Page 30

ASH

When Luna ran to the bathroom, I won’t lie—I thought it was over. The fragile thread holding us together suddenly felt like it might snap. She’d change her mind, grab Jessica’s hand, and leave us behind, just like that.

Connor and I exchanged glances that said everything we weren’t ready to say out loud.

This wasn’t just about a rough night or a small argument.

This was the fear we’d never fully dealt with before—losing someone who’d chosen this strange, complicated life with us.

Claire was young, still wrapped in the pack’s rhythm; Luna wasn’t. The stakes were higher.

She reemerged, fragile and pale, her voice barely whispering, asking to go home. We didn’t hesitate. The car ride back was heavy with silence, a slow-burning tension I couldn’t shake.

At home, the bathroom door shut with a finality that made my chest tighten. The shower rumbled, the water masking whatever storm she was weathering.

Connor swore under his breath. “What the hell was that?”

I stopped pacing, hands clenched. “That was Luna’s truth—the thing she’s afraid to say but needs to. If we don’t face it, it’ll eat us alive.”

Connor frowned, eyes dark. “We’re always the odd family. Kids will get rumours, bullying.”

I shook my head. “Marriage isn’t just a party. It’s a promise. Something real we can offer her.”

He scoffed, grabbing a beer. “You really think marriage’s the answer?”

“If that’s what she needs,” I said quietly. “Remember, Claire. Her fears weren’t just about love. Financial security. Vulnerability.”

I paced, fists clenched, fighting down the rising panic. The silence between us stretched thick, heavier than the air in the room.

She came out again, pale and fragile in her pajamas. That quiet—so unlike her usual fire—knotted something deep inside me. I wanted to pull her close, to promise she wasn’t alone in this, but I hesitated, afraid to push her further into shutting down.

She drank water like she was steadying herself against a storm I couldn’t see.

“Are you okay?” I asked the question, feeling small in the vast silence.

She shook her head, voice barely a whisper. “I can’t see her again.”

That hit harder than I expected. A cold knot settled in my chest—part fear, part helplessness. What if this was the breaking point?

“Where do you want to sleep?” I asked, careful to keep my distance, scared that any sudden move might push her further away.

“My room,” she said, quietly, “if that’s okay.”

It stung—more than I wanted to admit. The distance in her choice felt like a quiet surrender, a pulling back from all of us.

But of course, it was her choice. And I would respect that even if it broke something inside me.

I watched her close her bedroom door, soft as a sigh. No slam, no finality. But it still felt like a wall going up between us.

I ran a hand through my hair and sank onto the couch, elbows on knees, trying to ground myself. Connor hovered by the kitchen counter, beer untouched.

“You okay?” he asked.

“No,” I admitted. “But I’m not the one who matters right now.”

Connor gave a slow nod, then pushed the beer aside. “She’s scared.”

“Yeah. And I don’t blame her.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, replaying the night in my head. Jessica had held up a mirror, and Luna had flinched at her reflection. All the unspoken doubts between us were laid out by someone who didn’t even know the half of it.

I hated how powerless I felt. Like, no matter what I did, it wouldn't be enough to make this easier for her.

“I thought she was starting to feel safe with us,” I said, voice low.

“She is,” Connor said. “But this thing with us? It’s not just a relationship. It’s a whole damn world she had no say in creating. And now her world’s clashing with ours.”

I nodded slowly. “She didn’t sign up for the chaos. She just stumbled into it.”

I stood. Couldn’t sit still any longer. A long run would help and hopefully tire me out enough to sleep.