Chapter 5 A flicker of hope
Now I don't know what to think.
Seven rhythmic knocks sound on my door. Damon again. Always Damon, checking on me when no one else seems to care.
"Can I come in?" he asks.
I don't have the energy to respond, so I knock once on the wall. Our signal for yes.
The door opens, and I feel him enter without turning around. He stands there silently, and I can sense his eyes on my back. Studying me. Worrying about me.
I take a deep breath through my nose and catch the scent of food. My stomach growls loudly despite my best efforts to ignore it.
"Yeah, I brought your favorite," Damon says softly.
Kjøttkaker. Meatballs made with minced beef and spices—nutmeg, pepper, ginger. Served with potatoes, cabbage stew, and brown gravy. The smell makes my mouth water even though I don't want to eat.
The first time I had this meal was when I was five years old, shortly after being found by the Grey family. Mason had approached me with a plate, said it was his favorite and there wasn't any more, but he wanted to share with me anyway.
That was the moment I knew he was special. That was when our friendship really began.
"It was Mason's favorite," I mumble into my pillow. "I ate it because he liked it."
"Oh." Damon's voice sounds uncertain, like he's not sure what to say. "But... thank you for bringing food."
I force myself to turn around and sit up. My body screams in protest, but I ignore it. I've been feeling my stomach rumble for hours. Can't avoid it anymore.
"Really, thank you," I say again, trying to smile but probably failing. "I don't think I can go downstairs and face anyone."
"You don't look bad," Damon says quickly, but I catch him glancing at my face and grimacing slightly.
"Liar." I try to cover my face with my sleeves as I walk over to take the plate from him. "I look awful. Like that time I rolled down the creek bank and ended up swimming in mud."
A tiny smirk crosses Damon's face. "You made me promise never to bring that up again."
"Aspen was such a jerk for tripping me," I huff, and despite everything, a small genuine laugh escapes my throat. That memory feels like it's from a different lifetime.
But the laughter dies quickly, replaced by awkward silence. I shift uncomfortably, clutching the plate.
Damon steps closer, his light grey eyes locking onto mine. His shoulder-length white-blonde hair moves with the movement.
I look down, suddenly self-conscious about how terrible I must look. I've never been vain, but growing up surrounded by gorgeous wolves with silver and white hair and perfect pale skin made me aware of my differences. I always tried to look my best, not to compete but to feel less out of place.
Since Stella arrived, that feeling of not belonging has grown ten times worse.
Damon gently places his hands on my shoulders. With his other hand, he tilts my chin up until I'm forced to meet his eyes again.
"I know nothing I say will fix this," he says quietly. "I don't expect it to. But I want you to know one thing."
I blink at him, waiting.
"None of this is your fault, Sage. From the first day I met you when you were this tiny kid who barely spoke, you were fierce. Tough. Unbreakable. You survived things that would have killed other wolves. Some things have changed that you weren't expecting, but you're going to get through this because if anyone can turn something terrible into something good, it's you. Your name literally means 'wise and knowing.' Don't forget who you are."
His words wrap around me like a warm blanket. For the first time in days, I feel something other than pain. Something like hope. Small and fragile, but there.
"I'll be downstairs if you need me," Damon adds, squeezing my shoulder once before pointing to his head. "You know where to find me."
When the door closes and I'm alone again, I can't help but smile. A real smile that actually reaches my eyes.
Even if it only lasts a few seconds, Damon reminded me of who I was before all this. Who Luna and I are supposed to be. We came to this pack with nothing and built ourselves into something strong.
This situation is horrible. It hurts more than anything I've ever experienced. But I'll keep going because that's what I do. That's who I am.
Maybe Mason could find his mate, which means mine might be out there too. Maybe eventually Stella will stop tormenting me once she feels secure as Luna. Maybe things will get better.
That night, I manage to sleep without crying. My heart still aches, but I don't let it drag me under like before. Tomorrow is a new day. A chance to start fresh. A chance to be stronger.
I wake up at five-thirty the next morning, half an hour before everyone else in the castle usually gets up. I want to catch the sunrise, but mostly I want to avoid seeing anyone at breakfast.
I'm not ready to face the pack after what happened in the dining hall. They all saw Stella humiliate me. Saw Mason do nothing to stop it. I need more time before I can look them in the eye again.
By six o'clock, I've shifted into my wolf form and I'm running through the forest. Luna stretches her legs, feeling the cool morning air in our fur. The snow has started melting, leaving the ground muddy and uneven, but we don't care.
We run at full speed, leaving claw marks on trees as we pass. We're free out here. Unstoppable. For a little while, we can forget everything else and just exist.
By seven, we're both exhausted but in a good way. The kind of tired that comes from exercise and fresh air, not from crying yourself to sleep. I shift back behind a large tree where I left my clothes and start getting dressed.
"Hey."
I freeze. That voice—I don't recognize it. The accent is different too. Not from our pack.
My heart pounds as I quickly pull my hair back, trying to make myself presentable even though I'm half-dressed behind a tree.
"I know you're there," the voice says again, and that's when recognition hits me like ice water.
Stella.
I finish dressing as fast as I can, my hands shaking. When I finally step out from behind the tree, she's standing a few feet away with that unnaturally wide smile plastered on her face.
Her platinum hair is perfect despite the early hour. Her ice-blue eyes sparkle in the morning light. She looks like she stepped out of a magazine instead of tracking someone through a muddy forest.
I know immediately that she's here to hurt me. The way she's looking at me, like a predator who's cornered her prey, makes my whole body tense with fear.
I need to get out of here. Now.
But it's already too late.