Page 106 of Moonlit Fate

He tensed, the muscles of his broad shoulders coiling like spring-loaded traps. “You absolutely can. You are the strongest person I know,” he said.

I shook my head and looked into his eyes, deep wells that brimmed with pain. “No,” I said. “It’s too intense, too much on top of everything else that has just been thrust upon me. If I’m with you, I’ll lose myself. And right now, the pack... the world... it needs me whole. And to do that, I need space from you.”

The fire in his eyes dimmed, and conflict played out across his features. He wanted to fight for us, but he knew the stakes as well as I did. My courage wavered, but I forced myself to stand firm. This was the price of leadership, the cost of the crown that rested on my reluctant head.

“Please,” I said, a final plea for him to understand. For a split second, I saw the rogue wolf in him, the one who defied conventions and fought against serendipity. But then, like smoke on the wind, it dissipated, leaving only Atticus, the man who loved me enough to let me go.

With only the fire as a witness, we shared a quiet agony. Love and fate had intertwined our lives, only to force them apart when we most needed to hold on.

With each tear that fell, a piece of what might have been slipped from me. I forced the words out, my confession spilling into the vast emptiness of the manor’s grand hall. “When that knife pressed against my throat, all I could think about was you, Atticus. You filled every corner of my mind, and then we lost our alpha, my father. Do you know how terrifying that is?”

Tears welled in his eyes, the sight of them unraveling the last threads of my composure. “I can’t lose you,” he said. “Not now, not ever.”

“Which is why this has to end,” I said, choking back a sob. “If we continue, I won’t be able to lead. I won’t be able to protect our pack. I’ll put you above everything and everyone else, and I know you’ll do the same for me. And we cannot allow that to happen.”

His strong arms, arms that had been my sanctuary over these last weeks, were suddenly a prison from which I needed to escape. He brushed a kiss on my forehead, so tender and fraught with a silent goodbye that it tore at me. His tears landed softly on my skin, mixing with my own.

“Love isn’t supposed to hurt like this,” I said, but even as the words left my lips, I knew they were futile. This was the agony of a love too bold, too consuming for the roles fate had thrust on us.

Without another word, he turned away, the finality in his steps echoing through the hollow space. The door closed behind him with a quiet thud, a definitive end to the chapter of us.

Alone, surrounded by the cold opulence of my home, I wrapped my arms around myself. Here, in the stillness, I felt the full weight of the crown and the solitude it demanded. Power still ran amok inside me, aching for release.

27

ARIA

Ikicked a pebble on the seer’s cluttered floor, holding back the urge to scream. My skin buzzed as if a colony of bees were trapped underneath the surface, a restless energy waiting to break free. It had started after the ritual two weeks ago, and since then, the sensation had built and built, becoming increasingly overwhelming until it was nearly unbearable.

“Will you just listen?” I snapped at the seer, who continued grinding herbs with an absolutely exasperating nonchalance, unfazed by my frustration. I’d known better than to expect a clear answer from him, but I’d hoped forsomethingmore than what he was giving me.

He didn’t bother looking up from his mortar and pestle. “Patience, girl.”

“Patience is a luxury I don’t have,” I shot back. “There’s something wrong. Can’t you feel it?”

“Wrong is a matter of perspective,” he said cryptically, deftly sprinkling the crushed herbs into the pot. The boiling liquid emitted a fragrant steam.

“Perspective won’t stop what’s coming.” I threw my hands up and kept pacing.

“Ah, but what is coming?” he mused as he stirred the mixture. “That, girl, is the question. What of the male one? Was he present at the time of the ritual?”

“Stop it with the riddles.” I glared at the seer’s back. “If you’d listened to me, you’d have heard me tell you Atticus was there during the ritual. Maybe that’s why?—”

“Atticus. Yes, yes that’s the boy.” Oh, yeah,nowhe turned to look me in the eye. “What of your relationship with him?”

“That’s none of your business.” Annoyance flared at his prying. “Can we focus on the problem?”

He shifted his attention back to his concoction. “Relationships are often the problem.”

“Look, we’re not together, okay?” I said, more harshly than I intended.

“You foolish girl,” he scolded, forcefully stirring another ingredient into the pot. “Everything was there. What have you done? All you had to do was follow the instructions that were clearly laid out for you.”

His words were a slap in the face. “How can you stand there and say you laid it out clearly when you’re instructions were as clear as mud?”

“Clarity is in the eye of the beholder,” he said with a dismissive wave.

“Great help you are,” I muttered.

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