(Alaric's POV)
I watched her leave long after the door closed.
Not because I wanted to—but because some instinct buried deep beneath bone and regret refused to let go.
The echo of her footsteps faded down the corridor, yet her presence lingered in my chambers like a disturbance in the air. The scent of rain clung stubbornly to the space she'd occupied, subtle but unmistakable, threading itself into the stone walls as if Mooncrest itself wished to remember her.
I did not.
I wheeled myself closer to the desk and forced my attention to the papers spread before me. Old correspondence. Estate ledgers. Reports Kael insisted I review, though my signature was the only thing anyone truly needed.
The words blurred.
"You felt something last night."
I cursed softly and shoved the papers aside.
I hadn't meant to say it aloud. The admission had slipped out before caution could stop it—drawn from me by the way she held herself, by the careful denial in her eyes that mirrored my own.
She was human.
That should have been the end of it.
Instead, my wolf paced restlessly beneath my skin, agitated and alert. It had been quiet for too long—cowardice disguised as restraint. Now it pressed against the walls I'd built, teeth bared, demanding acknowledgment.
She sees you, it snarled. She smells the truth.
"She knows nothing," I muttered.
The wolf laughed, low and cruel.
I wheeled toward the window. Daylight revealed the forest in deceptive calm—green, still, ordinary. No trace of the wolves that patrolled its borders. No sign of the blood spilled on its soil years ago.
I remembered the weight of my Luna in my arms.
Her warmth fading.
My strength crushing instead of protecting.
The pain flared sharp and familiar, radiating down legs that no longer obeyed me. I welcomed it. Pain was honest. Pain was deserved.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Enter," I said.
Kael stepped inside, his expression carefully neutral. "You dismissed her quickly."
"I set boundaries."
"You tested her."
I shot him a glare. "Careful."
He didn't flinch. "The Moon is already paying attention."
That made my jaw tighten.
"She is not part of this," I said firmly. "She won't be."
Kael studied me for a long moment. "You can't command fate, Alaric. Not anymore."
"I am still Alpha," I snapped.
"Then act like one," he replied evenly. "Or the pack will feel the weakness you pretend doesn't exist."
Silence stretched between us.
Finally, Kael sighed. "Your mother wants you to attend dinner tonight."
"I won't."
"She insists."
"Then she'll be disappointed."
He turned to leave, then paused. "The girl follows the rules. So far."
"Good," I said.
But as he left, unease coiled tighter in my chest.
I told myself I was relieved when Mei Lin did not return that afternoon. Told myself it was better to keep distance. Better to let her settle into routines far from me.
And yet, when evening approached, I found myself listening.
Waiting.
Dinner was a quiet affair. My mother spoke of estate matters, of distant allies and upcoming visits. I gave minimal responses, my attention drifting despite myself.
"She is observant," Selene remarked casually. "More than most."
"That will get her hurt," I replied.
"Or prepared," she countered. "You cannot shelter her forever."
"I don't intend to shelter her at all."
My mother smiled faintly. "We'll see."
The moon rose early that night.
I felt it before I saw it—a pressure behind my eyes, a hum beneath my skin. The wolf stirred again, restless and alert.
I retreated to my chambers before darkness fully claimed the halls.
From the window, I saw her crossing the courtyard below, escorted by a servant. She paused briefly, as if sensing something, then continued on.
The wolf surged violently.
Look at her, it urged. She is not afraid.
"She should be," I whispered.
A memory rose unbidden—silver light, laughter, hands warm in mine. I crushed it down with practiced brutality.
No more.
I would not lose control again.
As night deepened, the mansion settled into its uneasy quiet. Somewhere far off, a wolf howled—low and restrained.
I closed my eyes.
And for the first time in two years, I wondered if my control was not as absolute as I had believed.
Because the weight of her gaze—soft, human, and entirely unprepared for what watched her in return—pressed against me even in solitude.
And the moon did not look away.