Chapter Six

Lucy

There would be no running tonight.

No chasing the wind.

No release.

Pack-wide Notice:

There will be no hunting or running tonight. Compulsory curfew begins at 7 p.m.

This may continue for the next few days.

Enjoy the gaze of Luna from the confines of your home until the threat is resolved.

If ANYONE fails to obey… the consequences have been left to your imagination.

I stared at the message, pulse rising with dread. This can't be happening. Not on the full moon. Not now.

Not when my skin already felt too tight. Not when my wolf was pressing harder against my bones, pacing restlessly beneath the surface, begging to be let out.

And definitely not when I was living with someone whose scent made every part of me want to shift and claim.

The full moon affects all of us differently. It strips away our masks and quiets the civil parts of ourselves. It doesn’t turn us into animals—we’re not slaves to instinct—but it turns everything up. Louder. Sharper. More dangerous.

If you’re angry, you burn hotter.

If you’re grieving, you drown in it.

And if you’re already craving someone…

Well.

Raymond’s scent had been haunting me for days. Subtle at first—like fresh pine and warm cedar—but now it was everywhere. I kept catching it in the halls, in the woods, on my own skin, like he was following me. But I never saw him.

It wasn’t just the scent that unhinged me. It was my reaction to it.

I shouldn’t want to shift just to find him. I shouldn’t want to roll in his scent like a wild thing. I shouldn’t want to run with him under the moonlight, to bare my throat, to sink my teeth into his neck and mark him where everyone could see.

I shouldn't—but I did. How was that even possible?

The craving curled under my skin like fire. My claws ached to extend. My body was buzzing, wired, restless. I needed to run. I needed to howl.

But not tonight.

Not if I’m locked in with Shelly.

She didn’t know what I was. What we were. And if my wolf surfaced tonight, if she saw what I really was—what I felt—I didn’t know if I could ever walk it back.

I was spiraling, already halfway to panicking, when I smelled him.

Andy.

His scent was quiet like snowfall. Cold, clean, and sharp. How did he always manage to move like smoke?

“Andy?” I turned, startled. “Sorry—Alpha. What can I help you with?”

He didn’t say anything. Just stared.

Something unreadable passed over his face.

“Alpha?” I asked again, falling into old instinct. I dropped my gaze and tilted my head slightly—submitting, barely, but enough to show respect.

He glanced down at the movement and took a quiet breath. I saw the way his nostrils flared.

“We’re not in the Middle Ages,” he said, voice low. “No need to bare your neck or call me Alpha.”

“It’s not about tradition,” I said carefully. “It’s about respect, Alpha.”

“Do whatever you want,” he muttered, cutting me off.

A flicker of heat lit behind my eyes. The edge in his voice, the indifference, it snapped something tight in me.

I straightened and glared. I was already too close to the edge. Growling softly under my breath.

“Calm yourself,” he said.

His voice rolled over me like cold water over flames. It didn’t soothe—it shocked. I froze.

Then he added, in that quiet way of his, “Close your mouth, Pea.”

The sound of it nearly undid me.

Pea.

He hadn’t called me that in years. Not since before everything cracked and fell apart. Before he stopped looking at me like I mattered.

The word dropped between us like a stone.

“You…” I choked out, unsure if the emotion in my throat was anger or something worse. “What do you want?”

“Stay indoors, Pea.”

I blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you going door-to-door delivering the same warning? Because I got the message already—”

“You’re not everyone,” he said, cutting me off again. “And I know you.”

My face flushed. His words burned hotter than they should’ve. I clenched my fists to hide the tremor.

“You piece of—”

“You are still my Beta,” he said sharply. “And a member of the family. You will obey.”

I ground my teeth. My claws threatened to break skin. I wanted to scream, to challenge him, to do anything but submit.

But I couldn’t—not to him. Not now.

He turned to leave.

“Andy,” I said, just before he reached the door. “My wolf is too close to the surface.”

He didn’t turn around. Just paused.

“You’ll have to control it,” he said. “You’re not weak. And you can shift here if you need to.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but then he added, more quietly, “Oh—and watch your human.”

Then he was gone.

Of course he knew about Shelly. Of course.

I looked down at my palm and winced, finally noticing the blood. I’d dug my claws in without realizing.

Control. Right.

Easy for him to say.