Bree
The Bloodmoon Pack was starting to feel like a sanctuary, though I couldn't shake the doubt of whether I truly deserved such a haven. Everything around me felt lighter, almost dreamlike. Still, the shadows of my past clung to me.
It was late afternoon, and I found myself back in the training yard. Sparring had become my refuge. With every punch, block, dodge, and roll, I could momentarily escape thoughts of Kyle, the betrayal, and the curse that wrapped around my wrist like a relentless timer.
“Great technique,” Finn’s deep voice interrupted my concentration.
I lowered my fists and turned to see him leaning against the fence. His eyes were calm, but there was a hint of curiosity.
“You should be training your warriors instead of watching me."
“My warriors don’t need as much supervision as you seem to think,” he replied with a playful smirk.
I shot him a doubtful look and he chuckled. His laughter was warm and sincere, not scornful.
“What do you want, Finn?” I asked, grabbing a towel.
“I just want to talk,” he answered nonchalantly.
I raised an eyebrow.
“About what?”
“About why you train as if you’re running from someone.”
I paused, wiping the towel against my face.
“That’s none of your concern.”
“Maybe no, but it won't help you heal."
“Who says I need healing?” I shot back.
“Your eyes,” he said, stepping closer.
“They’ve been screaming since we found you in the woods.”
His words struck a chord, but before I could reply, chaos erupted.
“Rogues!” someone yelled.
Adrenaline surged through me as I instinctively ran toward the commotion with Finn behind me. Bloodmoon warriors sprang into action, but one rogue slipped past them, heading for a terrified pup hiding behind a tree. Asha took control, and before I knew it, I was shifting mid-stride. My claws tore into the rogue’s side, sending him crashing to the ground.
As the chaos settled, I shifted back, panting and marked with scratches. Finn stood a few steps away, his wolf retreating as he looked at me with awe and admiration.
“That was a bit reckless,” he commented.
“But it worked, didn’t it?”
Finn gave a slight smile.
“It did. Still, you should let the warriors handle the front lines next time.”
“And let an innocent pup get hurt?”
Finn’s smile widened.
Later that night, the pack gathered to assess the aftermath and celebrate our victory. I tried to blend in, but the whispers and glances directed at me were hard to ignore.
“She was incredible,” one warrior whispered to another.
I hated the attention, yet a small part of me felt a sense of pride.
Finn found me by the fire pit, my arms wrapped around my knees. He handed me a cup of tea and sat down beside me.
“You made quite an impression today,” he said.
“I didn’t do it for them,” I replied, my eyes fixed on the glowing flames.
“Then why did you do it?”
"Because I couldn't simply stand by and do nothing."
Finn nodded his face deep in thought.
"That's what being a Luna is all about. But I’m telling you this because you have the instincts for it."
"Maybe," I replied, avoiding his gaze, and we both went silent.
"You never talk about your past," Finn observed.
"Because there's nothing worth discussing."
He studied me intently.
"You know that's not true."
I tightened my jaw; the urge to speak itched in my throat.
"What do you want me to say? That I trusted someone who shattered me? That I was naive enough to hope for a happy ending?"
Finn remained calm, patiently waiting as his steady presence began to break down my defenses.
"I lost everything... my mate, my pack, and a part of myself."
"But you're still here," he replied softly.
“For how long?” I shot back, my eyes drifting to the faint mark on my wrist.
Finn reached out, his fingers brushing over it gently.
"For as long as it takes."
As the fire crackled, a sudden sharp pain shot through my wrist. I gasped, clutching it as the mark started to glow. Finn's hand enveloped mine, his expression shifting from worry to something I couldn't quite decipher.
“It’s not over."
“No. It’s just beginning.”
