I didn't sleep after that.
I lay in bed, my eyes closed, my breathing steady, pretending to be unconscious while my mind raced through everything I'd overheard. Caleb's confession. Damon's response. The impossible tangle of emotions that bound the three of us together.
When Damon finally slipped back into the hut, I felt the bed dip as he lay down beside me. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me close, and I forced myself to relax into his embrace. To pretend I hadn't heard anything.
But inside, I was screaming.
He loves me. Caleb loves me.
The words echoed in my head, over and over, until I thought I'd go mad. Part of me had known—had felt it in the way he looked at me, the way he touched me, the way he'd thrown himself into danger without hesitation. But hearing it spoken aloud, hearing the pain in his voice, made it real in a way I couldn't ignore.
And Damon knew. He knew, and he trusted Caleb anyway. Trusted him not to act on it. Trusted me not to respond.
The question was: could he trust me? Could I trust myself?
I didn't have an answer.
Morning came eventually, gray and cold. Damon was already gone when I finally gave up on sleep and opened my eyes. His side of the bed was cold—he'd been up for hours.
I dressed slowly, my body still aching from the ordeal, my mind still reeling from the night's revelations. When I finally stepped outside, the pack was already hard at work—warriors training, healers tending the wounded, children running between the huts with their usual chaos.
Normal life. Going on as if nothing had changed.
But everything had changed.
I found Marta in the healing hut, organizing supplies. She looked up when I entered and frowned.
"You should be resting, Luna."
"I've rested enough." I moved to help her, grateful for something to do with my hands. "Tell me about the wounded. How many are still critical?"
Marta sighed, recognizing that I wasn't going to be argued with. "Three. Finn's one of them—that boy took a bad hit protecting the others. He'll recover, but it'll be slow." She paused. "Beta Caleb is healing well. His wolf is strong."
"Caleb." I kept my voice carefully neutral. "I should check on him."
Marta gave me a look I couldn't quite read. "He's in his hut. I was just about to bring him fresh bandages."
"I'll take them."
I gathered the supplies and walked toward Caleb's hut, my heart pounding with every step. What would I say to him? How could I look at him now, knowing what I knew?
The door was slightly ajar. I knocked softly.
"Come in."
His voice was rough, tired. I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Caleb was sitting on the edge of his bed, shirtless, his torso wrapped in bandages that were spotted with fresh blood. He looked up when I entered, and something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe, or longing quickly masked.
"Elara." He started to stand, then winced and sat back down. "You shouldn't be here. You should be resting."
"So everyone keeps telling me." I crossed the room and set the bandages on the table beside him. "I brought these. Marta said you needed changing."
"I can manage."
"I'm sure you can." I met his eyes. "But I'm here now. Let me help."
For a long moment, he just looked at me. Then, slowly, he nodded.
I knelt in front of him and began unwrapping the old bandages. The wound beneath was ugly—a deep gash across his ribs, still pink and raw despite Marta's care. I tried to focus on the injury, on the task at hand, but it was impossible to ignore the warmth of his skin beneath my fingers, the way his muscles tensed at my touch.
"This is going to hurt," I murmured, reaching for the salve Marta had prepared.
"Everything hurts." His voice was quiet. "I'm getting used to it."
I spread the salve gently over the wound, and he hissed but didn't pull away. My hands lingered longer than necessary, tracing the edges of the injury, feeling the rapid beat of his heart just beneath the surface.
"Elara." His voice was rough. "You should stop."
I looked up, and our eyes met. The air between us seemed to crackle with tension, with everything unspoken.
"I heard you," I whispered. "Last night. I heard what you said to Damon."
Caleb went completely still. For a moment, he didn't even breathe. Then, slowly, the color drained from his face.
"You heard."
"All of it." I didn't look away. "Caleb, I..."
"Don't." He cut me off, his voice sharp with pain. "Don't say anything. Please. I know it was wrong. I know I shouldn't have—"
"You saved my life." My voice was soft, steady. "Twice. You held me when I was scared. You looked at me like I mattered when everyone else saw me as just the Luna, just Damon's mate. Do you think I didn't notice? Do you think I didn't feel it too?"
His eyes widened. "Elara, you can't—"
"I'm not saying anything." I leaned closer, close enough to feel his breath on my face. "I'm just telling you the truth. I feel it too. Every time you look at me, every time you touch me, I feel it. And it terrifies me."
For a long moment, neither of us moved. We were frozen there, inches apart, the air between us thick with longing and guilt and desperate, impossible want.
Then Caleb's hand came up, slowly, giving me time to pull away. I didn't. His fingers touched my face, gentle as a whisper, tracing along my cheekbone.
"Elara," he breathed. "We can't."
"I know."
But I didn't move. Neither did he.
His thumb traced across my lower lip, and I shivered. His eyes were dark now, dark as a stormy sea, full of everything he couldn't say.
"This doesn't change anything," he whispered. "I'm still the Beta. You're still the Luna. Damon is still my brother, my Alpha. Nothing can happen between us."
"I know." My voice was barely a breath. "But that doesn't stop me from wanting it."
The words hung between us, heavy and dangerous. Caleb's hand trembled against my face, and I saw the battle raging in his eyes—duty versus desire, honor versus longing.
"Elara." His voice broke on my name. "Please. You have to go. Before I can't let you."
I should have left. Should have stood up, walked out, never looked back. But I was frozen there, caught in the gravity of him, unable to break free.
Instead, I did the worst possible thing.
I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.
It was barely a kiss—just a brush, a whisper, a promise. But it was everything. For one perfect moment, there was no pack, no duty, no Damon—just us, just this, just the electric shock of connection.
Then Caleb pulled back, his eyes wild with horror and desire.
"Elara, no." He pushed me away, not hard but firm. "This is wrong. You're his mate. I'm his Beta. We can't—"
"I know." Tears burned in my eyes. "I know, Caleb. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"
"No. You shouldn't have." He wouldn't look at me now, his gaze fixed on the floor. "Please. Go. Before we both do something we can't take back."
I stood on shaking legs, my heart splintering in my chest. I wanted to say something—anything—but there were no words for this. No words for the impossible thing growing between us.
So I just walked to the door, opened it, and stepped outside.
The sunlight blinded me for a moment, and I stood there, blinking, trying to compose myself. Trying to shove everything back into the box where it belonged.
When my vision cleared, I saw him.
Damon.
Standing twenty feet away, frozen mid-step, his face ashen. He'd seen me leave Caleb's hut. Seen my expression. And in his eyes, I saw the dawning horror of realization.
"Elara." His voice was flat, dangerous. "What were you doing in there?"
I opened my mouth to lie, to explain, to say anything that might fix this. But before I could speak, a howl split the air—sharp, urgent, a warning from the border.
Damon's head whipped around, his body tensing. For a moment, he looked torn—between duty and suspicion, between the pack and his marriage.
The howl came again, more desperate this time.
"Go," I whispered. "The pack needs you."
He stared at me for one long, terrible moment. Then he turned and ran toward the border, leaving me alone with the weight of my guilt and the echo of a kiss that should never have happened.
I pressed my hand to my mouth, holding back a sob.
Whatever was coming, whatever threat the howl announced, it couldn't be worse than what was already here.
The shadows between us had grown teeth.
And they were about to bite.