LOGINSophia
The Full Moon Ball is only a day away, and the pressure is on. Each year different pack hosts Full Moon Ball and this is year it is Redwood Pack's turn to arrange this annual ball.
My father is leaving no stone upturn to make sure our pack's Full Moon Ball is one of the best balls that has been witnessed in the years.
Determined to get through my day without drawing any attention, I keep my head low and busy myself with the long chores that I have been assigned.
My stomach grumbles with hunger but ignoring the hunger pangs I continue sweeping the hallways floors until it is shiny enough for people to see their reflection.
Standing up with a sigh, I pick up the bucket of dirty water and carry it outside to throw the water in the bushes before resuming the cleaning of the guest house where all the Alphas and their families will be staying.
As I am polishing the silverware in the dining room, I overhear some of the higher-ranking wolves talking about the guests who will be arriving.
"Did you hear? The Blind Alpha is coming," One of them whispers.
"Really? I thought he never attended these kinds of events," another replies.
A expression of disgust passes over my face when I hear them addressing the Alpha as the Blind Alpha. No one has the right to judge someone and especially labeling them. From what I have heard he is blind, but this doesn't mean that he should be defined by his disability. I quickly shake off the thought and focus on my work, determined not to let their gossip distract me.
As the day progresses, the guest house starts to take shape. The decorators hang lavish drapes, arrange elegant centerpieces, and ensure everything is perfect for the high-ranking guests.
I take a moment to admire the beautiful decoration and feel myself smiling at the thought how beautiful everything will look once moonlight will light up the entire place.
"Sophia! Stop lazying around and get back to work!" Cynthia's sharp voice reaches my ears, her eyes cold and unforgiving.
"Yes, Luna." Nodding my head, I head back outside to tend the garden.
My hands turn raw and bleed by the time I finish clearing up the weeds and picking up the roses from the garden for the vases.
Sitting on the steps, I bend my head on my knees as I feel dizzy because of the lack of food. I haven't ate anything for the past few days, but unlike last time this time I am allowed to drink water. And that is something helping to me suppress my hunger.
Letting out another sigh, I recall the rest of the chores that I have to finish before the sunset. The rest of the day passes in a blur of chores and commands. By the time the sun sets, I'm exhausted. I return to my room, collapsing onto my bed.
As I lay there, my mind drifts to the Full Moon Ball. It's a time when many find their mates, the one person destined to be their perfect match. A small part of me clings to the hope that my mate will come and take me away from all this.
Wrapping my arms around my stomach, I curl up on my side as the pain becomes overbearing. I have a wolf, and the lack of her presence is due to the fact that my father has made her dormant by not allowing me to shift. I have only shifted into my wolf once, and now I feel even she has left me because it has been years since I have felt her presence inside me.
I let myself cry for a few minutes, the tears flowing freely because the realization hits me that I don't have anyone with me; I am all alone, not even my wolf.
"Please come and find me, you are my only hope. I need you." Closing my eyes, I whisper to my probably non-existent mate, hoping that maybe by some miracle my longing will reach out to him.
AuroraThe moment we cross the gate, something in my chest loosens. Not completely, but still not feeling being suppressed.Ryan flicks a glance at me. Quick. Observant. Like he is checking to see if I am still holding myself together. He does not say anything, though. He keeps his eyes on the road, one hand lightly tapping the wheel in a pattern I cannot place. Maybe a habit. Maybe nerves. Maybe nothing at all.Soon we are on the main road that curves toward town. I recognize the line of old brick buildings in the distance, the faint glow of streetlights that always turn on earlier than necessary, or sometimes I wonder if they even turn them off at all, because the sun is high in the sky and there is no need for it. I expect him to keep going straight.He doesn’t.Ryan takes a turn without announcing it, the car rolling into a quieter side road instead of following the path toward the shops and people and noise. Trees hang low over the edges, their leaves brushing my window as we pa
Aurora The next morning, when I open my door, Ryan is already there. He stands like he has been carved into that exact spot, but then something unexpected happens. He nods his head in greeting, and a small, polite smile lifts his mouth. It is quick, almost shy, but real enough to catch me off guard. People here do not smile. Especially the guards. They move like programmed bodies, trained to look through you rather than at you. They speak only if spoken to, and even then, their voices sound like someone erased emotion from their throats. But Ryan. He is different. So to test my theory, I smile back. I keep it soft so it does not look like I am challenging him, just acknowledging him as a person. "Good morning, Ryan." "Good morning, Miss Blake." His tone stays formal, yet there is a hint of genuine warmth in it. Let's see how long it takes for this warmth to vanish from his tone after he is working here. He positions himself half a step behind me as I walk toward the dining hall
AuroraI always find solutions to problems. It is one of those things people say about me whenever they want to sound impressed. Like it is stitched into my DNA, something I inherited along with my eye color or the shape of my cheekbones. But this time I look at my hands resting uselessly on my lap and I do not even know how or where to start.The problem is simple. That is what makes it worse. I am trapped in my own room. Not with chains. Not with bars. Just rules that feel heavier than any lock. I am allowed to leave only for meals, which is beginning to make the hallway feel like a reward instead of a place I grew up walking through barefoot, leaving tiny sock prints behind on the marble.I sit up on the mattress and stare at the door. It is closed in the most normal way possible. Pine wood with a soft shine. The knob holds a faint coldness in winter that used to shock me awake during school mornings.Nothing about it looks threatening. Yet right now it feels like a reminder like I
AuroraI pull my cardigan closer around my body, tucking the fabric in tight like I am trying to hold myself together from the outside in. The room feels colder than usual, even though the heater hums softly in the corner. Maybe it is the kind of cold that settles inside a person and then makes a home there.I stand by the window, the glass cool under my fingertips. The vines that used to creep along the frame and block half my view are gone. Cut clean. It almost looks like the way it was before, the way I used to like it. A strange reminder that even things that grow without permission can be erased if someone decides they should not be there.I press my forehead lightly against the glass. The chill seeps into my skin, and for a second it feels good, like it pushes back the warmth rising behind my eyes. My reflection stares back at me.I blink, and for a heartbeat I imagine him behind me, his reflection overlapping mine. Tall. Solid. Those quiet eyes that catch everything I try to hi
LucasThe main lounge is too quiet when I step back inside. It is the type of quiet that feels shaped by people trying too hard to act normal. A fake kind of calm that sits on top of something nervous. I can feel everyone watching me before I actually meet their eyes. Their gazes catch on me the way people stare at a glass they expect to slip out of someone’s hand.They think I might break. Fall apart. Lose control. Shatter like something fragile.It almost makes me laugh. After everything I have survived, if they still think I can fall so easily, they really do not know me.My attention drifts across the room until it lands on Anastasia. She sits like she always does, a posture so sure of itself that it could intimidate half the world. Her chin is lifted slightly, her shoulders relaxed, her gaze cool. She looks unbothered. Almost bored.She is pretending, of course. But right now, she is the only person who is not staring at me like I am a ticking bomb.I walk toward her. My feet mov
LucasI hate that I know this was necessary. That this is what keeping everyone safe looks like, watching her walk away while I stand still, pretending it doesn’t break something inside me. I hate that I’m the logical one. The rational one. The one who has to think about what happens if I tear through her father’s men, how their bodies would fall, how questions would rise, how their blood would lead straight to us. To my people. To my family.I hate that she had to say those words. Words she didn’t mean. Words that tasted like poison even as they left her lips.And I hate that I let her suffer. That I stood there, knowing exactly what it was costing her to say them. I let her carry that weight because it was the only way to keep her safe, to keep everyone safe. But knowing that doesn’t make it hurt any less.When she looked at me for the last time, her face was a blank canvas, but I could feel everything she didn’t say. The tiny twitch in the corner of her mouth, the way her throat mo







