Chapter 23

Chapter 23
Whispers in the Dark

Claire's POV

I jolted upright, heart racing, the taste of metal on my tongue.

The room was dark and quiet except for the low hum of medical equipment. The infirmary. My last memory was of collapsing outside the pack’s old training ground… or is it the Alpha's quarters?

Everything blurred after the fight.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and winced as my toes touched the cold floor. No healers, no guards. Just shadows stretching across the tile. Strange. I was certain someone had been here. Him.

It's crazy how my first thought is Blake when I had just survived a dangerous and traumatic moment with that wolf.

My fingers hovered over the spot on my chest, where the burn had been. Nothing. No pain. No glow. Just smooth skin and a whisper of something I couldn’t name. A pull.

Like something was calling to me.

I crept out of the infirmary, barefoot, ignoring the pinch of chill on my skin. I didn't stop to think why.

I just moved—down the hall, past the dim torches, through the winding corridors of Mirage-Ember’s estate, until I stood in front of the pack library’s oak door.

Locked.

I closed my eyes, pressed my hand flat to the worn surface. A faint hiss rose beneath my palm—then a click. The door creaked open.

Magic. My kind.

The air inside smelled like dust, ink, and secrets. I walked past shelves of ancient volumes and turned toward the narrow stairwell behind the tapestry at the far end. I’d seen it once before. Mirabel had led me past it like it didn’t exist.

But it did.

The stairs spiraled down, steep and slick. My breath came faster with each step. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but something deep in my bones told me I’d know when I saw it.

I can't remember anytime when I've had strong feelings about something like this but now, it didn't feel foreign or odd to me.

The secret basement was round and dimly lit, like a forgotten tomb. The walls were lined with shelves, scrolls stacked high, spines worn by centuries. In the center, a single pedestal stood with a single worn book. Old. Thick. Bound in faded black leather.

I didn’t hesitate.

The second my fingers touched it, something shifted. A gust of cold air rushed through the room. I opened the cover. Pages flipped themselves, stopping halfway through.

There—an illustration of a woman with silver eyes. Not a witch. Not a seer. A Luna. Her hands glowed with light, her chest branded with a mark.

The text blurred in places, but I read aloud softly.

“The cursed Luna bears a gift. One that can either save her Alpha… or destroy him. Her love is a blade and a balm. Her bond—fatal or fated.”

My mouth went dry.

It was me. Maybe there was another Luna that existed before me that had thesame skills that I have.

This is probably a way to deal with my current situation.

I kept reading. The book spoke of Alphas poisoned by ambition, corrupted by darkness—and the Lunas bound to them by a fate older than the moon. Each time, their love either broke the curse or ended everything.

A sound broke behind me.

I whirled around. “Who's there?”

I didn't suspect that anyone would follow me or come here. Who could it be this time?

A figure stepped from the shadows, tall and quiet. I knew his silhouette. The way he moved—controlled, dangerous, haunted.

“Blake.”

He didn’t say anything. Just stared. The silence between us was thick enough to choke on.

I closed the book. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.”

My heart thudded with his reply. How is it possible, that he could easily sneak up on me without me even realizing he was there all this time.

I hugged the book to my chest, backing a step toward the pedestal. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”

And it was true. I was pulled to this place by some innate and inexplicable force. I hope this won't make things worse than it was already.

“I didn’t say you were.”

His voice was low, unreadable. His eyes dropped to the book in my arms, then back to mine. “You shouldn’t be here, Claire.”

I snapped. “Why? Because I’m dangerous? Or because I’m finally figuring out the truth?”

He flinched—just a flicker, but I saw it.

I stepped closer. “What is this, Blake? What are you hiding? What did you do to the mark?”

His jaw clenched. “It’s gone now.”

“But it was there. It burned. And you saw it.” My voice broke. “I felt like I was being branded.”

He took a step toward me, hands at his sides like he was fighting the urge to reach out.

“I didn’t want to scare you.”

“Too late.” I tossed the book on the pedestal. “You knew something. You still know something. So tell me—” I lifted my chin, voice trembling. “Did you ever want me?”

He froze.

I didn't care about the stupid mark. I just wanted to be sure I wasn't wasting my time on feelings that will obviously hurt me.

The seconds dragged. My heart thudded so loud I swore it echoed.

Nothing.

“Say something,” I whispered.

Still, he said nothing. I was to give up that all this time, I was hoping for something that didn't just make sense.

But then he moved.

His hand caught my wrist and yanked me to him—rough, desperate. His mouth crashed onto mine before I could breathe. My thoughts scattered. His kiss was fire and fury and of many things left unsaid.

My fingers curled in his shirt without thinking, and for one second, the whole world went quiet.

Then he pulled back—just an inch. His breath was ragged, his eyes dark.

“I knew of you,” he whispered, “long before now.”

My knees almost gave out.

“What?”

He didn’t repeat it.

He just stared.

And in the heavy silence, I realized something had just changed.

Everything.