My back was slick with cold sweat.

Thank the Moon Goddess, or Ryan’s claws would have claimed me as another victim.

Once we were outside, Rocky shook off my hand.

He wiped his arm with a look of disgust.

“I wasn’t looking for you,” he muttered.

I nodded quickly. “Thank you.”

Turns out, Rocky had come to ask me to teach him how to sew a pouch.

Stitch by stitch, he worked, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

The “swans” he attempted to embroider looked more like ducks.

I took it from him to show him how, and he leaned in close, his scent of herbs and pine filling the air.

My head felt light, giddy with happiness. “Who’s it for?”

It was a double-swan pouch, and tonight was the pack’s annual Moon Run.

My heart raced, but Rocky just snorted.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Just teach me.”

His hands, holding the needle, were unusually sweaty.

Rocky was always sharp-tongued, but his heart was pure.

In the pack, he only ever stayed close to me, barely speaking to other females.

This pouch had to be for me.

That night, I dressed up and rushed to the pack’s Moon Run gathering.

I’d heard Ryan was staying overnight, his room next to Rocky’s.

At the table, Rocky sat beside me, his expression dark as he downed his drink.

“Annoying,” he grumbled.

I nodded in agreement, biting into a pastry, only to crack my tooth on a hidden pebble. Tears welled up.

“Ow.”

Rocky called me dramatic, holding a glass of water just out of my reach, forcing me to stretch for it.

He always liked to tease me.

As I whispered back at him, Ryan, in the center of the crowd, suddenly looked up, his gaze locking onto me.

His eyes burned red, and the drink in his hand trembled.

I immediately fell silent.

I didn’t dare eat or make a sound.

The room felt stifling, and Ryan was already on his feet, making his way toward me.

I excused myself to get some air and bolted from the table.

“That pouch on your waist is lovely. Which suitor gave it to you?”

Pouch?

I turned toward the voices, spotting a group of younger pack members chatting.

Among them was Gemma, this year’s rising star. Rocky had often praised her, saying she was a thousand times better than me.

I crept closer, eavesdropping.

Gemma was beaming, shyly showing off an awkwardly stitched pouch.

It featured two clumsy ducks, oddly endearing.

It was the one I’d taught Rocky to make, now in her hands.

My chest tightened.

Gemma spotted me and smiled brightly, hanging the pouch prominently on her waist.

“Sister Lennox, isn’t this pouch cute? He’s not great at sewing, but it’s so charming!

“It’s the Moon Run. Don’t you have one?”

My breath caught, and I forced a smile, holding back tears.

“Of course, I just need to find it.”

I fled, their laughter, though not malicious, stinging my back.

I fled back to my room, unable to face the celebration downstairs.

Rocky might have already claimed Gemma as his mate by now. I didn’t understand. He seemed to care for me. He always stood by my side, teased me about my messy hair, and helped me with my training. But then, he’d pull away, his tone light and dismissive. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Lennox,” he’d say, whenever I tried to get closer.

Even the protective mark we made together—he’d given it to someone else.

My fingers ached where I’d pricked them sewing, and the pain mirrored the tightness in my throat. I buried my face in my pillow, muffling my sobs.

The lock clicked, and the door creaked open. I turned, startled, but a shadowy figure was already striding toward me.

It was Ryan.

His eyes were bloodshot, his usual commanding aura replaced by something raw and vulnerable. He dropped to his knees beside my bed, his hands wrapping around my legs. There was no threat in his touch—only a desperate need for comfort.

“Alpha?” I whispered, my voice trembling.

He shook his head. “Call me Ryan,” he said, his voice rough but softer than I’d ever heard it. He rested his chin on my knees, looking up at me with a smile that revealed a faint dimple.

I didn’t know Ryan could look like this—like a wounded wolf seeking solace.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” I stammered. “I didn’t mean to provoke you. Please, Alpha, don’t hold it against me—”

He cut me off with a quiet laugh. “Call me Ryan,” he repeated. Then, in a tone that was almost playful, he added, “Luna, are you tired? Let’s rest.”

I froze at the word *Luna*, my heart pounding. But before I could respond, he leaned his head against my knees, his eyes closing as if he’d already decided this was where he belonged.

Outside, the sounds of the celebration continued, muffled by the walls of my room. A knock came at the door, and Gemma’s voice called out, “Lennox, have you seen the Alpha?”

I didn’t answer. Ryan’s breathing had evened out, his grip on me loosening as he drifted into a light sleep. I sat there, unsure of what to do, my mind racing.

He’d called me *Luna*.

And for the first time, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to run.

Ryan opened his eyes, grinning as he pressed a finger to his lips.

“Shh, we’re playing hide-and-seek. No distractions.”

The sharp edge of his claws pressed lightly against my side, a silent reminder of his unpredictability.

I called out to the warrior outside the door, forcing a laugh. “Haha, haven’t seen him. What’s going on?”

“The Blue Pack just sent an urgent message. Alpha Ryan has an allergy to wolfsbane—he accidentally ingested some earlier.

“If you see him, be careful!

“When he’s under the influence, he loses his memory and becomes uncontrollably aggressive.”

As the footsteps faded down the hall, I turned back to Ryan. His ears were flushed red, and he’d already stripped off his shirt, crawling on all fours toward the bed.

“Alpha, let’s get you back to your room, okay? This isn’t your bed.”

He frowned, his eyes and nose tinged with a faint redness. Tears suddenly welled up, spilling over like a dam had broken.

“You don’t want to sleep with me?”

I kept my voice soft, coaxing. “What do I need to do to get you back, huh? Our good boy? Hmm?”

His lips twitched into a pleased smile. “One kiss for every step.”

By the time I got him back to his room, my lips were sore from all the pecks. Ryan swayed unsteadily, glancing back at me every few steps.

“Like you. Kiss.”

As he stumbled into the room, I raised my hand, aiming to knock him out before he could cause more trouble. But Ryan caught my wrist in a flash, pinning me against the wall. His eyes darkened, his chest pressed close, and his gaze bore into me.

“What are you doing?”

He’s already awake?!

My knees buckled, and I scrambled for an excuse. But Ryan’s expression softened almost immediately. He dropped to his knees on the floor, his head resting against my stomach as he nuzzled mindlessly.

“Sorry, I got scared.

“You have to hug me before I’ll get up.”

I coaxed and prodded, finally getting him onto the bed and convincing him to lie down. As a precaution, I tied his hands with a length of rope. He stayed obedient, stretching out his arms and legs, even asking if I was tired.

I chuckled, brushing my hand over his face and letting my scent calm him into a deep sleep.