All Chapters of Underneath The Moonlight : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Summer settles in quietly, like it doesn’t want to be noticed. The days stretch longer, the nights warmer, and everything around the pack house turns green and restless. The air hums with life—birds calling from the trees, insects buzzing lazily in the tall grass, wolves pacing the forest edge like they’re waiting for something to break. Nothing does. At least, not on the surface. My days fall into a pattern so steady it almost feels unreal. Wake early. Train. Eat. Train again. Rest when I’m told to. Repeat. The routine is meant to ground me, I think. To give me something solid while everything else stays uncertain. It works. Mostly. The tension with the pack members has died down slowly. Some begin to warm up to me and greet me when passing by. Some even strike up small conversations. I guess it’s the foreigness that was making them hesitant. I’m thankful for Mariel for acting as an envoy of peace for me. Thanks to her I was able to talk to other people. And they

  Summer settles over the pack lands like a held breath.      The air is thick, heavy with warmth and something else—something restless. Cicadas hum endlessly in the trees, their noise drilling into my skull as if they’re trying to shake something loose inside me. I wake every morning already tense, already aware of my body in ways I never used to be. Stronger. Faster. Sharper.      And angry.      Not the explosive kind. Not the kind that burns hot and fast. This anger simmers, coiled low in my stomach, patient. Waiting.      Chloe’s voice still echoes in my head from days ago. Rogue. The word doesn’t sting as much anymore. Not because it hurts less—but because something in me doesn’t care if it does.      I focus on training instead.      Every day, I push myself harder. I run farther into the fields bordering the fo

  I don’t remember the exact words.      That’s the worst part.      I remember tone. Pauses. The way voices dropped when they thought no one was close enough to hear. I remember my name—spoken carefully, like it was sharp enough to cut someone who handled it wrong.      That’s what stays with me as I lie awake long after the house settles into quiet.      Not fear. Not panic.      Certainty.      Asher is hiding something from me.      The thought doesn’t come with anger anymore. It doesn’t even ache the way it did right after the kiss, when confusion clawed at my chest and his avoidance felt personal, sharp, humiliating. Now it sits heavy and solid, like a stone placed deliberately in my path.      I turn onto my side and stare at the faint glow of moonlight slipping through the

  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

  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