Damon held me for a long time.
Not passionately, not desperately—just quietly, his arms wrapped around me like I was the only solid thing in a world that had suddenly turned to water. I could feel his heartbeat against my cheek, steady and strong, and I let myself sink into the warmth of him, into the rare moment of connection.
When he finally pulled back, his eyes were clearer. More focused. The vulnerable man was receding, the Alpha taking his place.
"I need to show you something," he said quietly. He led me to the table covered in maps, pointing to the northern border where someone had drawn rough markings. "This is where they hit us. Three points simultaneously. It's smart—divides our forces, tests our response time."
I studied the map, trying to make sense of the markings. "They were probing. Seeing how fast we could mobilize."
"Exactly." Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe, or respect. "You understand strategy."
"My father was a warrior in my old pack. He used to talk about tactics the way others talk about the weather." I traced the lines on the map with my finger. "If they hit here and here again, they could draw our forces to the edges while sending the main attack through the center."
Damon stared at me for a long moment. "I underestimated you."
"Most people do." I looked up at him, meeting his gaze. "I'm not just a pretty face they picked for the ceremony, Damon. I have skills. Knowledge. A brain. If you'd let me use them, I could actually help."
He had the grace to look uncomfortable. "I know. I'm sorry. I've been so focused on protecting you that I forgot you might not need protecting."
"I always need protecting," I admitted softly. "But I also need purpose. I need to feel like I matter to this pack. To you."
His hand came up to cup my face, his thumb tracing along my cheekbone. "You matter. More than anything. I'm just... I'm not good at showing it."
"Then learn." I leaned into his touch despite myself. "Learn to show it. Because I can't keep living like this, Damon—waking up alone, eating alone, feeling like a ghost in my own home."
Pain flickered across his features. "I'll try. I promise. After this threat is dealt with, I'll—"
There was a sharp knock at the door.
Damon's hand dropped, his expression shuttering instantly. "Enter."
Caleb stepped inside, and for a moment, our eyes met. Something passed between us—I couldn't name it, couldn't define it, but it was there, electric and undeniable. Then he looked away, focusing on Damon.
"We've got a situation. One of the patrols didn't report in."
Damon was already moving, grabbing his weapons belt from where it hung on the wall. "Which patrol? How long overdue?"
"Northern ridge. Two hours." Caleb's voice was tight. "I've got a search party ready. We leave in five minutes."
"I'm coming with you." Damon strapped on his belt, then glanced at me. "Elara, stay here. Lock the door. Don't open it for anyone."
"Damon—"
"Please." The word was soft, almost desperate. "I can't focus if I'm worried about you."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to demand that I be allowed to help, to contribute, to be part of this pack instead of just a thing to be protected. But I saw the fear in his eyes—real fear, raw and undisguised—and I couldn't refuse him.
"I'll stay," I said quietly. "But when you come back, we're going to have a real conversation about my role here. No more shutting me out."
He crossed the room in two strides and kissed me—hard, quick, fierce. Then he was gone, the door closing behind him with a heavy thud.
I stood there for a long moment, my fingers touching my lips where his had just been. Then I moved to the window, watching as the search party assembled—a dozen warriors, grim-faced and armed, with Caleb and Damon at their head. They moved into the forest with practiced efficiency, disappearing between the trees like shadows.
The hut felt impossibly empty without them.
I tried to follow Damon's orders. I locked the door, checked the windows, made sure every possible entrance was secured. Then I sat on the edge of the bed and waited.
An hour passed. Then two. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional distant howl or the rustle of wind through the trees. I paced. I sat. I paced again.
When the knock came, I almost jumped out of my skin.
"Elara?" The voice was familiar—Mira, high and frightened. "Are you in there? Please, you have to help me."
I crossed to the door, my hand on the lock, then hesitated. Damon's words echoed in my head: Don't open it for anyone.
"Mira?" I called through the wood. "What's wrong?"
"Someone's outside my hut. I saw them—a shadow, moving in the dark. I ran here, but I think they followed me. Please, let me in!"
My heart hammered against my ribs. I wanted to open the door, wanted to help her, but the warning was too fresh. Don't open it for anyone.
"I can't, Mira. I'm sorry. Go to the guard post—it's safer there. I'll watch from the window and make sure you get there."
A pause. Then, in a completely different voice: "Smart girl."
The voice wasn't Mira's. It was deeper, rougher, unmistakably male.
I stumbled back from the door, my blood turning to ice. The handle rattled—once, twice, then a heavy thud as something slammed against the wood. The frame held, but barely.
"Open the door, little Luna." The voice was mocking now, cruel. "We just want to talk."
I didn't answer. I ran to the window, peering through the gap in the curtains. A figure stood outside—tall, cloaked in shadow, his face hidden. Behind him, three more shapes moved through the darkness.
Red Claw. They were here, in the heart of the territory.
I looked toward the guard post, but it was too far. By the time anyone reached me, they'd be through the door. I needed a weapon, needed to defend myself—
The door shuddered again, a crack appearing in the wood.
And then, from outside, a roar of fury.
I pressed my face to the window and saw Caleb. He'd appeared from nowhere, launching himself at the figure by my door. They crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs, and suddenly the night exploded into chaos—warriors appearing from every direction, the Red Claw attackers scattering, fighting, dying.
I watched, frozen, as Caleb dispatched the man who'd been at my door. His movements were fluid, deadly, nothing like the warm, smiling Beta I'd come to know. This was a killer, pure and simple, and he was beautiful in his violence.
When the last attacker fell, Caleb straightened. He was breathing hard, blood streaking his face—not his own, I realized, someone else's. He looked toward the hut, toward the window where I stood, and our eyes met.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. Then he walked toward the door, and I heard his voice, rough and urgent.
"Elara? Are you okay? Open the door."
I fumbled with the lock, my hands shaking so badly I could barely work it. When I finally got it open, Caleb stood there, his chest heaving, his eyes wild with fear.
"Are you hurt?" He was already reaching for me, his hands running over my arms, my shoulders, checking for injuries. "Did they touch you? Did they get inside?"
"I'm fine." My voice came out as a whisper. "I didn't open the door. I did what Damon said."
Caleb's eyes closed for a moment, relief flooding his features. Then he pulled me into his arms, holding me so tight I could barely breathe.
"I thought I was going to be too late," he murmured against my hair. "When I saw them at your door... I've never run so fast in my life."
I should have pulled away. Should have remembered that he was the Beta, that I was the Luna, that there were lines we couldn't cross. But I didn't. I wrapped my arms around him and held on, feeling his heart race against mine, feeling safe for the first time all night.
"We need to get you somewhere secure," he said finally, pulling back just enough to look at me. "Damon's still at the ridge—there were more of them there. A diversion, maybe. But I'm not leaving you alone again."
He took my hand—a simple gesture, nothing more—and led me out of the hut. The night air was cold against my skin, sharp with the scent of blood and battle. Warriors moved through the shadows, checking bodies, securing the perimeter.
Caleb led me to his own hut, smaller than the Alpha's but warm and clean inside. He guided me to a chair by the fire, then crouched in front of me, his blue eyes searching my face.
"I'll stand guard outside," he said. "You can sleep here. It's safe."
"You're hurt." I reached up without thinking, my fingers brushing against a cut on his cheek. He flinched slightly, then stilled, his eyes darkening.
"It's nothing."
"Let me clean it. Please. I need to do something, or I'll go crazy."
He hesitated, then nodded. I found cloth and water—he directed me to where he kept supplies—and gently cleaned the wound. It was shallow, already healing, but I took my time, my fingers lingering against his skin.
"Thank you," I whispered. "For saving me."
He looked up at me, and something in his gaze made my heart stop. "I'd do it again. Every time. You know that, right?"
I didn't know what to say. Didn't trust my voice. So I just nodded, my hand still against his cheek.
For a long moment, we stayed like that—crouched by the fire, close enough to feel each other's breath, something unspoken burning between us. Then Caleb pulled away, standing abruptly.
"I should... I need to check the perimeter. Make sure they're all gone." He wouldn't meet my eyes. "Stay here. Lock the door behind me. I'll be back at dawn."
Before I could respond, he was gone, the door closing firmly behind him.
I sat there for a long time, staring at the fire, feeling the ghost of his touch on my skin. My heart was still racing, my mind spinning with everything that had happened.
He saved me, I thought. He ran through a battle to save me.
And try as I might, I couldn't convince myself that the warmth spreading through my chest was just gratitude.
Dawn came slowly, painting the sky in shades of gray and gold. I hadn't slept—couldn't sleep, not after everything. When the knock finally came at the door, I was already on my feet.
"It's me." Caleb's voice, tired but familiar.
I opened the door to find him leaning against the frame, exhaustion written in every line of his body. But he smiled when he saw me—that warm, genuine smile that made my heart flutter.
"All clear," he said. "The Red Claw scouts are dead or gone. Damon's back—he's asking for you."
"Damon." I'd almost forgotten, in the chaos of the night. My mate. My Alpha. The man who'd told me to lock my door and wait. "Is he okay?"
"He's fine. Worried about you." Caleb paused, then added quietly, "I should warn you—he's not happy that I brought you here instead of keeping you in your own hut. It's not... it's not proper, for the Luna to spend the night in the Beta's quarters."
I felt a flush of something—embarrassment, maybe, or guilt. "Nothing happened. You saved my life."
"I know that. You know that." Caleb's eyes met mine. "But the pack might not see it that way. And Damon... he's already on edge. Just... be careful."
I nodded, not trusting my voice. Then I stepped past him, out into the morning light, and walked toward the Alpha's hut where my mate was waiting.
But as I left, I couldn't help glancing back. Caleb stood in his doorway, watching me go, and in his eyes I saw something that made my breath catch.
Longing.
The same longing I felt every time I looked at him.
I turned away quickly, my heart pounding, and walked faster toward Damon. But the image stayed with me—Caleb in the doorway, his blue eyes full of everything we couldn't say, everything we couldn't have.
And I knew, with a certainty that terrified me, that nothing would ever be simple again.