Chapter three

Andy

I didn’t expect to see her today. Not like this.

I’ve seen her from a distance for months—always through reports, the occasional grainy photo, scent trails left on clothing she never knew she dropped. I never meant to get this close. I must not get this close.

I could smell her before I saw her. That scent… it’s not just alluring. It’s anchor. Like something ancient in me remembered her before I even understood why.

And then I saw her—standing there, eyes wide with panic, chest rising too fast.

But I couldn't move.

I just stood there. Watching. Frozen.

I’ve survived a lot of things—wars between packs, betrayals from inside my own bloodline, the ache of losing who I used to be. But this girl? This trembling, haunted, beautiful girl—she’s my undoing.

The worst part?

I’ve known she was mine for years.

I knew the second I felt cross into the boundry. A scent like that doesn’t come from nothing—it was like the moon herself whispered her name into my bones: Shelly.

But she was scared. Scarred. And I was worse. Broken beyond repair. Torn to pieces and scattered into the dust. Touching her would only destroy the little she had holding on. So I stayed away. Watched and hoped Lucy would keep her safe.

I should leave. Walk away. Stay the ghost I’ve been for her this whole time.

But then her eyes met mine.

Just for a second. And I saw the same terror in them that I saw the day she met her first wolf. Only this time… it wasn’t just fear.

It was recognition. She knew.

And in that moment, I knew. The moon was speaking.