Chapter 126 From this House to His Arms

Chapter 126 From this House to His Arms
Opal's POV
The kitchen had finally been scrubbed clean. Or... mostly. There were still a few mysterious frosting smudges on the ceiling, a disturbing outline of Ridge's body imprinted in flour near the fridge, and the faint smell of burned sprinkles lingering in the air.
Opal sat on the back porch, a mug of warm tea cradled in her hands. The sun hadn't yet risen; the horizon was still a sleepy gradient of navy and gray. Mist clung to the trees just beyond their property, curling like lazy fingers through the grass.
Her head was buzzing—not from exhaustion, though she was certainly tired—but from everything that had happened.
She was going to be Kael's mate.
She had chosen love over fate. Or maybe… maybe love was
fate, just disguised in a choice.
She was giving up her place in her home pack to become Luna of another.
And she was okay
with it.
Almost.
The door creaked behind her.
"Is it safe?" came her mother's voice.
Opal smiled into her tea. "If you're asking about the cake, it's been destroyed."
"Praise the Goddess," Luna Lila muttered, stepping barefoot onto the porch. Her dark hair was pulled into a messy braid, and she wore a thick robe wrapped tightly around her frame. Despite the early hour, her eyes were clear. Sharp. Gentle.
The kind of eyes that had ruled beside Alpha Griffin for over two decades.
She sank into the wooden rocking chair beside Opal with a content sigh. "Your brother is a menace."
"Which one?" Opal teased.
"All of them, but especially
Forrest."
They sat in silence for a few long moments. The kind that only existed between mothers and daughters—filled with the weight of unspoken words, and a softness that came from years of shared space.
Lila turned toward her, her voice softer now. "I heard what you told your brothers. About choosing Kael. About becoming his Luna."
Opal tensed slightly, setting her mug down. "I was going to talk to you and Dad. I just… I wanted to tell them first."
"You don't need to explain, sweetheart." Lila reached over and took her hand. "I wanted to talk to you because… this isn't a small thing. And I want you to understand what
you're stepping into."
Opal looked down at their joined hands. "I know I'm not going to be Alpha. I know I'm giving that up."
Lila squeezed her fingers. "And that's not a loss, Opal. That's a choice.
One I'm proud of you for making."
Opal's eyes snapped up. "You are?"
"I am," Lila said, smiling. "Because you didn't pick the easy path. You picked the one that scared you. The one that challenged you. The one that requires faith, and strength, and a kind of love most people only dream
about."
Opal's throat tightened. "I wasn't sure you'd be okay with it. I know there were expectations—"
"Only from the world," Lila interrupted. "Never from me."
Opal blinked rapidly, trying not to cry at five-freaking-thirty in the morning.

Lila leaned back, the chair creaking beneath her. "Do you know what it means to be a Luna?"
Opal hesitated. "Support the Alpha. Keep the peace. Represent the pack with him."
Lila gave a soft laugh. "Those are the duties,
yes. But being a Luna is… so much more than what the books tell you."
She paused, looking out at the fog-draped forest.
"Being Luna means sacrifice," she said quietly. "Not in the way people think. It doesn't mean you give up your power—it means you wield
it differently. A Luna holds the Alpha together when the weight of leadership threatens to crush him. She sees what others miss. She listens when he can't. She strategizes, so he doesn't have to walk into every fire alone."
Opal's eyes narrowed slightly. "Sounds like more work than being Alpha."
Lila smiled, eyes twinkling. "It is. And it's worth
it. Because the pack needs both.
Just like wolves need more than teeth to survive. They need warmth. Guidance. Love. Balance."
She reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Opal's ear.
"You could've been a powerful Alpha, Opal. You still are
powerful. But this choice—this path you've carved with your own hands—it's just as sacred. Just as brave."
Opal's voice wavered. "Kael isn't from our pack. He doesn't have our blood. But he... he feels like home."
Lila nodded. "Then he's already part of our family."
There was another beat of silence.
Then Opal asked, "Do you think the Moon Goddess will be angry that I didn't wait for my fated mate?"
Lila shook her head gently. "Sometimes, fate comes in the form of choice. That's the part no one teaches us. The Moon Goddess may write the stars—but sometimes she hands us
the pen. Sometimes she lets us be the author of our own story."
Opal let out a shaky breath. "That's terrifying."
"It's liberating.
" Lila smiled. "You're not rejecting your destiny, Opal. You're embracing it. On your terms."
Opal wiped a tear from her cheek and let out a watery laugh. "I didn't expect to cry today."
"I did," Lila said smugly.
They both laughed then, the sound soft but steady, blending into the waking sounds of the forest.
"I'm scared," Opal admitted after a moment. "Not of Kael. But of... leaving here. Of becoming something else. Something more."
"That's normal," Lila said. "You're leaving behind the girl you were. And becoming the woman you're meant to be."
"Is that why you married Dad?"
Lila chuckled. "Partly. He was handsome. Had a great wolf. Decent aim with a hunting bow. And," she added, raising a brow, "he used to write me poems. Terrible ones. But they were sincere."
"Oh my god," Opal laughed. "Dad wrote poetry
?"
"I still have them hidden in a drawer somewhere."
"That's blackmail material."
"Exactly."
Opal leaned into her mother, resting her head on her shoulder.
"I don't know what kind of Luna I'll be."
"You'll be your own kind," Lila said. "And that's all the Goddess asks."
The back door creaked again.
Ash stepped onto the porch, shirtless and still half-covered in frosting. "Mom, Forrest poured Gatorade in the fish tank."
Lila didn't even blink. "Was it blue?"
"Yes?"
"Good. That's the calming one."
Ash squinted. "You're not surprised."
"I've raised that boy for seventeen and a half years. Nothing surprises me anymore."
Ash shook his head, then looked at Opal.
"You good?"
She nodded. "Yeah. I'm good."
He nodded back. "Good."
Then he left.
Lila smirked. "He's really trying his best not to have feelings."
Opal grinned. "He's failing."
They both watched the sun rise in silence for a few more minutes.
Eventually, Lila stood and kissed her daughter's forehead.
"I'm proud of you, Opal. And Kael is lucky."
"I'm the lucky one," Opal said.
"No," Lila said. "You both
are."
And with that, she disappeared back into the house, leaving Opal alone with the morning, the mist, and a very full heart.

Opal stood in the center of her bedroom, surrounded by half-packed boxes and the quiet hum of a house not all yet awake. Some of her siblings went back to bed.
The early morning sunlight filtered in through her curtains, casting soft gold streaks across the floorboards. Dust motes floated in the beams, drifting lazily, like even they were reluctant to move.
Her fingers rested on the edge of her dresser. The drawer was open, half-filled with clothes she hadn't worn in months. Some of them didn't fit anymore. Some were just memories she wasn't ready to let go of.
But it was time.
In a few days—maybe even less—she would be moving into Kael's home. Into their
home.
And this room—her room—would no longer belong to her.
She'd picked the color of the walls when she was nine. A soft, misty gray-blue that reminded her of early morning fog. Her shelves were still lined with childhood books, some of them so worn their covers were held together with tape. Her mirror was cracked in the corner from when she and Brooks had been sparring and he accidentally flung a comb across the room.
A smile tugged at her lips.
She crossed to the far wall, where a small box sat tucked beneath her window seat.
She hadn't opened it in years.
Sinking to the floor, Opal pulled it out and lifted the lid.
Inside was her entire childhood.
A cracked plastic tiara from when Ridge used to call her "Queen Mudpie" after she buried her snacks in the backyard "for later." A finger-painted card with "To OpaL from FOrest" written in clumsy, backwards letters. She ran her thumb over it, eyes misting.
God, even then, he'd been him.

One of her favorite old bracelets—woven with dark green and blue thread—was still looped around a faded photograph of her and all four of her brothers, sitting in a pile of autumn leaves, faces covered in dirt, all laughing like nothing else in the world mattered.
She traced each of their faces.
Ash, already trying to look older than his years. Ridge, half-smiling, trying to play it cool but visibly thrilled to be with them. Brooks, beaming like a golden retriever in human form. And Forrest—mud in his hair, leaf stuck to his cheek, mid-cackle. Pure chaos in a child-sized body.
Opal laughed under her breath.
One time, when they were five, Forrest had convinced her that if they put all the soap from the guest bathroom into the fish tank, it would "make the fish smell good for guests." The entire hallway had foamed for hours
. Her mother still referred to it as "The Great Aquatic Incident."
And there was the time he snuck frogs into her bed "so you'd never be lonely."
But for every insane thing he did, there were sweet ones too.
When she got sick in the third grade and missed a week of school, Forrest had drawn her daily comics
about a superhero wolf named "Luna Girl" and her sidekick, "Captain Flatulence." They were horrible.
She had loved every one.
Opal reached deeper into the box and pulled out a crumpled drawing: a stick-figure wolf family, labeled with names. Hers had a crown and sparkles. Forrest's had a mohawk and fire coming out of its mouth.
"Why does your wolf breathe fire?" she had asked.
"For dominance," he'd replied matter-of-factly.
She folded the paper back up, gently, and placed it in her keep pile.
She stood and crossed the room, letting her fingers trail across her old bookshelf. One spine stuck out crookedly—The Moon and the Forest
, her favorite book growing up. She remembered sitting under the covers with a flashlight, reading it out loud while her brothers huddled around her during thunderstorms.
Ash used to roll his eyes and say he wasn't scared of lightning. But he never left the room during those readings.
Her eyes caught on a chipped wolf figurine near the window. Brooks had bought it for her from a flea market when they were twelve. He'd told her it reminded him of her because "its eyes looked like they knew everything."
Opal picked it up, smiled, and whispered, "He was such a suck-up."
The next box was full of old clothes and wolf plushies. She pulled one out—a lopsided, faded gray thing that Forrest had insisted
she name "Snarlbeast." He used to animate it during dinner, shoving it into mashed potatoes or dramatically throwing it at Ridge mid-conversation.
"I'm Snarlbeast,
and I demand tater tots!" Forrest used to shout in the middle of meals, complete with a voice that sounded like a frog with a megaphone.
Opal hugged it to her chest now, unable to keep the tears from slipping down her cheeks.
She wasn't just packing up a room.
She was saying goodbye to a version of herself—the little girl who had stood between four howling boys and claimed her space with elbows, teeth, and determination.
She set Snarlbeast on her pillow and glanced at the wall near her closet.
Scratches in the wood, faint but still visible—their growth marks.
They had lined up there every birthday, a ruler in one hand and a Sharpie in the other.
Forrest had drawn flames on his name once.
Opal wiped her sleeve across her eyes and whispered, "I'm not ready."
But she was.
She just didn't want to leave this part behind.
A knock came at her door.
She cleared her throat and tried to sound normal. "Yeah?"
It creaked open, and Ash peeked inside.
He took one look at her and frowned. "You okay?"
Opal gestured around the room. "Just… packing memories."
He stepped inside, carefully avoiding the open box of books on the floor. "You find the tiara?"
She laughed. "Yeah. And the Mudpie card."
He grinned, then softened. "You don't have to rush it, you know. This is still your home."
She nodded. "I know. But soon it won't be my room. I'll have my own space with Kael. A different
kind of home."
Ash ran a hand through his hair and sat on the edge of her bed. "You're going to make it amazing. He's going to build a shelf and you're going to tell him it's crooked and then he'll rebuild it five times."
She smiled. "Sounds accurate."
They sat in silence for a moment before he added, "You're going to be a great Luna."
"I hope so."
"You don't need to hope," Ash said. "You're already half of what makes this family work. Being Luna's just an extension of that."
Opal sniffed and leaned into him. "Thanks for not freaking out."
"Please," he scoffed. "I internally freaked out.
Externally, I was a pillar of calm and wisdom."
"You literally threatened to castrate Forrest two hours ago."
"He fed Dad Ex-Lax cake. My reaction was measured."
She laughed, resting her head on his shoulder.
"I'm gonna miss this room," she murmured.
He looked around. "Yeah. It's weird to think about you not being here."
Opal glanced toward the hallway. "What are the odds Forrest tries to turn it into a home gym and ends up drilling a hole in the floor?"
"High," Ash said immediately. "Very high."
They both laughed again.
And for a little while, they just sat there.
Not Alpha and Luna.
Not warriors or heirs or fated anything.
Just a brother and a sister.
Just Opal.
Just Ash.
In the room where everything started.