Morning arrives like a slap wrapped in a warm hug.
Crescent Moon Pack stirs with groggy grumbles, the scent of ginger tea, peppermint oil, and...somehow...burnt cinnamon socks wafting through the halls. The rescue mission was a success, Abby and John are safe, but no one seems to have told the hormones that.
Cassandra sits hunched at the kitchen table, wrapped in Darius's hoodie, sipping a steaming mug of chamomile, moonroot, and sheer desperation. The twins are throwing a rave in her womb, her feet are swollen, and her back aches in ways not even witches can explain.
Across from her, Lexie is dramatically sniffing a jar of pickles like it holds ancient secrets.
"I had a dream," Lexie says, squinting into the middle distance, "where Michael ate my pudding. So I threw a spoon at him. I woke up mid-swing."
"Did you hit him?" Cassandra asks, fighting a grin.
"Oh yeah," Lexie says proudly. "Left a dent in the headboard."
Michael appears in the doorway, holding an ice pack to his temple. "I feel like I've been drafted into a war I didn't enlist in."
"You married into this," Lexie calls sweetly.
"Technically, we're not married," Michael mutters.
Lexie narrows her eyes. "Wanna...test that theory, Alpha Beta?"
Michael shuts up.
Sasha limps in next, one slipper on, one slipper missing, clutching a small plate of oddly coloured jelly cubes. "I cried this morning because the sun was 'too orange.' Then I tried to fight the toaster."
Aidan follows, looking like he barely survived the night. "I woke up tangled in socks. Again."
"I told you the nursery should've been a snack fortress," Sasha mutters. "We need more breadsticks and fewer tiny socks."
"I want a refund on fatherhood," Aidan says flatly. "My back is broken, my mate is terrifying, and last night she whispered threats to the ceiling fan."
"It wasn't listening," Sasha says defensively.
Darius enters just in time to catch that last line and arches a brow.
"I don't even want to know," he mutters.
The moment quickly shifts. Darius becomes alert, as Luke and Mira enters, urgency etched across their faces. His father's aura is dark, stormy with restrained fury.
"Meeting. Now."
The pack's leadership gathers in Darius's office. Lexie is still holding her pickle jar. Michael has a cereal spoon stuck in his pocket. Sasha's jelly cubes wobble ominously.
Luke slams a sealed envelope onto the table. Its crimson wax bears a symbol they all recognize.
"Elijah," Darius says, voice low and dangerous. "From High Moon."
Everyone tenses.
He breaks the seal and reads aloud:
"To Alpha Darius and his Luna. You've taken something that belongs to me. Cassandra is mine. You have until the next full moon to return her to High Moon. If you refuse, I will burn your pack to ash. She is not yours. She never was. She was chosen...for my son. - Alpha Elijah"
Silence. Thick and sharp.
Cassandra stands slowly, her spine straight, her aura rising like moonlit flame. "He doesn't get to demand anything. Not anymore. I was never his son's. He wanted a prophecy. A weapon. A womb. He treated me like some bargaining chip in whatever delusional fairy tale he made up. But I'm not part of his twisted story. I'm part of this pack. I'm stronger now. Because I have all of you."
Her hand slides over her belly. "And I'm not afraid anymore."
Lexie sniffles. "It's the hormones. I'm sobbing. I love her."
"I love her too," Michael whispers, dabbing his eyes with the corner of his shirt.
Aidan mutters, "Sasha made me cry last night with a cereal commercial, so I'm not judging."
Grace steps forward, calm and unwavering. "Mira will coordinate outer defences. No one gets near this pack without us knowing."
Luke steps forward. "We'll increase patrols. Reinforce the warding lines."
Grace nods. "And Cassandra, you'll stay in the packhouse under guard."
"I can handle myself," she says.
Darius interjects. "She's not being caged. She's being protected. There's a difference."
"And you'll be glued to her side anyway," Sasha mumbles, rubbing her back. "Alpha Limpet Mode: Activated."
Cassandra sighs. "Fine. But if someone brings me cold tea again, I will snap."
Lexie salutes. "Operation Hot Tea or Death. Understood."
That night, as the sun dips below the forest canopy, casting long golden shadows across the pack grounds, Darius leads Cassandra to the greenhouse.
It's quiet here...warmer, scented with crushed herbs, blooming moonflowers, and faint citrus.
"I thought you could use some peace," he murmurs.
She closes her eyes, breathing it in. "This is perfect."
He steps behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his lips to her shoulder. "I hate that he even thinks he can force his son to claim you."
"He can't," she whispers. "I'm yours. I chose you."
He turns her gently, hands sliding down to her belly. "The moment you walked into my territory, my world tilted. Everything that's ever mattered...is right here."
Cassandra kisses him, slow and deep, and the greenhouse glows faintly with soft light...pack magic responding to their bond.
Later, as they lie curled together on the couch in his office, a quiet knock comes.
Cassandra's head rests on his chest; Darius absentmindedly traces circles along her spine.
Grace clears her throat. "I think it's time you both learned why Elijah truly wants Cassandra back."
She holds out a weathered leather folder. Its cover is embossed with both the Crescent Moon crest and something older...a sigil etched in silver and obsidian: a crescent moon cradling a blooming rose.
"This is a Bloodline Record," she explains. "Hidden history. One most Alphas have never seen."
Darius opens it cautiously. Magic hums from the parchment within. The script shimmers as if breathing, letters adjusting beneath their gaze until two names appear:
Cassandra Wrenmoor
Darius Blackthorn
Encircled. Intertwined. Fated.
Cassandra leans in. "Wrenmoor? That's my mother's maiden name. She always said it sounded like a forest fairy who writes poetry."
Grace smiles faintly. "The Wrenmoor line traces back to the Silverwood Grove...dream walkers, seers, protectors of the old moon magics. Powerful, and hidden for good reason. And the Blackthorn line...forged for war. Warriors born of storm and shadow. Bound to protect balance between realms."
Darius tilts his head. "So what happens when both lines converge?"
"You get this," Grace says. "The prophecy. The return of the Moonblood. When Wrenmoor and Blackthorn unite, the prophecy awakens and with it, the rise of the true King and Queen."
Cassandra blinks. "We're...what now?"
"The bond between you didn't just forge love," Grace says softly. "It reawakened the old power. The prophecy is alive. You are the Moonblood. The rulers fate has waited for."
A beat of silence.
Michael pokes his head in. "Soooo...does that mean I have to bow now? Because I threw my back out trying to avoid Lexie's latest craving quest."
"I will absolutely not be bowed to," Cassandra says.
"Fine," Lexie calls from the hallway. "But if we're doing magical royalty, I want a sword. Preferably one that glows when people lie."
"I am glowing when people lie," Sasha mutters. "It's called being pregnant."
Grace presses on. "Elijah sensed it, even if he didn't fully understand. That's why he tried so hard to control you. He thought if he forced Cassandra, he could claim the crown, twist the prophecy, steal power that was never meant for him."
Cassandra places a hand protectively over her belly. "He thought I was the key. But he was too afraid to stand beside me...he wanted to control."
Darius takes her hand, eyes burning. "He's not taking anything from us. We write our own legacy now."
"And the twins?" Cassandra asks quietly.
"They matter," Grace says. "They're moon-touched. They'll inherit something powerful. But the prophecy isn't about their birth. It began the moment you two came together. The King and Queen don't rise through heirs. They rise through bond. Through choice. Through love."
Cassandra leans back. "So...I'm hormonal, slightly murderous, and now technically royalty."
Darius grins. "That's my girl."
Lexie yells from down the hall, "All hail Queen Sass and King Grump!"
Aidan groans, "Please don't let this mean more late-night meetings."
Sasha snorts. "It means you're making the King tea and foot rubs on demand."
Outside, the moon glows high and full, casting silver fire across the treetops.
Inside, the prophecy breathes.
The King and Queen have risen.
And their reign...chaotic, magical, and full of love...is just beginning.