Chapter 13 - Author's Note

📣 Author's Note – RUN & SHOUTOUT CHALLENGE! 🐺✨

Hey Moonborn Pack!

We've just hit 1,000 readers, and I honestly can't thank you all enough. Whether you've been here from Chapter 1 or you're just joining Rory's journey, you're the reason this story keeps growing. 💛

To celebrate this milestone, I'm launching a RUN & SHOUTOUT CHALLENGE! 🎉

Here's the deal:

👉 The first 5 commenters this week will get a character named after them in an upcoming chapter!

It could be a mysterious ally, a rival, a rebel wolf, or maybe even someone from the Academy 👀

So if you're reading and enjoying the story, now's the perfect time to leave a comment—even a small one helps this book rise, grow, and howl louder in the rankings. 🐾

Tell me what you think of Rory's powers, the Moonborn reveal, or who you trust (or don't!). Let's talk. Let's build this story together.

— With all my moonlight,

Your author 🖤

Sandra_Otuah_Bosu

***

Rory

It wasn't her.

The woman who said she was my mother. The one with the gentle voice and careful eyes, the one who brushed my hair behind my ear like she'd done it a thousand times before—that wasn't my mom.

I hadn't said anything. Not out loud. Not to Aerie. Not to Luna or River or Dad.

But I knew.

I don't even know how. Just—something in me cracked open when I looked in her eyes. Too steady. Too perfect. Too wrong.

And now I couldn't un-know it. Couldn't un-feel it.

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the duffel bag like it was a bomb. I hadn't touched it yet.

Aerie was quiet in my mind, almost too quiet. Which wasn't like him. Usually, he made sarcastic comments or pushed me to move. But now? Nothing. Just the low, pulsing presence of him sitting with me in the silence.

Maybe even he didn't know what to say.

I blinked hard and looked around the room. My room. My stupid posters, my half-burnt candle, the socks I never put away.

I thought I'd be happy to leave. I thought once I knew I was a werewolf—some chosen whatever—I'd be ready to get the hell out of here.

But now?

Now I just wanted to pause everything. Go back. Ask the question I hadn't dared to ask out loud: Where's my real mother?

I didn't realize I was crying until I tasted salt.

The packing happened in slow motion. Hoodie. Toothbrush. Socks. My sketchbook went in last. The edges were frayed. I'd drawn her face once. The fake mom. Before I knew she was fake.

I shoved the book down deep.

A quiet knock came at my door.

Luna peeked in, her braids messy from sleep. "You want help?"

I shook my head. "No. I'm okay."

She stepped in anyway, barefoot and cautious. "You've barely come out of your room since yesterday."

"I know."

"I'm not judging," she said softly, perching on the edge of my desk. "I just thought… maybe you needed someone."

I glanced at her. "I'm fine."

"You're lying."

I let out a short breath. "Yeah."

She smiled a little, sad and knowing. "River made you a playlist. It's mostly angry girl music."

"Sounds about right."

"She's pretending she doesn't care. But she's mad you didn't tell her what's going on."

I swallowed. "I didn't even know what was going on."

"Still," Luna said. "You're leaving, Rory."

"I know."

She looked around the room like it was hers too. "Do you think you'll come back?"

"I don't know."

"Can I hug you now, or would that make you cry?"

I gave a broken laugh. "It's already too late for that."

Her arms wrapped around me. Warm. Familiar. I clung tighter than I meant to.

Downstairs, the house felt like it was holding its breath.

Dad was at the counter, sipping coffee like it could save him. River sat on the armrest of the couch, flipping through a magazine she didn't care about.

Mom—not my real mom, but the only one I'd ever known—stood by the sink. Her face looked calm. But her hands… her hands trembled.

I walked in with the bag slung over my shoulder like it didn't weigh a hundred pounds.

Nobody said anything.

Then Mom—fake-mom-but-maybe-still-mom—turned and whispered, "You packed snacks, right?"

I nodded.

And that was it. That was all she could say without breaking.

Dad walked over and gripped my shoulder. "You know how to find your way back if you need to."

"I think so."

"Good." His voice cracked just once.

River didn't move, but said without looking up, "This better not turn you into a tragic antihero."

"No promises."

Luna followed me out the door. Pressed something folded into my palm.

"What is it?" I whispered.

"Open it when you're alone."

I nodded.

The car waiting at the curb wasn't one I recognized. No one stepped out. Just the engine running. Just the signal that it was time.

Time for what, I still didn't know.

I turned back to my family—my weird, broken, fake-but-real family—and swallowed everything I wanted to scream.

Then I opened the car door and stepped inside.

And didn't look back.