Page 65 of Moonlit Fate

“Tell me.” Atticus’s hand was warm on mine. “What do you remember from the fight?”

I turned to him, my muscles straining as I moved, a grimace distorting my expression. “It’s all a blur,” I said. “We were holding our own until...” The memory seared through me, raw and vivid. “Until I saw him. Larkin. He was advancing on Eldan, and his eyes...” I shuddered. “There was a savage glee in them.”

“Go on,” Atticus said softly.

“Something wasn’t right about him. He moved with a cruel intent that wasn’t just about the land.” I had to fight to stay calm as I recalled my terror. “I jumped in and took the brunt of his attack. His claws... they were different, like they tore more than flesh.” A shudder ran through me, and I could scarcely draw breath. The pain had been unreal.

“His claws?” Atticus probed gently.

“Poisoned, maybe. Or cursed.” I frowned, struggling to make sense of it all. “I’ve never felt anything like it. It was as if evil itself was tearing into me.”

Atticus’s face hardened, a protective fury simmering. “You’re safe now. I won’t leave you.” His touch was tender yet firm, full of promise.

I leaned into him, allowing myself a second of fragility. There was comfort in his arms, a ferocity that spurred hope. We would face whatever darkness awaited us.

After a few moments, I decided to try moving. The world seemed to sway as I attempted to rise, the pain flaring anew in my leg, sending me back into the furs with a stifled groan. Atticus’s hand was on me in an instant, his touch calming.

“Easy,” he said. “You’re badly hurt. You’ve lost a lot of blood, and the wound is like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

“I need to see my pack,” I said. “They could be hurt. Or dead.”

Atticus shook his head. “I won’t fight you on this, but you need to rest first. Eldan said he’d relay any important information.”

“You don’t understand,” I snapped. “You don’t have a pack. You’re not the future alpha of one.”

Something shifted in Atticus’s expression, the hurt plain across his face.

I wanted to take back the words, wanted to swallow them down so they’d burn inside me instead of wounding him. But the deed was done, and I could see the walls rising in his eyes.

“Maybe I don’t have a pack,” Atticus finally said. “But I have you. And I’ll stand by you, even when your own blood doesn’t. That’s my choice. My decision as someone who—” He cut himself off, clenching his fists.

The ache in my body was a dull roar, but the pain from the words I’d hurled at Atticus throbbed with a sharper sting.

“Fine,” he said. “But I’m coming with you. You’re not facing this alone.” There was a command in his tone. One that didn’t ask for my agreement, yet sought it all the same.

My throat tightened, gratitude and remorse tangling. “Thank you.” I took his hand. “I’m sorry for what I said. It was out of line, and I didn’t mean it. Not really.”

He nodded curtly, but beneath the hard lines of his face, I caught the softening, the forgiveness he offered without hesitation.

Mia’s arrival interrupted the moment. She moved to my side, and with her healer’s touch, gentle and firm, she unwrapped the bandage around my leg, inspecting the wound with a critical eye.

“Still bleeding.” She frowned deeply. “This isn’t right.”

“What’s wrong?” Atticus asked. He had picked up on the subtle shift in Mia’s demeanor before I did.

Mia hesitated, her fingers hovering over the wound with a kind of hesitant reverence. “I don’t want to cause undue alarm, but... it’s almost as if the weapon that did this was poisoned or cursed.”

“I thought the same,” I murmured. “How would the Crimson Fang even get their hands on something like that?”

“I wish I knew,” Mia said as she sat back and stared at my injury.

We were venturing into unknown territory, our reality skewing toward the dark tales that were only whispered around campfires. But whatever fears threatened to claw their way into me, I couldn’t afford to succumb to them, not when my pack needed me.

“Thank you,” I said to Mia. “For everything.”

She gave me a tight-lipped smile, the kind that said she wished she could do more.

Atticus gripped my hand. “Larkin was acting strangely when he spoke about your injury. He said something that didn’t sit right with me.”

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