All Chapters of Beneath the Winter Moon: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The human world didn’t ask questions. It didn’t care who I had been, or what I had lost. That was exactly what I needed. I traded forest paths for crowded sidewalks, the howl of wolves for the constant buzz of city life. I found a city big enough to disappear in, where no one knew my name—and for a while, that anonymity became my salvation. It wasn’t peace—not really—but it was silence. And after everything, silence felt like a kindness.But even in that silence, he found me.Not in person—never that—but in flashes: his voice in the back of my mind, his scent riding the breeze when no one else noticed. Sometimes I’d wake in the middle of the night, heart pounding, chest aching like the bond had only just broken. No matter how far I ran, some part of him still echoed inside me. That was the thing no one warned me about—when a bond dies, it doesn’t vanish. It lingers. It bruises. And it always remembers.**The nightmares started around the third week.At first, I thought they were just

** This chapter contains content of self-harm**The streets were nearly empty at this hour, just a few early risers blinking through their routines and delivery trucks humming softly past shuttered storefronts. Celeste pulled her coat tighter around her body, the weight of the early morning chill settling into her bones like something she deserved.She walked in silence, each step echoing in her ears louder than it should. The city hadn’t fully woken yet—still caught in that gray space between night and day, where shadows stretched longer and everything felt quieter than it really was.But her thoughts were anything but quiet.She kept thinking about him.The man Victoria had called her brother. The one she’d brushed past on her way out of the diner.There’d been something about the moment their shoulders touched—a ripple, barely there, but enough to stir the air around her. And then the pause. She hadn’t turned around, hadn’t dared look back, but she’d felt it: his eyes lingering, his

The elevator opened directly into the private dining floor of one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city—a place where you didn’t get a reservation, you were invited. The room was sleek, modern, and intimidating in its subtle opulence. Walls of black marble reflected the amber glow of pendant lights hanging from the ceiling like drops of molten gold. A single pianist played softly in the corner, the notes rich and low like a whisper.Victoria stepped out of the elevator wearing something far more tailored than her usual daywear, but still comfortable enough to remind everyone she wasn’t there to impress—just to be heard. She passed through the polished corridor, nodded once at the discreet security stationed near the private booths, and found her brother seated in a curtained alcove near the window.The booth was curved leather, matte black, with a floor-to-ceiling view of the skyline bathed in the last light of sunset. He sat with his back straight, one hand around a glass of w

The Alpha King's POV – Late Night She shouldn't matter... She was human. Ordinary. She worked in a diner. Kept her head down. Wore perfume too floral to be natural. She smiled like someone who'd practiced it too many times. And yet—she kept coming back. Not in reality. In thought. In scent. In moments that should’ve been dismissed but never were. That morning at the diner. The brush of an arm. A soft apology. The same perfume that clung to her when she passed them outside the building. When she stood across the street in the rain, staring in at something that once broke her. There was pain in her eyes. Not the kind people wore to be pitied—but the kind they wore when they didn’t expect to survive it. He’d seen hundreds of wolves wear that look. But she was human. Wasn’t she? He leaned back in his chair, hand absently circling the rim of his glass.Then why does her scent feel so familiar? That question had started small, but now it scratched deeper every time he saw her—or

Blair stood still, one hand clutching a half-folded gown, the other frozen mid-gesture. The air in the boutique suddenly felt heavier, like someone had turned down the volume of the world just for her. She stared at the door where the two women had just exited. Not at both of them. Just one. That silver-gray hair—long, shimmering like frost under sunlight. It caught the light in a way that tugged at something deep inside her mind, some shadow of memory she couldn’t quite bring into focus. “Did you see her?” she asked, quieter now. Her voice lost the sharpness it carried earlier, replaced with something unsure. Grayson looked over from where he stood beside the window. “Who?” “The girl,” Blair said slowly, “with the silver hair.” He frowned. “You mean the one with the girl you’ve been arguing with?” Blair didn’t answer right away. Her eyes were still on the street, but the figure had long since vanished into the crowd. “I’ve seen that hair before,” she murmured. “I just... don’