Chapter 10 CHAPTER 10
I woke the next morning with a hollowness in my chest that felt heavier than anything I wanted to carry. The memory of the necklace glinted at me from the dresser, a reminder of everything I could not escape no matter how tightly I tried to close my heart.
I showered quickly and dressed even faster because I needed air that did not belong to this house or the secrets suffocating me. As soon as I stepped outside, the wind felt sharp enough to scrape my thoughts clean.
I walked toward town with a restless energy that did not fade even as familiar scents drifted across my senses. Every footstep made me think of Branden, even though I refused to acknowledge why my thoughts always circled back to him. The guilt and the longing were two animals in my chest clawing at each other without mercy.
By the time the café appeared in view, my shoulders were tight from trying to keep my emotions contained.
Tasha was already there, sitting hunched over the table with both hands wrapped around her mug like she needed the warmth to keep herself steady. When she looked up, her eyes were too bright and rimmed with worry thicker than the steam rising from her drink.
I sat beside her instead of across from her because she looked like she needed someone close. She leaned into me immediately, her breath trembling against my shoulder.
“I shifted again,” she whispered, and she did not need to say anything more because the fear in her eyes said enough. Her hands were shaking as she tried to drink, but the tea sloshed against the rim and nearly spilled.
I took the mug from her gently and placed it on the table while she held her breath like a frightened child. “I woke up in the woods behind the old training field,” she continued, and my stomach dropped.
“Did anyone see you,” I asked, and she shook her head but not with any real confidence. Her lips pressed together as if she was trying to convince herself she was safe even though she clearly was not. “I smelled someone,” she whispered, “but I ran back home before I could find out who it was.” The image of Tasha alone in the darkness, shifting without control, made a surge of protectiveness rush through me.
“We need help,” I said, and she stiffened because she had been waiting for the moment I would say that. Her eyes filled with tears that she tried to blink away, but one slipped down her cheek anyway.
“If the Luna hears about this, she will announce it to the whole pack,” she said softly. “And if Branden hears about it, he will order a full evaluation,” I finished, and she nodded miserably.
For a long moment neither of us said anything because the weight of our problems filled the space between us like thick fog. Tasha dug her nails into her palms, and I knew she was thinking of consequences that would end her independence. “Just promise me you will not tell anyone,” she pleaded, her voice thin with desperation.
I nodded because even if I wanted to help her, betraying her trust would break her completely.
We talked for a little longer, mostly in whispered fragments, before she finally gathered herself enough to stand. I walked her to her door and waited until she was safely inside, though she offered only a strained smile before closing it. Once alone again, I felt a gnawing in my stomach that refused to settle, as if something was waiting beyond the edges of the day.
I almost turned back home, but a messenger from the pack approached before I could move.
He stopped in front of me and bowed politely, though his eyes flickered with something curious. “Ayla,” he said, “the Luna requested your presence at the Ember Hall.” My breath caught because invitations from her were rare and often formal, something reserved for events or duties.
“Now,” he added, and the finality of the word made my pulse quicken.
I followed him across the grounds, my heart thrumming with a mixture of fear and curiosity. The Luna had always been kind in the way a fading candle was kind, soft and warm but carrying a sadness that made people speak gently around her. Today that sadness felt heavier in the air, as if it had seeped into the stones of the Ember Hall.
When I reached the entrance, the messenger bowed again and left me alone.
Inside, the hall glowed with muted light from tall windows covered in embroidered curtains. The Luna stood near the far end, her pregnant belly outlined beneath a long gown, her hands resting on the curve as if she were cradling fragile hope.
She smiled when she saw me, but it was a small smile that did not reach her eyes. “Ayla,” she said softly, “thank you for coming so quickly.”
I bowed my head out of respect before walking closer, though my throat felt dry.
She studied me with an expression I could not decipher, a mixture of kindness and something almost searching. It made my skin prick with awareness, like she could sense something beneath my surface. “How have you been feeling,” she asked, and the gentleness in her voice only made my nerves worse.
“I have been well,” I answered, trying to sound steady even though the memory of Branden burned against my ribs. She nodded slowly and moved to sit on a cushioned chair beside a low table filled with herbs and small vials. “I wanted to speak with you because there have been unusual things happening in the pack,” she said. “I wonder if you have noticed anything strange.”
Her eyes rested on me with such quiet intensity that I had to force myself to breathe evenly. I thought of Tasha shifting in the woods, uncontrolled and terrified, and I thought of Branden’s gift hidden in my room like a secret waiting to explode. “I have not seen anything troubling,” I said, choosing my words with care. “But I can keep an eye out if you wish.”
The Luna studied my face in silence, her gaze softening into something that almost resembled sorrow. “I appreciate that,” she murmured, though her tone suggested she did not entirely believe me. She reached for a small glass vial and turned it between her fingers as if the motion helped her think.
“Sometimes the truth hides where people least expect it,” she said, and her eyes flicked to mine in a way that sent a chill down my spine.
For a brief moment I wondered if she could scent Branden on me from two days ago, lingering in ways I could not hide. My pulse hammered, and she noticed the shift, though she did not comment on it. Instead, she placed the vial back on the table and clasped her hands gently over her stomach.
“The Alpha has been restless,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “and I find myself worried.”
Her voice cracked on the last word, and it startled me more than anything she had said. The Luna rarely let cracks show, yet here she sat, looking tired and quietly afraid. I felt guilt climb higher in my chest, sharp and unforgiving, because I had been part of the reason Branden was restless.
“If you ever notice anything that could ease his burdens, please come to me,” she said softly.
“I will,” I promised, though the promise tasted like ash because I knew I was not the person who should ease anything for him. She tried to smile again, but it flickered like a candle struggling against wind. “You have always seemed honest,” she said, which sent a sting straight through me because honesty was the last thing I had been.
She dismissed me gently, thanking me for my time, and I bowed before leaving the hall with my heart pounding.
The walk back home felt longer than the distance allowed, as if every step carried the heaviness of new secrets pressing into my bones. I kept replaying the conversation, searching for hints of what she truly suspected. Her sadness lingered in my thoughts, fragile and haunting, and it made the guilt inside me feel like a living thing. By the time I reached my street, the weight of it all made my knees feel weak.
When I entered my house, I closed the door and leaned back against it, pressing a hand to my chest as if I could keep my heart from breaking apart. The necklace still waited on my dresser like a promise I should never have accepted.
Tasha was struggling with something dangerous, the Luna was drowning in suspicion and sorrow, and Branden was a temptation pulling me toward a future I was afraid to imagine. As I stared at the gleaming rose pendant, I realized that every choice I made from here on would decide which of us would fall first.