Chapter 46 Whispered Thorns
Evie:
The bonfire crackled behind me, its light warm against my back as I carried a tray of roasted fruit toward the long table. Wolves laughed around the flames. Music drifted through the clearing, soft and bright. For a moment, it almost washed away the cold ripple under my skin.
Almost.
The whole night had been good. Better than good. The pack had smiled at me, spoken to me like I belonged among them. Grayson had been warm and present. Even Harrow had teased me like the old days. But the echo of Isabella’s words clung to me like smoke.
Things settle better when one knows their place.
A compliment to others. A warning to me.
I set the tray on the table and stepped back, brushing crumbs off my fingers. The prickling sensation along the back of my neck returned. A soft shiver. A feeling of eyes where no eyes should be. I turned, scanning the tree line, but nothing moved.
Maybe I was tired. Maybe my mind was too loud. I inhaled slowly and turned, but Isabella stood in front of me.
Close enough that the firelight caught the pale sheen of her silk dress. Her smile was soft, almost kind, as if she had simply wandered over to chat. Her voice when she spoke matched the expression.
"Luna Evangeline," she said. "I was hoping to speak with you."
My fingers curled. "I thought you already had."
She gave a quiet laugh. Tidy. Controlled. "That was a toast. This is different."
Around us, the pack was busy with food, stories, and games. We stood just outside the ring of firelight, near enough to be seen but far enough to be unheard. She had chosen her place well.
"I wanted to say," she began, tilting her head with an air of gentle sincerity, "you have handled yourself well tonight. The pack warms to you now."
Warmth pricked my chest, unearned and unwelcome. "I am doing my best," I said.
"And it shows," she replied. "But Evangeline. You must understand something."
Her tone softened even more. Almost maternal. Almost reassuring. Almost believable.
"You give Grayson loyalty, but he keeps a corner of his night for Chloe."
My breath stuttered.
She continued smoothly, "First loves do not fade easily. People forget the depth of what they shared. I do not say this to hurt you. Only to prepare you."
I swallowed, fighting the instinct to recoil.
"You are new at being seen," she said. "New at holding a space in this house. It can be overwhelming. Especially when the memories of someone else live in every room."
Her gaze slid past me, toward the bonfire. "You must learn which moments are meant for you and which are meant for the image of the Luna. They are not always the same."
My throat tightened. "Isabella..."
She lifted a hand gently, a gesture that said calm, calm, I am only helping. But my wolf bristled under my skin.
"He can protect you and still keep his heart elsewhere. This is something women of position learn early. There is no shame in it."
My hands trembled at my sides. I forced them still.
"I only wanted to help you see what others will not tell you," she added softly.
Her words landed like stones on wet soil, sinking deep, leaving ripples that tightened around my ribs.
"I do not think this is..."
"Evie."
Grayson’s voice cut through the air like a clean blade.
He stepped between us without hesitation, his body shielding mine instinctively. His scent hit me first, familiar and steady. His jaw was locked, his posture commanding.
"Isabella," he said, his tone level but edged with warning.
She smiled up at him. A perfect picture of innocence. "Alpha heir. I was simply speaking with your Luna."
"I heard enough." His voice did not rise, but the power in it spread like a ripple across the clearing. "That is enough."
She blinked at him, as though confused by his tone. "I beg your pardon?"
"You do not speak to her like that," he said, louder now, letting the crowd hear. "She is my Luna. Do not make her smaller with your words."
A few heads turned. A murmur ran through the circle. Mothers exchanged glances. Harrow straightened, watching closely.
Isabella’s smile thinned, but her voice remained smooth. "I only meant to guide her. She is young in her role."
"Your guidance is not needed." His voice held no room for argument. "Not now. Not ever in that way."
The pack quieted around us, the music slowing, the flames hissing softly. People listened. Some nodded. Some seemed relieved.
It should have made me feel safe.
Instead, something inside me folded in on itself.
Was he protecting me?
Or protecting the image?
The role?
The peace he had built?
The doubt Isabella planted pulsed like a bruise.
He defends you because the pack is watching.
He defends you because he must.
He defends the Luna, not the woman.
I tried to breathe, but something stung in my chest. Too sharp. Too familiar.
Isabella dipped her head with graceful reluctance. "As you wish," she said. "I would never disrespect your household."
She turned to leave, but as she stepped past me, she leaned close enough that only I heard the words.
"You were once fooled," she whispered. "Hearts that want something they cannot have believe anything. Even illusions."
Her breath grazed my ear. "You become easy to fool when the ache is familiar."
My lungs froze.
She walked away without looking back.
The bonfire picked up again, laughter rising as if nothing had shifted. Children ran past us with sticky fingers. Music restarted. The pack exhaled.
Grayson turned to me immediately.
"Evie," he said, voice gentle now. Worried. "Do not listen to her. She twists things. I am here with you. Not with the ghosts."
But his words felt far away, muffled under the weight Isabella had left behind.
Something heavy coiled in my chest. A tiny crack. A splinter. A doubt.
He touched my arm lightly, concern darkening his eyes. "Talk to me."
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Not the truth. Not even fear. Not anything.
I lowered my gaze, nodding once, pretending I believed him. Pretending the seed had not already taken root. Pretending my heart had not started to tense, waiting for something to go wrong.
The fire popped loudly. Sparks shot upward like tiny stars. And the warmth of the past month felt suddenly fragile in my hands.
So fragile that it almost broke.