Page 57 of Moonlit Fate

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Lyza turned her attention back to me, her tone less guarded than before. “To just be.”

Meeting her gaze, I nodded. Her face held stories of its own. “It does,” I said, a genuine smile tugging at my lips. For once, I wasn’t the alpha’s daughter.

I was just Aria.

Lyza leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees as she studied me with newfound curiosity. “So, what’s it actually like? Being the alpha’s daughter?”

The question elicited a dry chuckle out of me, the kind that carried years of expectations on its back. “Complicated.” I took a sip of my tea. “I love my pack, and I’d do anything for my father, but...” I trailed off as I searched for the words that might explain the oppression of a crown never chosen.

“But?” Lyza leaned in closer.

“Sometimes it’s like living under a mountain, if the mountain were made of judgment,” I said. “Every step is measured, every decision scrutinized. It’s a lot of pressure. One false move could send an avalanche crashing down.”

“Ugh, sounds suffocating,” Lyza said in empathy… or was it recognition? She knew what I meant and understood constraints all too well, just of a different kind.

“Sometimes it is,” I said, surprised by my own candor. In the open-air sanctuary of Atticus’s den, vulnerability seemed less a weakness and more a bridge connecting our disparate lives.

“Yet, here you are,” Lyza said with a hint of respect. “Breathing the fresh air with the rest of us rogues.”

I chuckled, the sound lighter than before. “Yeah, here I am.”

I carried my empty cup to the sink and leaned against the worn wooden table in the kitchen, watching Lyza pace after me with an easy grace that spoke of untethered freedom. Her laughter had a wild ring to it.

“Freedom’s got its perks.” She tossed her dark hair over her shoulder. “I go where I want, do what I please. But it’s not without its downsides.” She paused. “There’s no pack to call your own, no shared strength in numbers. Loneliness can be an unyielding hunter, even for the wildest of us.”

“Yet, you’ve got this.” I gestured around, encompassing the den and its inhabitants. “Your chosen family.”

“Damn right,” she said with pride. “We’re tighter than any pack I’ve ever known. Trust is our bond, not blood.”

“Speaking of family.” Mia emerged from the other room with another steaming teapot. “You’ll always have a place here with us. You’re part of us now.”

“Thank you,” I said. To be accepted so openly, so freely, was a strange yet welcome sensation.

“Ah, Mia.” Joren chuckled as he entered the room and wrapped an arm around Mia’s shoulders. “Our resident mother hen, always gathering chicks under her wings.”

“Someone’s got to look after you lot,” Mia said, but the softness around her eyes betrayed her love for this ragtag assembly of souls.

“Speaking of taking care of ourselves, when was the last time we ventured out of the den for a run?” Joren asked.

“The weather has been so stormy lately that going outside has been out of the question,” Lyza said.

“Well, in that case,” Joren replied, “I have good news. The sun is out! We should make the most of it before the next storm rolls in. I can’t wait to feel the wind blowing through my fur. It’s the perfect opportunity to shake off the cobwebs and blow off some steam.”

As I watched their easy camaraderie, I realized how much I had enjoyed talking with them, relaxing around them. A surprising surge of jealousy bubbled up inside me, making it hard to hide my reluctance to see them go. I retreated to Atticus’s bedroom, where the unmistakable sound of the bath running reached me from the bathing area. I had to bite my lip not to laugh when I heard his off-key singing echo throughout the room. In the corner, the book I’d taken and the stack of items he had removed from the shack caught my attention, their silent invitation impossible to ignore.

I settled on the worn rug in front of the fire in the empty common area. Books and scrolls lay scattered, relics from the shack that now seemed like some kind of fever dream. The peace of the morning had faded away, and the tension returned to my muscles as I was reminded of the approaching deadline. I picked up the old book, its leather cover crackled with age, and flipped it open, losing myself in its worn pages, determined to uncover answers to the seer’s mysterious riddles. We’d gotten so far last night, but there was so much riding on this being right.

“Find anything useful?” Atticus asked as he peered over my shoulder. I tilted my head to look up at him. He had a towel slung over his shoulder, and his hair was still damp from the bath.

“I was distracted by the cat that was yowling in your room,” I said, tongue firmly in my cheek.

He looked perplexed for a moment, then an adorable shade of pink crept into his cheeks. “Heard that, did you?”

“Heard it? I think everyone in a mile radius thought there was a poor, injured animal nearby.” My straight face gave way, and uncontrollable laughter bubbled out of me. He joined in, his mirth lighting his eyes.

Our amusement subsided, and he glanced back at the books laid out in front of me. “Were you successful in finding anything else?”

“Bits and pieces.” I scanned the lines of curling script. “It’s like trying to piece together a puzzle without knowing what the picture is supposed to be.”

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