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21: Truth
publish date:
2026-03-15 00:30:01I don’t slam the door.
I rip it open. The motion is sharp enough that the hinges groan in protest, and the sound snaps through the hallway like a gunshot. Cool air rushes in from outside, carrying the scent of damp earth and grass, but it does nothing to calm the pressure crushing my chest. I can’t breathe. Not really. My lung
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Underneath The Moonlight 39: Under The Moon’s Watch
The forest is thick with shadows, but I move like I’ve been here before, silent, careful. Every branch that snaps underfoot makes me flinch. The rogue wolves I saw from the clearing are still somewhere out there, and I can feel them before I see them. My chest tightens, but I push it down. Panic will get me caught. I pressed myself against a tree, barely daring to breathe. Their low growls drift through the underbrush, echoing in a way that makes my stomach twist. I’ve never faced them alone. Never been this exposed. The voice in my head doesn’t speak yet. It’s watching. Waiting. I feel its presence like a pulse, steady, almost impatient. Good. Stay sharp, it seems to say. I peek around the tree. A wolf prowls near a fallen log, its fur black in the moonlight, eyes glinting like molten gold. It sniffs the air, nostrils flaring. My heart stops. My instincts scream
Underneath The Moonlight 38: No Turning Back
I wake before sunrise, the cold bite of the morning air pressing against my skin as I squeeze through the thick underbrush. Last night’s hiding spot is still etched in my memory—the rustle of leaves, the low growls of rogue wolves retreating, the pounding of my heart as I crouched, frozen. Every instinct in me screams caution, but the urgency behind my decision refuses to quiet. I cannot stay here. I cannot wait for Asher or anyone else to protect me. Not anymore. The forest is eerily quiet now. Dew drips from leaves, soaking my hair and jacket. My senses are alive, each sound magnified—the distant call of a bird, the snap of a twig under some unseen animal, the faint rustle of wind through branches. I adjust my footing and move slowly, deliberately, along the path that leads toward my old home. My chest tightens with anticipation and anxiety, but the voice
Underneath The Moonlight 37: Into the Wrong Night
I don’t tell anyone I’m leaving. That decision settles in my chest long before I move, heavy and deliberate, like a door closing without a sound. It isn’t secrecy for the sake of it. It isn’t fear of being stopped. It’s ownership. The house sleeps around me, breathing slow and deep, unaware of the line I’m about to cross. Wood creaks softly beneath my feet as I move through the hallway, careful to step where I know the floor won’t complain. I’ve memorized these things—the sounds, the rhythms, the spaces between people. You learn quickly when you’re never sure how long you’re allowed to stay. I pause at the door. The air on the other side feels different even through the crack, warm and alive, carrying the weight of summer and something wilder beneath it. I slide m
Underneath The Moonlight 36: Resolve
After training, I pad silently through the corridors of the pack house, careful not to let my footsteps echo against the polished floors. The day has been long, the sun high, and the warmth outside only reminds me of the cage I feel within these walls. I don’t belong in this life yet, I tell myself. Not fully. Not until I know the truth. And today, the truth feels close. A faint murmur drifts from one of the larger rooms down the hall. Voices I recognize—Asher’s low, commanding tone, Lucien’s steady baritone, and another I can’t place immediately. The door is slightly ajar. My pulse skips. I know I shouldn’t listen. I know I shouldn’t sneak. But every fiber of me urges me to stay, to hear. I press myself against the wall,
Underneath The Moonlight 35: Strength
I wake before sunrise, muscles already aching from yesterday’s training, but I don’t care. I can’t. The anger, the frustration, the confusion—they swirl inside me, and there’s only one way to release it. I slip into my gear silently, careful not to wake anyone, and head to the training grounds. The grass is still damp with morning dew, and the air smells of earth and sun. Summer has arrived fully, and the world feels sharp and alive. I run. Fast. My legs stretch and coil beneath me, lungs burning, heart pounding in rhythm with the voice that hums softly in my mind. It doesn’t speak, not yet, but I can feel it moving through me, urging, guiding. The rhythm of my body matches the rhythm of the earth beneath my feet. With each step, each pivot, I feel my wolf stirring beneath the
Underneath The Moonlight 34: Pulling At the Edge
I wake to the heat of summer spilling into my room, sweat clinging to my skin. My chest is tight, pulse heavy from dreams I can’t fully grasp. The voice in my head hums faintly, just beneath my thoughts, patient and watchful. It doesn’t speak yet, but I feel it there, alert and aware. I swing my legs over the bed and stand. The floor is warm beneath my bare feet. Even in the stillness, I sense the subtle rhythms of the pack around me: quiet footsteps, soft murmurs, eyes flicking toward my door. They notice me. It isn’t fear. It isn’t curiosity. Not exactly. It’s something in between—watchfulness, like I’ve shifted the invisible balance without realizing it. Asher isn’t here. Not in my line of sight. Not present where I can reach him. I feel the weight of his absence, deliberate and controlled. I tighten my jaw. That won’t stop me. ⸻
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