit at her skin, carrying the scent of pine and distant snow. She wrapped her arms around herself, breathing deep, letting the crisp air fill her lungs. 

Freedom. 

When was the last time she'd felt this? Standing under an open sky, no bars, no guards, no eyes watching for signs of guilt she didn't carry? The wind tugged at her hair, and for just a moment, she let herself feel small against the vastness of the night. Small, but not trapped, never trapped again.

"Brightest night after a Supermoon,"

 came a voice behind her, smooth and unhurried. "I must say, quite the view."

Anna's heart jumped—she hadn't heard him approach, hadn't caught his scent on the wind. She spun to find Jebediah standing a few paces back, two wine glasses in one hand, a bottle in the other. His expression was soft, unguarded, those storm-grey eyes reflecting moonlight like still water.

"You missed the Blood Moon festivities, you know,"   he continued, moving to lean against the balcony rail beside her. The stone was ancient, worn smooth by generations of hands. "Biggest celebration of the year. You don't get to see it all the time ; Music, hunts, the works. Isabeau outdid herself with the decorations—made the whole estate look like something out of a fairy tale."

"Yeah, I was having the nicest death nap in a snowbank at the time,"

 Anna replied, matching his light tone even as the memory sent a chill through her that had nothing to do with the temperature. "Really rejuvenating. Highly recommend it for when you need to get away from it all. Five stars."

Jebediah's laugh was genuine, rich and warm. It was the kind of laugh that made you want to join in, that carried no mockery, only appreciation for the absurdity of survival. He poured deep red wine into both glasses, the liquid catching the moonlight like liquid rubies.

 "Hope you don't mind," he said, offering her one. "Cool evening, good company—seemed like the right time for a drink." He raised his glass slightly. "To your life and health. To second chances we don't deserve but get anyway."

Anna accepted the glass, the stem cool against her fingers. She clinked it gently against his, the crystal singing out a single clear note that hung in the air between them.

 "To life. To health. To... whatever comes next." She paused. "Though I'm hoping 'what comes next' involves significantly fewer near-death experiences."

"I'll drink to that," Jebediah said with a grin.

The wine was rich and complex, with layers of flavor that unfolded across her tongue—dark cherry, hints of oak, something earthy and ancient. The finish tasted like autumn and time itself. She closed her eyes, savoring it, letting the warmth spread through her chest.

"Tastes ancient, right?"

 JB watched her reaction with evident satisfaction. "We've had that vintage aging for about a century. My great-grandfather put it down before the Great War, said it would be ready when the right moment came." 

His eyes flicked down briefly, just for a heartbeat. "Not too strong for the little one, I hope?"

Anna's hand froze halfway to setting the glass down. Her other hand drifted instinctively to her belly, fingers splaying protectively over the slight curve hidden beneath her borrowed clothes.

"I noticed the heartbeat, during dinner"

 Jebediah said quietly. No judgment in his tone, no calculation—just simple fact, stated as gently as if he were commenting on the weather. "The healer confirmed it too,  at the clinic," He shifted his weight, looking suddenly uncertain in a way she hadn't seen from him before. "I'm sorry—should that have been confidential? I apologize if I've intruded on something private."

"No, it's..."

     Anna set the glass down carefully on the stone ledge, watching the wine shimmer in the moonlight. "It's fine. I almost forgot about it myself , with everything that happened. Isn't that terrible? To forget you're carrying a life?" Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. "What kind of mother forgets?"

"The kind who's been fighting just to survive," Jebediah said firmly. "The kind who's had to be strong for herself before she could be strong for anyone else. Don't mistake survival for callousness, Anna. You're here, you're breathing, that baby's heartbeat is strong and steady. That's what matters."

Anna looked at him, really looked at him—this Alpha who spoke of century-old wine and found ways to make her feel less broken with every word. 

"How far along?" he asked gently.

"Four months, two weeks. Give or take." 

The words felt heavier in the night air, more real somehow.

Jebediah let out a low whistle, eyebrows rising.

 "Quite the little secret belly you've been hiding. Isabeau's going to flip when she finds out—she'll probably start knitting tiny wolf booties immediately. Fair warning, she knits aggressively when she's excited."

Despite everything—the fear, the uncertainty, the weight of impossible choices pressing down on her—Anna smiled.

 "It's complicated," she said, the understatement of the century.

"Everything good usually is." 

He paused, took a long drink, his eyes distant for a moment. "The best things in life come wrapped in layers of complicated. That's how you know they're worth fighting for." Another pause, longer this time. 

"I won't pry—not tonight, anyway. The questions can wait until you're ready to answer them. But Anna..." 

    He turned to face her fully, and the moonlight caught in his eyes, turning them silver. "How are you? And I don't mean the medical report or the polite answer you give at dinner. How are you, really?"

Anna stared out at the moonlit grounds, considering. The question felt like standing at the edge of a cliff—one honest answer and she might fall into something she couldn't take back. How was she? Alive, certainly.

Free, improbably. Safe, maybe—though Isabeau's warning about someone asking dangerous questions still echoed in her mind like a half-remembered nightmare.

The silence stretched between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Jebediah seemed content to wait, to give her all the time in the world to find her truth.

"I'm breathing," 

    she said finally, the words coming slow and careful. "Not in a cell, not dead in the snow , not waiting for them to come back with more questions I couldn't answer." 

She gripped the stone rail, feeling the cold bite into her palms. "That feels like enough to be grateful for. More than enough, really." She turned to face him fully, meeting his eyes. "And your family—JB, that dinner was... I haven't felt that kind of warmth like forever. Before pack politics and mate bonds and territory disputes became everything. Before I learned that family could be a weapon as easily as a shelter. Your family, they just... exist with each other. They don't perform, they just are."

"Big energy, right?" 

  Jebediah grinned, and it transformed his face from handsome to beautiful. "I know we're weird, loud. Way too comfortable roasting each other in public. Emmett says we're like a pack of puppies—lots of noise and occasional biting, but mostly harmless."

"It was perfect,"

     Anna interrupted, surprised by the force of her own emotion. Her voice cracked slightly. "I loved every chaotic second of it. The teasing, the laughter, even Janet threatening to stab you with a fork. Especially that, actually."

His expression softened into something tender, something that made her chest ache.

 "Yeah. Me too. I wouldn't trade them for anything in this world or the next." 

He gazed out at the horizon, where forest met sky in a dark line that seemed to hold all the mysteries of the universe. "That's what pack should be, you know? Not the formal dinners where everyone's calculating alliances and watching for weaknesses. Not the silent meals where you're afraid to speak wrong, afraid to breathe wrong. Just... people who chose each other, protecting each other, loving each other. Choosing each other every single day, even when it's hard, that's the way of the Ozeths."

The words settled over Anna like a blanket, warm and heavy. She'd never heard an Alpha talk like this—with such raw honesty, such vulnerability. Most Alphas she'd known wore their power like armor, never showing the soft places underneath.

They stood in comfortable silence for a while, the kind of silence that felt like understanding. The wind picked up, carrying wolf-song from somewhere deep in the estate—a hunt, probably, or just young wolves burning off energy under the moon.

"Quite the place you've built here," 

    Anna said eventually, her eyes tracing the elegant lines of the estate. "And I still can't believe you're the Alpha. You act so... carefree, free-spirited. That's a rare thing for someone carrying this much responsibility. Most Alphas I've known act like the weight of the world is crushing them, and they want everyone else to feel that weight too."

Jebediah chuckled. 

"Isabeau talks too much, I must say , but yeah, it's true. I'm Alpha of Mooncrest, patriarch of the Ozeth bloodline, keeper of the old traditions, protector of these lands, all the official titles that sound impressive on paper."

 He rolled his shoulders as if shrugging off a heavy cloak. "But that doesn't change who I am at my core. Those are roles I play, duties I honor, but they're not my identity. We're all free spirits here, Anna. I just refuse to let responsibility crush that out of me. Leadership is about service, not imprisonment. I'm a bird set free—I intend to stay that way, no matter how heavy the crown gets."

Anna studied his profile—the strong line of his jaw, the easy way he held himself, the utter lack of pretense or performance. She'd known Alphas her whole life. Territorial, controlling, always projecting strength even when they felt weak. Even Deimon, in his better moments, had carried that weight of command like armor, never letting anyone see the man underneath.

Jebediah wore his power like a comfortable sweater—warm, practical, and entirely his own.

"That's..." 

    She searched for words. "That's not something you see often . Most Alphas I've known let the title consume them. They become the role instead of the person."

"Then they're doing it wrong,"

     Jebediah said simply. He took another sip of wine, his gaze turning thoughtful. "Power's like fire. You can let it burn you up, consume everything you are until there's nothing left but ash and duty. Or you can tend it carefully, use it to warm the people around you, to light the way forward." He glanced at her. "I choose warmth over destruction, every time."

The conviction in his voice made something in Anna's chest tighten. She'd spent so long in the cold—first in Deimon's distant silences, then in that frozen cell—that she'd forgotten what warmth felt like. Real warmth, offered freely without strings attached.

He stretched, joints popping, and let out an enormous yawn that made him look suddenly younger, more boyish. 

"Moon above, what a day. I should probably crash before I fall asleep standing up and Isabeau finds me drooling on the balcony in the morning. She'd never let me hear the end of it."  He caught himself, something shifting in his expression. "You should rest too, Anna—" 

He paused, a grin spreading across his face like sunrise. "Actually, there's somewhere I want to show you tomorrow. Gonna be quite the day. Might change how you see this place. Infact , it'll change how you see a lot of things, actually."

"Mysterious," 

Anna teased, though her curiosity was well and truly caught. "Should I be worried? Is this where you reveal Mooncrest is actually built on an ancient burial ground and we're all haunted?"

"Only if you're afraid of history lessons and possibly crying in public."

 His tone stayed light, but something flickered in his eyes. Something serious beneath the humor, something that spoke of old sorrows and older truths. "But it's important. I think... I think it'll help you understand what this place really is. What we're offering. Why we do things the way we do." He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "There are secrets here, Anna. Good secrets, the kind that protect rather than harm. But secrets nonetheless. And if you're going to stay—if you're going to be part of this—you deserve to know them."

Anna nodded slowly, her heart picking up speed. Secrets, always secrets. But something in his voice told her these weren't the cruel kind, the kind that got people hurt. These were different. 

"Then I'll be ready," she said. "Whatever you need to show me."

"Good." Jebediah clapped her gently on the shoulder—a friendly gesture . Warmth spread from the contact, that strange calm that radiated from him. Not the domineering presence of most Alphas, the kind that pressed down on you until you felt small. This was different, steadier, safer. Like standing near a fire on a winter night—present, comforting, but never consuming.

"Take care of yourself tonight,"

     he said, his voice carrying a note of genuine concern. "And Anna? Stop overthinking everything. I can practically hear the gears turning in your head from here." He smiled softly. "Whatever this is all about, we'll figure it out together. You're in the right place. I know you don't believe that yet, but you will. Give it time."

He turned to go, then paused at the balcony door, moonlight catching in his dark hair. 

"Oh, and one more thing. Tomorrow morning, 10AM sharp. Don't be late—Isabeau will have my hide if I mess up her schedule." He flashed a grin that was pure mischief. "Sleep well, Anna. See you at dawn, and try not to dream about snowbanks."

Then he was gone, his voice echoing back through the corridors as he bellowed someone's name—probably one of his brothers, judging by the creative insults that followed. Something about Seth leaving wet towels on the bathroom floor again and deserving to be banished to the stables.

Anna stood alone under the moon, wine glass forgotten on the stone ledge. The estate had settled into its nighttime rhythm—distant laughter from somewhere deep inside, the sound of doors closing, the whisper of the wind through ancient stones. Her hand had drifted again to her belly, to the tiny life growing there. A child who would be born into... what? Exile? Protection? A war she didn't fully understand?

'You're safe here.'

Was she? Could she trust Jebediah's easy confidence, his family's warm acceptance? She wanted to. Goodness, she wanted to believe it so badly it physically hurt, like pressing on a bruise that had never quite healed. But trust was expensive, and she'd spent all her currency on the wrong person before.

Her other hand found the Blood-Ring on her finger—the one bond that still held true, still pulsed with distant life like a second heartbeat against her skin. Deimon. Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, the ring connected them across distance and betrayal. Sometimes she swore she could feel his emotions bleeding through—rage, confusion, something that might have been regret. But maybe that was just wishful thinking.

She pressed the ring hard against her skin until it hurt, until the pain was real and sharp enough to cut through the confusion.

Two Alphas in her life now. One who'd abandoned her to imprisonment and death, who'd believed the worst without question. Another who offered sanctuary without asking for anything in return, who looked at her with those storm-grey eyes and saw someone worth saving.

Which one would define her future? Which one would define her child's future?

Anna stared at the moon until her eyes burned, searching for answers in silver light. The moon had always felt like a friend, a constant in a world of variables. But tonight it seemed distant, keeping its secrets close.

 Behind her, Mooncrest Estate breathed with the rhythm of a hundred wolves settling in for the night—creaking floors, closing doors, whispered goodnights. A living thing, this place. A breathing organism built from stone and loyalty and fierce love.

Ahead, the forest stretched dark and endless, hiding threats she couldn't yet name. The trees swayed in the wind, their shadows dancing across the snow-dusted ground like phantoms.

And tomorrow—tomorrow, Jebediah would show her something important. Something that would help her understand. A secret that might explain why this place felt different from everywhere else she'd been, why the wolves here moved with a freedom she'd never seen before.

She just hoped she was ready for whatever truth he had to share.

"Someone's been asking questions. Dangerous questions."

Isabeau's words came back to her, no longer a warning but a prophecy waiting to unfold. Anna wrapped her arms tighter around herself, suddenly cold despite the wine warming her blood. The peaceful moment shattered like glass, leaving sharp edges everywhere she looked.

She turned and headed inside, her movements quick and precise. The balcony door closed with a solid click, and she locked it with hands that trembled just slightly. Through the glass, she could still see the forest, still see those shadows that might hide anything—or anyone.

Whatever was coming, it would find her soon enough, and she must be ready to face it head-on 

But tonight, for just tonight, she was behind locked doors in

a place that felt like safety.

Anna touched her belly one more time, a whispered promise to the life growing there:

"I'll keep you safe. Whatever it takes."