CHAPTER 4: THREADS OF THE MOON

Selene’s POV

The snow came heavier that week, coating the world in white silence. The Crescent wolves moved slower, their hunts shorter, their howls carrying softer through the trees. Winter had a way of making everything feel hollow—and yet, strangely alive.

I had grown stronger since the day I arrived. My hands were calloused, my reflexes sharper. When the warriors trained, I no longer fell behind. Mira said my aura had changed—that the Moon’s favor lingered on me even when I doubted it.

But lately, something else lingered too.

Every night, my dreams were filled with flashes—golden eyes, smoke curling in the air, the sound of a heartbeat that wasn’t mine. I woke breathless, the bond pulsing faintly like an ember refusing to die.

I tried to ignore it, but denial didn’t stop fate from whispering.

One evening, while gathering herbs near the frozen stream, I heard a low growl behind me. I turned, instincts flaring. A rogue wolf, mangy and desperate, stepped out from behind the trees, eyes bloodshot with hunger.

I reached for the dagger at my waist, steadying my breath. “Easy,” I whispered, though I knew there was no reasoning with it.

It lunged.

I rolled aside, my blade slicing its shoulder. It howled, snapping its jaws toward my throat, but I moved faster this time. The training paid off—I struck, clean and deep. The rogue fell, its body twitching before going still.

The world went quiet again.

Then, suddenly, pain rippled through my chest. Sharp. Hot. Real.

I dropped to my knees, gasping. It wasn’t my wound. It was the bond.

My vision blurred as his voice—faint but familiar—echoed inside me.

“Selene…”

I blinked, heart racing. No. It couldn’t be.

But the pain didn’t fade. It spread, deep and pulsing like the echo of his heartbeat.

He was hurt. Badly.

And no matter how hard I tried to sever the tie between us, my body responded to his pain like it was my own.

“Moon help me…” I whispered, clutching my chest.

For the first time in months, I didn’t fight the bond. I followed it.

Arden’s POV

Blood filled my mouth as I pushed the rogue’s body off me.

The patrol had gone wrong—too many of them, too fast. Half my warriors were down, and the rest were dragging the wounded back toward the border.

My vision swam. The gash across my ribs burned, but I didn’t let go of my sword. I couldn’t afford to. Not with rogues still circling like vultures.

Lyra had insisted I lead this hunt myself. “Prove you still have the strength of an Alpha,” she’d said.

And now, as I bled into the snow, I wondered if that’s what she truly wanted—to see me fall.

A growl rose behind me. I turned, barely lifting my weapon, when the world tilted. The rogue leapt—then froze mid-air.

A blur of silver tore through the clearing.

When the snow settled, a wolf stood between me and death.

Her fur shimmered under the moonlight, white with streaks of silver, her eyes fierce and bright—too familiar to mistake.

Selene.

She shifted before I could breathe her name, body trembling as she dropped beside me. “You’re bleeding,” she said, voice hoarse but steady.

I thought I was dreaming. I’d imagined this scene so many times that it felt unreal—until her hand touched my cheek. Warm. Real. Alive.

“Selene…” I rasped. “You shouldn’t—”

“Save your breath.” She pressed her palm against the wound on my side, and the warmth from her touch spread through me, sealing the worst of it. The bond flared, pulsing in sync with our hearts.

She flinched slightly, as if feeling it too. “You didn’t tell me you were this reckless,” she murmured, more to herself than to me.

I managed a weak laugh. “You weren’t here to stop me.”

Her gaze met mine—sharp, guarded, but filled with something unspoken. The silence between us was heavy, filled with months of words unsaid.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” I said finally, though every part of me screamed for her to stay.

She stood, wiping the blood from her hands. “I didn’t come back for you, Arden. I came because I felt you dying.”

Then she turned away.

But before she could walk off, I grabbed her wrist. My grip was weak, but desperate. “You still feel it too,” I whispered.

Her body went still. Her pulse trembled beneath my fingers.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “And I hate it.”

Selene’s POV

We returned to his pack in silence.

The sight of the Blood Moon territory again clawed at my chest—the tall stone walls, the scent of pine and smoke, the faint hum of magic that marked its borders. Everything was the same, yet everything was different.

Wolves bowed as we passed, their eyes wide with disbelief. They didn’t dare speak, but their whispers followed me like shadows.

She’s back.

The Luna has returned.

Inside the infirmary, the healers rushed to tend his wounds. I stood in the corner, watching, my hands still stained with his blood. Every breath he took seemed to pull at the bond again, tugging me closer even when I wanted to stay far away.

Lyra appeared soon after, her expression twisting when she saw me. “How poetic,” she sneered. “The runaway Luna returns the moment he bleeds.”

I ignored her. I’d learned long ago that her venom only had power if I tasted it.

But she wasn’t finished. “You think saving him changes anything? You’re not part of this pack anymore.”

Before I could answer, Arden’s voice cut through the room—weak but commanding. “Enough.”

Lyra stiffened. He struggled to sit up, his eyes on me, not her. “Leave us.”

She hesitated, then stormed out, her heels striking hard against the floor.

When the door closed, silence settled.

I should have walked away then. I should have left him to heal and returned to my new life. But his eyes—those same golden eyes that once shattered me—held something different now.

Regret.

“Why did you come?” he asked softly.

“I told you,” I said. “I felt it.”

He nodded slowly. “I didn’t think you’d still care.”

I laughed, but it came out bitter. “Care? You really don’t understand, do you? The bond doesn’t need my permission to exist.”

He stared at me, guilt shadowing his face. “Selene…”

I turned away, fighting the sting in my eyes. “Don’t. You made your choice. You let me go.”

“I was wrong,” he whispered.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

I wanted to believe him. Goddess, I wanted to. But I’d lived through the hollow nights and the silence after betrayal. Words weren’t enough anymore.

So I said nothing.

And as the moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating his face, I realized something painful yet true—

forgiveness was far harder than hate.