The morning air in "Bloomfield Park" carried an edge.
The warmth of spring was still there, but something unseen had shifted beneath it, a faint tension that refused to fade.
The pack moved through its routines, but laughter came less easily now. Conversations died when Serena entered the room.
She felt the change like a physical weight pressing against her chest.
Just days ago, she had known every wolf's smile by heart; now, even those closest to her avoided her eyes.
When she passed by the training grounds, the clang of steel against steel filled the air.
Kol stood at the center of the field, overseeing the warriors.
His voice was firm, the command in it undeniable. "Focus. Strength isn't just muscle; it's control."
The younger wolves obeyed, though their strikes lacked the unity he'd once taken pride in.
Aria was there too, her blade flashing in the morning light. Her movements were sharper than usual, every swing driven by something deeper than training.
When one of the younger warriors faltered, Aria's temper snapped. She lunged too hard, striking him across the shoulder. The boy fell to his knees, blood welling from the shallow cut.
"Enough!" Kol's voice thundered across the yard.
The pack stilled instantly. Aria froze, chest heaving.
Her eyes flicked up to meet Kol's, not remorseful, but wild, almost defiant. It lasted only a heartbeat before she looked away, bowing her head.
"My apologies, Alpha," she said quietly. "I lost control."
Kol's frown lingered. "You're one of my best fighters, Aria. Don't forget that discipline defines a warrior."
"Yes, Alpha," she murmured, though her tone carried a bitter edge.
Serena watched from the edge of the clearing, heart heavy. The unease between them all was growing faster than she could mend it.
That evening, Kol returned to their chambers late, his clothes streaked with dirt and sweat. Serena sat by the fireplace, the soft glow painting her face in gold and shadow.
"You pushed them too hard again," she said softly.
Kol dropped onto the chair opposite her. "They're distracted. I can't afford weakness in the ranks right now."
"It's not weakness, Kol," she replied. "It's fear. Can't you feel it? They're afraid of something or someone."
He rubbed a hand over his face. "You're letting the rumors get to you again."
Her expression faltered. "They look at me differently now. Even the children hesitate when I pass. Do you think I'm imagining that?"
Kol looked up at her, frustration breaking through his weariness.
"I think you're listening too much to the whispers. The more you believe them, the more power you give them."
The words came out harsher than he intended. Serena's shoulders stiffened, her eyes dimming.
"I see," she said quietly. "So it's my fault now."
"That's not what I meant," Kol sighed, standing to reach for her hand. But she pulled away before he could touch her.
"I just wanted you to believe me," she whispered.
He didn't know what to say to that. Silence stretched between them, heavy and cold. When Serena turned away, staring into the flames, he realized too late how wide the distance between them had grown.
Night fell hard over Bloomfield. The sky was thick with clouds, and the moon was little more than a faint blur of light.
Far from the main houses, deep within the woods, Aria knelt beside a weathered stone altar hidden beneath tangled roots. The air around her felt colder there, still and watchful.
Her hand trembled as she pulled a small object from her cloak: a wolf fang threaded on a chain, blackened at the tip.
She'd found it months ago near the ruins north of the territory, a relic whispered to hold old power. That night, desperation made her bold enough to use it.
"Moon above," she whispered, voice shaking, "if you can hear me… Give me what I deserve. Give me what she stole."
The forest seemed to hush.
A cold gust swept through the clearing, snuffing out her lantern.
For a moment, she thought she'd imagined the faint whisper that answered her, a voice soft and hollow, like wind through bone.
"The moon chooses. But blood can unmake what the moon binds."
Aria's breath caught. The words echoed inside her skull, curling around her jealousy until it pulsed like a second heartbeat.
She didn't understand what the voice meant, not fully, but the idea sank in deep.
If the moon had chosen Serena, then Aria would simply have to change the moon's mind.
Back at the packhouse, Serena couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw flashes of red moonlight and heard that same haunting whisper from her dream.
She rose quietly so as not to wake Kol and slipped outside.
The air was damp and cold, carrying the faint scent of pine and rain. The night felt alive, not with peace, but with watchful silence.
The forest stretched out before her, dark and endless.
Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted, the sound sharp in the quiet.
Serena wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders and tried to shake the unease.
Then she heard footsteps. Soft, deliberate. Too slow to belong to an animal.
"Who's there?" She called out, her voice steady despite the quickening of her heart.
No one answered. Only the trees, swaying gently in the breeze.
She stared into the shadows until her eyes played tricks on her, shapes shifting between trunks, flashes of movement just out of reach.
When she turned back toward the packhouse, she caught a glimpse of something at the edge of the treeline: a pair of faintly glowing eyes.
Her breath hitched. For a heartbeat, she thought it was Kol. But the eyes vanished before she could speak again, leaving her alone in the dark.
Serena lingered for a long moment before retreating inside.
She sat by the window for the rest of the night, waiting for dawn, the image of those eyes burned into her mind.
In the forest, Aria watched the light from Serena's window flicker through the trees. Her own eyes still glowed faintly, the remnants of whatever darkness she had awakened whispering in her veins.
She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling her heart hammer against her ribs, fear, excitement, and hunger all tangled together.
"Soon," she murmured. "He'll see who truly deserves him."
A gust of wind tore through the branches above, scattering leaves like whispers through the night.
Aria smiled faintly as she turned away, the sound of her footsteps swallowed by the forest.
By sunrise, "Bloomfield Pack" would rise again as if nothing had changed.
But in truth, everything had. The air was colder, the trust thinner, and beneath it all, the shadow of betrayal had already begun to take form.