All Chapters of Moon Madness: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Mom has fashion magazines spread across the living room coffee table like evidence in a trial. Jenny sits cross-legged on the rug beside her, eyes shining with the kind of excitement only a fourteen-year-old can muster over someone else's wardrobe. "It's about time," Mom says when I walk in, towel-drying my hair. She doesn't look up at first, just flips a glossy page. "Honestly, Cat. You can't avoid this forever." "I wasn't avoiding," I lie. June sighs inside my head. Yes you were. Jenny squeals. "I can't believe you're getting a designer dress! Please, please, big sis, let me do your makeup!" I drop onto the couch like my bones have turned to sand. "Oh Goddess, help me get through this," I laugh, because if I don't laugh I'm going to snarl. Mom finally lifts her gaze to me, expression sharpening into the look she uses when she's about to turn motherhood into strategy. "Cat, you need to be a little more serious about the mating ball." I gesture vaguely at my face. "I had blood

We walk together toward our lockers, three different personalities threaded into one friendship that somehow works. Tara talks about cheer practice. Lizzie mentions a test in chemistry. I listen, half-present, because my wolf keeps brushing against the edge of my thoughts like she's restless.June's attention flicks down the hallway.Sandra, she murmurs.Sandra is watching us.Not openly—she knows better—but her minions' eyes follow us like little cameras, catching every movement.Tara notices too. Her smile turns sharp. "Ugh. Queen B and her court."Lizzie's shoulders tense.Sandra's favorite pastime is finding someone's insecurity and pressing until it bleeds.She's tried it on Lizzie a few times. Whispered comments. Social traps. Smirks when Lizzie answers a question in class. Little things that add up until they feel big.I warned Sandra once. Just once.The next time one of her minions "accidentally" knocked Lizzie's books out of her arms, Sandra had stared at me like she was tes

We drive to Tara's house, which is less "house" and more "mansion." Her dad made money in finance before returning to pack life. Omegas aren't servants anymore—just ordinary pack wolves—so Tara lives like royalty.Her parents are away. Hawaii.Which, in Tara's mind, means rules no longer exist.We order pizza, spread makeup across the bathroom counter, and start the ritual of getting ready.I'm last to shower. I'm halfway through washing my hair when Tara knocks and pushes the door open without waiting for an answer, because privacy is apparently optional in her world.She holds up a razor like she's presenting a sacred offering.I blink water out of my eyes. "What.""You need to shave," she says, dead serious.My spine stiffens. "I'm shaving my armpits. That's it."Tara gasps like I've confessed to murder. "Catherine Evans, you cannot go out without shaving downstairs.""Talk to my hand," I say, and close the door in her face.June laughs so hard I nearly choke on shampoo.I shave my

The club is already alive when I step onto the dance floor. Bass rolling through the floor. Lights slicing the dark into color and shadow. Bodies moving in waves like a living tide. Heat wraps around me instantly—sweat, perfume, alcohol, adrenaline. This. This I understand. Fighting clears my head. But dancing— Dancing sets it on fire in a different way. I move without thinking, slipping into the crowd, letting the rhythm catch my hips, my shoulders, my spine. The beat threads through me like it belongs there. No strategy. No dominance games. No pack politics. Just movement. Just control. My dress clings as I turn, hair sticking briefly to my neck before I flip it back. The lights flash blue, then gold, then red, painting strangers in temporary halos. For a few minutes— I'm untouchable. June stretches lazily inside me. This is ours, she murmurs. I roll my shoulders and sink deeper into the rhythm, eyes half-lidded, pulse matching the bass. Someone w

I wake with a violent jolt.For a split second, I don't know where I am. The ceiling above me is unfamiliar—too high, too clean. Pale morning light filters through curtains I don't recognize, slicing the room into sharp lines.My heart slams against my ribs.Then the scent hits me.Male.Warm.Overwhelming.Alpha.Panic floods my system so fast it steals my breath.What the fuck.I sit up abruptly, the sheet slipping down my body as memory crashes into me all at once—heat, closeness, his weight, the way the night folded in on itself until there was nothing else. The haze evaporates, leaving sharp-edged clarity behind.Beside me, he's still asleep.A fucking Alpha.Aiden lies sprawled across the bed, bare skin catching the light, dark hair mussed, completely at ease. He looks peaceful.That somehow makes it worse.June recoils hard inside me.Alpha, she snarls. He hid it.My stomach twists painfully.He wasn't human.He was never human.I scramble out of bed, movements frantic but care