Page 5
CONNOR
Claire was laughing.
I don’t know how long I stood there, just watching her. Barefoot on the dewy grass, the hem of her dress soaked through, curls clinging to her neck from the morning mist. Her cheeks were flushed with life, her smile wide, real, and utterly hers.
Ash reached for her first, tugging her against him, nuzzling into her neck. She shrieked and laughed harder, twisting in his arms until I stepped behind her and wrapped my arms around them.
Our bond pulsed between us—alive, unshakable, whole.
She turned her head toward me, eyes bright with mischief and joy. “I love you both,” she said.
I felt the bond singing in my bones, anchoring me to them.
We were untouchable.
Until we weren’t.
I jolted awake, my chest heaving. The room was still dark, the hush of pre-dawn wrapping the house in silence.
Ash and Luna were curled together on the bed—she was tucked in front of him, her hand tangled in my fur. Her breathing was soft, shallow, but steady. Ash’s arm rested nearby, careful not to touch her, but close enough to protect.
I shifted carefully, untangling myself from her grip and padding out of the room on four legs, my paws silent against the floorboards.
That dream clung to me like smoke—too vivid, too cruel. Claire hadn’t just left. She’d been torn from us. And we’d been unraveling ever since.
The shift to human form was second nature now, though it left a hollow ache behind. I stood in the upstairs bathroom, staring at my reflection. I was still breathing. I was still here.
But only half alive.
The shower was hot. Too hot. I didn’t care. I leaned into the sting, trying to burn the grief out of my skin. It never worked. Claire always came back. In dreams. In memories. In the way Ash hadn’t smiled in nearly two years.
And now—Luna.
A new scent. A new presence. A broken girl who tugged at something in both of us that we hadn’t felt since Claire. But this wasn’t the same. It couldn’t be.
The pack, war, and deaths had to be a coincidence. There was no way she was tied to what we lost.
Still, something primal in me didn’t believe that.
Downstairs, the familiar ritual grounded me. Coffee. Soup. Routine kept us from shattering. I set the pressure cooker and watched the steam build. She’d need real food, and I needed something to do with my hands.
Footsteps padded in behind me, soft despite the size. Ash, shirtless, eyes still heavy with sleep and shadows. He made a beeline for the coffee, poured it black, and sat beside me on the couch.
“So,” I said.
“Yeah.” His voice was hoarse, low.
That was enough. We didn’t need complete sentences. Hadn’t in years.
I took a sip of coffee. “She slept okay.”
“She held onto you.”
“She was scared.”
He didn’t respond, but I saw the muscle ticking in his jaw. His hands curled around the mug like it might break.
“You feel it?” I asked eventually.
His answer came after a long pause. “Worse than the first time.”
That stopped me. “Worse than Claire?”
He nodded, barely. “It’s sharper. Like it’s fighting to break through her fear.”
My stomach tightened. “But she doesn’t know what she is.”
“No,” he agreed. “She doesn’t know anything. Not about the pack. Not about being a wolf. Not about the bond.”
“She’s going to run when she finds out.”
“She might.”
“You can’t chase her.”
Ash shot me a look. “I won’t lose her.”
“You can’t keep her either. Not like this.”
His glare didn’t fade, but he didn’t argue. That was progress.
I stared into my mug. “I keep wondering if it’s a second chance.”
His silence stretched between us.
Claire had died a week after the pack was attacked—part of the chaos, but never meant to be a target. Wrong place. Wrong time. Wrong everything.
Ash had never forgiven himself. I didn’t think he ever would.
“She’s not Claire,” Ash said.
“I know.”
“But there’s something—” He broke off, rubbing his chest like breathing hurt.
“You’re drawn to her.”
His eyes met mine. “You’re not?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I was.
Not like Ash. Not yet. But something about her called to the piece of me that had been numb since Claire died. Watching her sleep last night had quieted that ache, if only for a moment.
Ash leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “If she leaves—if she goes back to whatever life she had—we lose her.”
“I know.”
“We need to help her remember what she is.”
“Gently,” I warned.
A soft sound interrupted us. The faint creak of a floorboard, a rustle of fabric. We both froze.
Luna.
Ash was up first. He always was.
I stayed on the couch, forcing myself to look normal—coffee in hand, casual posture. She didn’t need both of us crowding her right now.
“Cool it with the eyes, Ash,” I muttered loud enough for him to hear. His wolf was close to the surface—too close.
Then she stepped into view.
Hair combed, eyes tired but focused, pain clinging to every movement—but she carried herself with quiet resolve.
Claire had been all fire. Luna was ice and ash—burned down to the bones and still standing.
Ash moved to steady her without touching. “You okay?”
She nodded, eyes flicking to me on the couch. I smiled—gentle, not too familiar. “Soup’s on. You hungry?”
Her stomach answered for her.
I went to the kitchen to serve it, but even as I ladled soup into the bowl, I felt it again—that strange tension, like something was waking up inside me.
Not the same as Claire. Not instead of Claire.
But something real.
And that scared the hell out of me.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5 (Reading here)
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39