Freja’s POV
I sat on the cold leather chair inside James’ office. My fingers fidgeted over the hem of my sleeve while my heart pulsed hard against my ribs. It was like a never-ceasing rhythm reflecting the chaos running inside my brain. I barely slept last night, as thoughts of those haunting words of the priestess still lingered.
**One of us will die alone, and the other will live without one.**
The prophecy echoed in my head, my chest tight enough to burst. I knew better than to believe in fate, and yet… the priestess had never been wrong before.
I bit my lip, my throat dry, and tried to steady myself. The air in the room shifted the moment James stepped into it, filling it with the usual controlled, almost indifference that characterized him. His sharp gaze met mine; there was a slight furrowing of his dark brows, as if he sensed my tension.
He slowly crossed the room towards his desk but never once took those piercing eyes from my face. “What’s up with you?” His voice was even and smooth. “What did you need to say that couldn’t wait until I finished work?
I opened my mouth, but my words choked in my throat. Where would I have even begun explaining the weight of what I’d heard?
“I… I….” I held a shaking voice.
James’s eyes clouded with something unreadable, and he leaned forward, resting his hands against his desk. “What’s wrong, Freja?”
I let out a shaky breath, and my fingers curled into fists in my lap. “The priestess of my pack,” I managed to get out in a voice barely above a whisper. “She said something strange. Something that I cannot stop thinking about.” I swallowed as my throat tightened. “She said one of us-my sister or me-is going to die.
James did not utter a word. On his face, nothing was readable. Then with an almost exasperated sigh, he leaned way back in his chair, his arms crossing over his broad chest. “She foresaw either you or your sister die?”
I nodded, my stomach twisting.
“And you believed that?” His voice was smooth, yet there was an edge beneath, like he was suppressing an opinion he thought I wouldn’t want to hear.
I exhaled very slowly. “I’m trying not to, James. Still-she’s the priestess of the Moon Goddess. Her words… they carry weight.” My voice cracked slightly. “She has never spoken a false prophecy before.”
James sneered, his head shaking. “I don’t care who she is, Freja. I don’t believe in visions or predictions, and neither should you.” His voice did not waver. “You control your own destiny-no one else. No priestess, no prophecy, no Moon Goddess gets to decide how your life will turn out.
I looked down, my fingers grasping at the material of my dress. “I know,” I said, my voice small. “And you’re right. But.” I took a shaky breath in. “I’m still scared, James. I don’t want to lose my sister. I don’t want to die either.”
James watched me closely, his face unreadable. “You’re afraid of dying?”
A harsh laugh escaped my lips. “Everyone’s afraid of dying, James.
He cocked his head to one side, his face almost amused. “I’m not.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, my eyebrows knitting together. “You expect me to believe that?”
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “I don’t fear death. I don’t fear anything.”
I searched his face for a crack in his mask of certainty. “Everybody is scared of something, James,” I whispered. “Not necessarily death, but there is something out there that makes one weak. Something that will keep one awake all night.
His smirk didn’t waver. “Well, I’m not everyone.
I stared at him for a moment, then slowly took a deep breath and did a small step forward. The pounding of my heart grew more rapid, but I wouldn’t let fear make me back away.
“If you truly fear nothing,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, “then why haven’t you acknowledged this between us?”
James’s smirk went the way of his smile on that one-the man’s eyes lost all jest instantly. Everything about him had tightened, with hands pressed down upon the desktop, as though readying his body for something coming. “What feeling?” The voice in response was quiet and guarded, now.
I took one more step towards him, refused to back away. “This pull between us,” I quietly told him, “this connect-.
“You can’t deny it, James,” I said, words tumbling forth. “I feel it each time we’re together, and I know you feel it, too.” With every word my voice grew a little more intense, definite on every syllable. “Each time I am near you, my wolf stirs. She longs to be near your presence-to feel your touch. And I know your wolf reacts the same.
“That’s why you’ve never mentioned it, isn’t it?” I pressed. “Because you’re afraid of love.”
“Freja…” His voice was tight, strained in a way that said he was fighting for control.
“Don’t deny it, James,” I whispered. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you feel nothing for me.”
He clenched his jaw, his body going rigid with tension.
Look me in the eyes, James,” I said, my voice breaking with emotion.
His keen eyes finally met mine, and for an instant, the mask he always wore cracked enough to let the truth shine through. And then…
“I feel the same!” he suddenly exclaimed.
I felt a shiver run down my spine at the rawness of the emotion in his tone.
“See?” I whispered, my lips parting slightly. ”
His breathing was labored, his fists clenching at his sides. “But this…,” he muttered, hoarse of voice. “This wasn’t supposed to happen, Freja. You and I… we can never be.”
Pain bloomed in my chest. “And why is that?
Because you don’t know who I really am.” His voice was tinged with something dark, something cautioning me to turn away. “I’m dangerous, Freja.
I refused to back down and lifted my chin. “I know your name is James, I know you have a very tricky relationship with your sister, and now I know that your heart, no matter how guarded, beats for me.” I reached out and brushed my fingers against his. “Bit by bit, I’m getting to know you, and we don’t have to hurry for anything.
He exhaled harshly, and his whole body was taut. “I have a mission tonight.”
“The Hunt?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yes. But when it’s over-when I’ve caught my prey-I will come to you. And then, I will tell you everything.”
A small smile touched my lips. “Now I can’t wait for tomorrow.”
James exhaled and stepped back, his eyes holding mine a fraction of a second too long. “Until tomorrow, then.”
I turned and walked away with one last glance over my shoulder, my pulse racing, my emotions tangled in a mess.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, everything will change.
******
Ashley’s POV
I tightened my grip on the wooden stick as it rolled within my fingers while I shifted weight from one leg to the other, feeling my muscles ache due to hours of practice. Though sweat clung to my skin, the evening breeze brushed across me, its coolness offering a little respite from the heat produced by training. I twirled the stick once more, much more confident now, and a little smirk danced on my lips. “I think I’m finally getting the hang of this,” I said, the slight, satisfied tinge in my voice evident as I spun the stick once again to test its balance.
Steven sat on a hard log opposite me, his back straight, and attentive to run the edge of a wooden staff along a sharp stone with gentle preciseness. The rhythmic sound of sharpening filled the stillness of air between us and joined with those far-off mournful wolf howls over the woods out there.
“Quite right,” he muttered absent-mindedly, his tone distracted, as if his mind was elsewhere.
I exhaled, tapping the stick against my palm as a thought crossed my mind. “But if I ever have to face a real enemy-someone fast, someone ruthless-I don’t think my little stick skills will do much good,” I admitted, tilting my head as I watched him work. “Honestly, I’m pretty sure this thing will be useless, especially if I ever find myself up against the Demon Wolf.”
For a moment, Steven’s hands hesitated, his shoulders stiffening minutely before he started whetting the staff again. When Steven finally spoke, his tone was set, weighted in such a way that my chest constricted.
“You will never fight the Demon Wolf, Luna,” he said, the words slow and deliberate, heavy with an authority that brooked no argument. “I would never let that happen.”
Something in the way he said it sent a shiver down my spine, but not out of fear-something altogether different. There was a protectiveness in his tone, one that made my stomach flutter in a way I wasn’t ready for. A small smile crept onto my lips as I tilted my head, watching him closely.
“You seem to really care about me now,” I teased, trying to raise some kind of reaction out of him, but he said nothing. His face unreadable, he slightly tightened his grip on the staff, not looking up.
I took a slow step closer, refusing to let the silence win. “You care about me, right?” I asked again, softer, more insistent this time.
A tiny, exasperated huff escaped Steven; his jaws were working as if framing his words. “What am I supposed to tell you?” His voice came slightly hoarse with the weariness in him.
I shrugged, even though my heart was beating harder than I really liked to acknowledge. “I need to hear from you,” I said, taking in all the last bits of details this man showed. “You care about me?
For a long moment, he didn’t answer. He just sat there, staring down at the wooden staff in his hands, his fingers pressing against it like grounding himself. And then he finally spoke, his voice lower, quieter-like he was admitting something he wasn’t ready to say out loud.
“I’ve always cared about you,” he said, softer now, more controlled. “Since we were kids.”
At his words, my chest felt warm; the corners of my lips tugged upwards before I could stop myself. There was just something about hearing it from him, something about the way he said it, that made my heart lighter, like a part of me had been waiting for this confirmation all along.
Before I could get anything out, he leaned forward, pressing the staff he’d just finished sharpening into my hands. “Here,” he said, his voice once more firm. “If anything happens tonight and I’m not by your side, use this to defend yourself.”
I grasped the staff, feeling the heaviness of it in my hands, but a frown tugged at my lips as I looked at it skeptically. “Just a log of wood?” I asked, raising a brow. “Why don’t I get a sword? Or at least a bow and arrow?”
Steven let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Because I don’t want to have to come pick up your dead body after you accidentally stab yourself with the sword or shoot yourself with an arrow while trying to use it,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “This log of wood is safer for you.”
I scoffed, crossing my arms. “You’re still mean, you know that?”
His smirk only slightly extended, and he said nothing to deny it. He looked upwards, to the sky, keen eyes scanning across the horizon where the last remnants of sunlight were slipping away, leaving behind the soft, gentle glow of twilight. Night was fast approaching, and with it, the Hunt.
“It’s getting dark,” he said, the playfulness falling away from his voice once more. “And it’s nearly time for The Hunt.” He stood, dusting his hands off as he turned back towards the Mansion. “Let’s get back inside.
I hesitated a moment, following him in his long strides with a sudden thought that made me actually grin. “What about a gun, then?” I called after him, catching up to his long strides.
He didn’t miss a beat but replied over his shoulder, “A mere gun cannot kill a werewolf.”
I rolled my eyes. “But a mere stick can?”
Steven stopped mid-step, turning to face me with an amused look. His piercing gaze met mine, and for a second, I thought I saw a flicker of playfulness beneath his usually stoic expression.
“If used well, yes, it can,” he said, his voice carrying that same infuriating confidence that made it sound like an indisputable fact.
I grinned mischievously, my head tilting as I perfectly mimicked his tone. “‘If used well, yes, it can.'”
His brows lifted a little, and his smirk deepened. “Did you just mimic my words?”
I straightened up, feigning seriousness. “Uhhh…” My eyes darted everywhere, searching for an escape. “It’s almost time for The Hunt! We should, uh-get back to the Mansion!”
And before he could respond to that, I pivoted on my heel and took off in a sprint toward the entrance, giggling under my breath.
Behind me, I heard him laugh-a rare sound, deep and unguarded, something that made my heartbeat stumble.
For some reason, that laugh alone managed to make this whole night seem a little less terrifying.
******
Steven’s POV
I stood before the full-length mirror, readjusting the cloth of the black trousers on my waist so they sat right. The vest on me underneath was white, hugging all the muscles a lifetime of intensive training had grown upon my frame. The eyes staring back into mine were vaguely familiar, alien in their normality-an Alpha, a fighter, a male that had dealt with too much blood and shared the weight of too many on his shoulders.
It was a night like no other, the air alive with tension, thick with the scent of anticipation. The Hunt was upon us, and every ounce of instinct screamed within me to be ready for what was to come.
I ran my hands along my vest as a presence came to stand behind me long before I heard her voice.
“What’s that mark on your shoulder?” Luna asked, her tone dripping with curiosity as she leaned in, her eyes glued to my skin now exposed.
I half-turned, revealing to her the inky crescent moon etched on my shoulder-the dark reminder that had always been there, a constant of who I was and where I belonged.
“The Crescent Moon mark,” I said, my tone even, clear, and firm. “Every wolf born into the Crescent Moon Pack has one, and for those we turn, we brand it into their skin to make them one of us. It is more than a mark; it bonds and connects us together as a pack.
She did not flinch, taking another step closer to me, her fragile fingers extended tentatively. The instant her fingertips grazed the mark, a strange heat diffused over my body. Her touch was light, almost not there at all, yet it sent a shiver of something deep and unsaid through my veins.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, tracing the outline of the crescent with the tip of her finger.
The moment felt weirdly intimate, like she was touching way more than my skin-like she reached into part of me that I’d long kept guarded. My breath hitched a millimeter before I caught her wrist in a firm yet soft grip.
“Don’t do that,” I said, my voice lower than I’d meant it to be.
She looked up at me, her face etched with confusion. “Do what? Does it hurt when I touch it?”
I let my breath out slow, my head shaking. “No-that’s not what I meant. It’s just that. if you touch me right now, my focus will slip. And I can’t afford to be distracted, not tonight.”
Her eyes filled with even more concern, and she yanked her hand back, dropping it to her side.
“I shouldn’t touch you then,” she said softer now, as if trying to give respect to this invisible boundary I had just drawn. “You must be clear-headed tonight. If the Demon Wolf really shows up, you have to be fully on guard if you want to survive.”
She was right, of course. I knew that better than anyone. And yet, something in the way she said it, her voice shaking ever so slightly, made me feel like she was more worried about me than about herself.
I watched her for a moment, paying attention to all the details-how her lips tightened in determination, how her fingers curled slightly at the tips, as if refusing to reach for me again; how her eyes searched mine for reassurance.
And in an instant, I moved.
I reached for her, pulling her into my arms, feeling her warmth press against me. She gasped, startled by the sudden embrace, but she didn’t pull away. She stilled against my chest instead, as if finding comfort in how our bodies fitted.
Her hands found their way to my back, fingers clenching on the fabric of my vest, as if she needed something to hold onto. The moment drew out between us, thick with unsaid words and silent promises.
“I am not dying tonight, Luna,” I whispered, settling my chin delicately on top of her head. “I promise. And you know I always keep those.”
She let out a shaky breath, and I felt her nod against my chest.
For a long moment, we stayed like that, wrapped in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. Outside, the world was bracing for war, for blood, for chaos. But in this moment, in the safety of our embrace, none of that existed.
She had been here. I was here. And there was nothing I was going to let take that away from us.
Now. Never.