MasukSophia
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 way I have felt drawn to Lucas all this time runs through my mind like a quiet rewind. Not physical, not the easy kind anyone can explain with a look or a touch. It is something deeper, something that has been working in the background of every moment we have shared. I think about the way my chest loosens when he enters a room. The way the tension leaves my shoulders without me even noticing. The way my mind goes strangely quiet around him, like all the constant noise of my thoughts steps back for a second to make room just for him. Trust has always come easier with him, too. Too easy. Like my heart recognized his before my brain ever caught on.Now it makes a strange, perfect sense.Was all of that because I am his mate?Is this the reason why he is with me? Not because he chose me freely, but because something unseen tied us together long before I had a choice in it, long before he probably did either?“You already knew it, didn’t you?” I ask, my eyes locked onto his face
Aurora“Dad, I never knew mom was British.”The words come out of my mouth in an almost curious tone, like I am pointing out a fun fact I just learned, but my forehead wrinkles right after. That is not even what I had ever truly thought. I never thought of her as British or American or anything. I never thought of her much at all because I never had the chance to. She has always been a blur, an idea, a soft outline that never quite fills in.“What?” Dad looks at me, eyebrows lifting as amusement curls at the corners of his mouth. “She wasn’t British.”The way he says it is light, like it is obvious. Like I should have known.“But you said you were her mate,” I reply. The word feels small and simple to me, something that belongs in the same category as friend, partner, best person. “It means you guys were friends.” I can’t help the smile that forms. There is something oddly sweet in thinking about the way he still talks about her. He still calls her his friend. It makes me feel like I
AuroraI move from one picture frame to the next, my fingers almost trembling as they hover near the glass. Every frame holds a different version of me, but all of them are unmistakably mine. Younger. Softer. Smiling. Serious. Lost in thought. Even the face I see in the mirror every day stares back at me from one of the photos.My heart begins to race as my eyes move from picture to picture. Each one feels like a small punch to my memory.There I am on my seventh birthday, cheeks round, frosting on the corner of my mouth. I remember that cake. Chocolate with too much cream. Another frame shows me standing in front of my school gates on my first day, backpack too big for my small shoulders. I remember how nervous I was... I remember twisting the ends of my hair around my finger while I watched other parents crouch to hug their kids goodbye.Another frame. I am older. A little taller. My smile is more confident, but it is still careful, like I do not fully trust the happiness on my face
AuroraA shock runs through me, sharp and fast, but my face barely shifts. I have trained myself for this. Years of smoothing over the wild parts of me with a calm expression, a neutral mask, a version of myself that people can look at without flinching. But this time, the control is not just mine. It has everything to do with Lucas standing behind me. I can feel his presence the way you feel heat from the sun through a window, even without turning around.“What do you mean?” I ask, and I am impressed by how normal my voice sounds. Barely a ripple. If someone was listening from another table, they would think we are talking about the weather. Or the menu.James does not answer right away. His eyes slide around the restaurant, quick and careful, taking in faces, exits, the spaces between tables. He looks like he is memorizing everything, like he always does. Finally, his gaze returns to me.“I have come here because you called me,” he says. His voice is low, but not tense. More like he
AuroraLucas is sitting behind the wheel with his eyes fixed straight ahead as we drive to meet James. The road passes in blurred streaks, trees and signs smearing together like my thoughts. There is too much happening in my head for me to settle on one thing. Memories bump into questions. Fear presses up against hope. It all feels like a tangled knot that I cannot separate, only hold.I keep glancing at his profile, the way his jaw tightens and relaxes, the tiny muscle in his cheek that flickers every time he blinks. He looks calm, but I know him well enough to see what hides underneath. His hands grip the wheel, not hard, just enough to show he is holding onto something. Maybe that something is me.I stare out the window again. I know whatever I find out today will change everything. I can feel it in my chest, in the slow pull of each breath. My entire life feels like it is standing on a thin line, waiting for the next step. I do not know if I am ready to hear the truth, or if I wil
AuroraI sit on the edge of the bed, knees pressed together, staring at the same knot in the wooden floorboard I have been staring at for hours. Its grain twists like it’s mocking me, like it knows something I do not. My fingers curl around the blanket, twisting it in little loops, tugging it just enough to hear the faint rip of fibers but never hard enough to break them. The blanket smells faintly of detergent and Lucas.It is something for my hands to do while the rest of me sits here, trying to understand myself.I do not know how to feel. I do not know how to react. My own emotions feel like strangers sitting in my chest. Half of them do not even feel like mine anymore. It is like someone else is tugging at invisible strings attached to me. Someone else is pressing feelings into me that do not belong to me.I never used to doubt myself like this. But now every thought I have is followed by a question mark. Did I feel this, or did someone make me feel it? Am I scared or did someone







