Page 14 of Moonlit Fate

A disturbance in the shadows suddenly grabbed my focus, making me pause. There, where light and darkness danced, a form lurked, nearly invisible to the untrained eye. I focused, and the shadow coalesced into the unmistakable outline of the rogue.

Cloaked in obscurity, he was a ghost in the revelry. The dim glow of the alcove seemed to shy away from him, yet there he stood. My heart clenched at the sight of him, the rogue wolf who had dared to infiltrate our stronghold. His figure was faint, but now that I was aware of his presence, I couldn’tnotsee him. What power did he have to hide in plain sight this way?

The clamor of the pack’s celebration became a distant hum, as though I stood at the cliff’s edge of the world, staring across an insurmountable chasm. But in that void, there was a tether, an anchor in the form of piercing ice-blue eyes that held mine and seared straight through the chaos.

“Who are you?”I asked.“What is your name?”

“Atticus.”

His name danced through my mind like a secret, offering me a silent sanctuary from across the crowded room. His gaze didn’t falter, didn’t mock or pity. It understood the clash between duty and desire, the longing for freedom that relentlessly tormented my soul. His silent message resonated deeply, an unspoken connection that conveyed a wealth of meaning. I was not alone.

I drew in a breath, one shaky inhale that seemed to drag the oxygen from every corner of the hall. As if his unseen support was a lifeline thrown into raging waters, the panic that had threatened to consume me receded. The rope of terror that had wound around my throat loosened thread by thread, until its frayed edges unraveled altogether.

The moment I straightened my back and rolled my shoulders, the silver gown no longer felt constricting. Instead, it became a dazzling armor, the light reflecting off its intricate embroidery. As insane as it was, the rogue’s presence seemedto weave a veil of might around me. There was a comfort in knowing that even as I stood on the precipice of a future not of my choosing, I was seen. Not as a pawn in the pack’s grand design but as Aria, a being of wild spirit and fierce heart.

The pack’s focus shifted from Larkin and me to the elders as they raised their glasses in a toast to the future. Seizing the opportunity of Larkin’s momentary distraction, I stole a quick glance back at the alcove where the rogue had been. But Atticus was gone, vanished as though he was never there.

My brow furrowed in confusion. His sudden appearance and even more abrupt departure left me reeling. How could he just appear and disappear? The alcove was bathed in the same golden light that filled the rest of the grand hall, offering no sanctuary for anyone to hide. Nothing remained of the rogue who had somehow pierced the chaos to reach me and still the tumult in my soul with his silent words.

Who was this enigmatic wolf who could vanish into thin air and speak directly into my soul? What did he want with me? And why now, amid the spectacle of my mating announcement, a ceremony that overwhelmed me with a sense of confinement rather than joy?

5

ATTICUS

The forest was a blur of dark silhouettes as I raced toward the security of my den. What the fuck had I just done? Had I been wise to attend that party? Did my feet carry me away from my own questionable decisions swiftly enough? Probably not.

The night air was cool against my heated skin, which usually calmed my restless spirit. But not tonight. Tonight, it was laced with questions that nipped at my heels, urging me to run faster, to flee from my stupid choices.

I’d gone to the gathering unseen, shrouded in the comforting embrace of darkness. My shadow manipulation wasn’t a mere skill; it was a preternatural gift, a dance with the night itself. It allowed me to slip through the throngs of shifters unnoticed, to be nothing more than a whisper in their midst. Such gifts were a double-edged sword. Many, especially those in the packs, viewed them with fear and trepidation.

And there, among the revelry and unsuspecting people, I found Aria.

The telepathic connection between us had sparked so easily, and as powerful as a live wire. It was a rarity to find anyonewhose mind touched mine with such clarity and intensity. As wolves, it was easy to speak to another in the same form. In our human skin, connections could be built with packmates over time that allowed the same type of communication, but what had happened tonight was unprecedented. Through the crowd of thoughts and emotions swirling around the room, Aria’s had stood out and drawn me in, even though I knew I should have stayed away.

The dense underbrush brushed against my skin as I replayed the moment our minds had met. The sensation had been electric, a current that surged through me with a rush I’d never experienced before. Her surprise had mirrored my own. Such a connection could not be easily dismissed. It was a profound and intimate encounter.

Why had I revealed myself to her? Why had I allowed our minds to intertwine? I could have remained a phantom, a figment of the night.

Nevertheless, there was an alluring quality about Aria, an element that tempted me to forsake the cloak of obscurity I had relied on for so long. What had I done? If she’d exposed me, told the secrets of my manipulation of the shadows to her father, to her pack... it wasn’t just my life in danger, but those attached to me. Not a pack, no, but shifters who had earned my trust. Shifters I had chosen to love and respect.

I skidded to a halt at the mouth of my den, chest heaving and breath forming ghostly plumes in the cold air.

My heart pounded as I burst through the entrance of the den. The calm familiarity of my surroundings failed to ease my troubled state. The reluctance to share my secrets had always been my armor, and now it was as if I had willingly exposed my weakest point to her—Aria, the alpha’s daughter, whose intentions were as enigmatic as the shifting shadows I commanded.

Joren stared at me, his presence a steady, unwavering flame. Without question, he held out a drink, the amber liquid catching the faint light from the lanterns dotting the walls of the communal space.

“You look like you’re about to tear down the place with your bare hands,” he said. “You need to calm yourself.”

Hale stood behind him, quiet understanding on his face. They knew me—the real me—and yet, here I was, questioning whether I had just put them all in jeopardy with a single act of misplaced trust.

Silently, I took the glass and drained it. The liquid burned a trail down my throat, stoking the internal fire rather than quenching it. But I allowed the warmth to spread, letting it dull the sharp edges of my anxiety. With a nod to my brothers-in-arms and without any explanation, I retreated to my personal quarters.

The tattoos across my body pulsed with the memory of each moment they represented—a wolf, mid-howl; a chain fractured by strength and will; a forest silhouette shrouded in mystery. All interconnected, they told tales of pain and freedom, of a life lived on the fringes where trust was a currency I could scarcely afford.

I lay down on the bed, the sheets cool against my heated skin. Sleep beckoned, its gentle whispers promising refuge from the labyrinth of my own creation. Yet, when I closed my eyes, Aria’s image played through my mind.

The darkness in my den cocooned me as I drifted into the realm of dreams. A soft rustle of leaves whispered through the subconscious haze, beckoning me to a time when trust was not a luxury but a given. A lifetime before the jagged edges of betrayal had sculpted me.

---