Cracks and Shadows

Cracks and Shadows

The hut stood crooked but real, a skeleton of wood and moss pressed together with stubborn hands. It wasn’t much—a single room no bigger than the Pearl Pack’s smallest guest quarters—but it was hers. Every blister, every ache in her body had become a stone in its foundation.

Sage watched from within, her voice like smoke curling around Evandra’s mind. It will hold, her wolf whispered. It will keep us warm. It will remind us who we are.

Evandra sank onto the earthen floor, brushing hair from her sweaty face. For a fleeting moment, pride bloomed in her chest. She had not been destroyed. She was still here. Still breathing.

But the nights were harder.

The rogues were getting close—too close. Their scent clung to the edges of the woods, sharp and sour, like rot carried on the wind. Sometimes, when the moon was full, she heard them howling, voices broken and wild. She clutched her knees to her chest in those moments, praying they would not find her clearing.

We are one breath away from them, Sage murmured one night, restless and mournful. If they catch us, they will tear us apart. Just as he did.

Evandra pressed her hands to her ears, as though she could block out her wolf’s grief. But she couldn’t. She could feel Sage’s pain like her own—the ripping of the bond, the echo of abandonment. Wolves did not survive such a wound easily.

He was ours, Sage whimpered. Our mate. Our Alpha. And he left us out in the cold, not caring if we survived.

Evandra’s throat tightened, her nails digging into her palms until blood welled. “I know,” she whispered into the darkness. “I know, Sage. But we will not die for him.”

And so she worked harder. Each day she gathered wood, reinforced her hut, and wove barriers of bramble to keep intruders at bay. It was a fragile safety, but it was survival. And survival was all she had left.

Jalen

The dining hall glittered with candlelight, but Jalen felt the weight of every shadow. Chelsea sat beside him, her blond hair gleaming like spun gold, her blue eyes radiant as she smiled at the pack elders. Her hand never left her stomach, even though it was still flat. The gesture was deliberate, a reminder. She was carrying the future.

She laughed lightly at a compliment from one of the elders, then leaned close to Jalen. “They adore me already,” she whispered, her voice silky. “You see? The pack is ready for their new Luna, maybe we should move the wedding date up?”

Jalen forced a nod, his jaw tight. To the world, Chelsea was flawless: elegant, gentle-voiced, charming with every word. But when the smiles faded and the audience thinned, he had begun to see the sharpness underneath.

He had never loved her. She was meant to be a quick release and an escape away from the disappointment he felt. His Luna had not been able to give him a child, and it angered him. He felt like he wasted 4 years of his life. So, he turned to other women. Sleeping around with the Omegas casually, but then one day Chelsea came to him with a pregnancy test in her hand. He had smelled the pup in her belly before she even reached him with it. He started to hope, and he held on to that hope. He could have an heir.

But without Chelsea being his Luna, the child would never be Alpha or Luna to another pack. So, he had to make a choice to secure his pup’s future. After putting thought into it, he convinced himself that Chelsea would make a better Luna than Eva anyway. But now, sitting in the dining hall with her, watching her façade with the elders and other pack members, he wondered for a split second if this was her plan all along.

“You still keep her things in your chambers,” Chelsea remarked, bringing him out of his thoughts, whispering so no other wolves could hear. The sweetness was gone from her voice, replaced with steel. “Her gowns. Her trinkets. Don’t you think it’s time to burn them?”

His chest tightened. “Those things belong to the Luna of the Pearl Pack. Until the ceremony, they stay.”

Chelsea’s lips thinned, though her eyes glittered. “Do not speak of her as if she still matters. I am your Luna now. The pack will see it. You will see it.”

Her hand brushed his cheek, soft but possessive. Jalen didn’t pull away, though something in him recoiled. He told himself she was right—she was carrying his heir, she was his chosen mate—but the words tasted hollow.

And when night fell and Chelsea slept curled against him, he lay awake staring at the ceiling, remembering Evandra’s touch. Remembering the warmth that Chelsea’s chill beauty could not replace.

Evandra

The first true storm came days later. Rain hammered the little hut, turning the earth to mud, wind ripping at the moss-packed roof. Evandra pressed her back to the wall, clutching her arms around herself, praying the structure would not collapse.

Sage whimpered in her mind, restless, aching. I miss him.

Evandra closed her eyes, letting the wolf’s sorrow wash through her. “I know,” she whispered. “But he does not miss us. He chose another.”

Still, Sage pressed, her voice breaking. The bond is gone, but my heart is not. I ache for him, Evandra. I ache until I cannot breathe.

Hot tears slid down Evandra’s cheeks, her body shaking with silent sobs. She wanted to scream, to break the night apart with her fury and grief, but instead she pressed her forehead to her knees. “Then ache with me, Sage. But do not let it kill us. Please.”

Outside, in the storm, the scent of rogues drifted closer. The howls rose—broken, hungry. The forest seemed to whisper her name.

Evandra clutched herself tighter, heart pounding, and swore she would not become one of them. She would not fall to madness. She would live.

For herself.

For Sage.

For the love that had been torn from her, but not destroyed within her.