Page 66 of Moonlit Fate

I frowned, my skin prickling at the mention of the man who’d done this. “What did he say?”

Atticus’s tattoos seemed to ripple as his muscles tensed. “‘She can’t die yet, not until she’s mine.’ As if your fate hinged on his claim over you.” His warm, calloused hand enveloped mine.

I swallowed hard.

“Rest is what you need now,” Mia said softly. “Your body must recover, and this tincture I’ve applied should help your blood to clot.”

“Is there anything else we can do?” Atticus asked.

“Hopefully, the wound will begin to heal on its own soon,” Mia said as she secured the bandage around my leg. “The tincture is potent. It supports the body’s natural healing process.”

We were wading through uncharted waters, the threat of curses and poisoned claws lurking beneath the surface. Rest was a luxury, one that felt more like surrender, but my body was a traitor, succumbing to its weakness despite my protests.

Exhaustion bore down on me. I looked to Atticus, the pain reflected in his eyes mirroring my own.

“Get some rest,” he said. “I’ll be here, watching over you.”

Pain flared, but it couldn’t quell the need to see my people. I pushed against the furs beneath me, sitting up with gritted teeth.

“I need to check on my pack,” I said urgently.

“Easy.” Mia’s hands were firm as she wrapped my leg in layers of bandages. “This wound is not like any other. Shifting might just tear you apart from the inside out. It’s impossible to predict how a cursed injury will react.”

“I can’t just lie here while my people might be hurt,” I pushed.

“Trust me, I understand more than you know,” Mia said. “But you’d be no use to your pack if you’re broken, or worse.”

Before I could protest further, the den door creaked open, and Hale strode in, his expression grim as stone. Lyza and Joren followed behind him.

“Silver Claw has lost territory,” Hale said. “The Crimson Fang is spreading like a plague across our borders.”

The news hit like a physical blow, snuffing the air out of the room. My heart clenched, picturing the territory that had been under our guardianship for generations now tainted by enemy claws.

“Then I must go to them,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Even if it costs you your life?” Mia pressed.

“Even then.” The revelation of my pack’s loss was a thorn in my side, festering with each passing second. Guilt ate at me, a viper whispering accusations of negligence. I had been nestled here among the rogues while my family, my future subjects, fought tooth and nail against the Crimson Fang.

“Atticus,” I said. I needed to be with my pack, to lead them, but the walls of his den seemed to hold me back with invisible chains of convalescence and caution.

He was beside me in an instant, searching my face, seeking the source of my turmoil. “Your pack needs you,” he said. “But so does your body. It needs time.”

I looked up at him, really looked, taking in the worry lines on his brow, his jaw clenched in silent support. My father’s stern face flashed in my mind, his judgment a cold, unyielding wall. He would never understand the bond that had formed between Atticus and me, one not of convenience or politics but of genuine care and shared ideals.

“Atticus, you...” I faltered, struggling to articulate the swell of emotions. “You’re good, truly good. And my father is drowningin his stubborn pride and can’t see the treasure in people like you.”

His grip tightened around my hand, and something shifted behind his eyes, a flash of pain quickly masked by tenacity. “I don’t need your father to see my worth. I just need... I just need you to know that I’m here for you. Always.”

In another life, could we have met without duty and bloodlines hanging over us? Atticus deserved the world, deserved recognition for his strength and kindness. Not the scorn of those too blinded by prejudice to recognize it.

“Thank you.” I squeezed his hand as I fought back the sting of tears. “For saving me, for caring. You’ve shown me what it means to be truly cared for, without conditions or expectations.”

The scent of Atticus’s home lingered in my nostrils as I forced myself to stand, wincing as my leg screamed in protest. Mia’s worried gaze followed my every movement, her fingers hovering near the bandage.

“There are healers in my pack,” I said. “I’ll be fine once I get there.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, her hands lifted in hesitation.

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