(Kael's POV)
I had known the Moon would not stay silent forever.
It never did.
From the moment the human woman crossed Mooncrest's threshold, something shifted—subtle enough that only those sworn to the land would feel it. The walls hummed faintly beneath my feet. The forest leaned closer. Even the wolves on patrol moved with restless uncertainty.
Change had come.
And change was dangerous.
I stood at my post outside the Alpha's chambers long after the halls had emptied, listening to the steady rhythm of the mansion settling into night. Mooncrest spoke in small ways—through creaking stone, through the breath of wind curling down corridors meant to remain still.
Tonight, it spoke of her.
Mei Lin.
She tried hard to follow the rules. I saw it in the way she measured her steps, in the way her eyes flicked instinctively to doors she knew she should not open. Humans often rebelled against boundaries placed upon them.
She did not.
That worried me more than defiance ever could.
"You're pacing," a voice said behind me.
I turned to find Lady Selene watching me from the shadows, her expression calm but sharp. She missed very little—especially when it mattered most.
"I'm thinking," I replied.
She joined me near the tall windows overlooking the courtyard. Below, moonlight washed over stone paths where Mei Lin had walked earlier that evening.
"You should have sent her away," Selene said quietly.
"I tried," I admitted. "The Moon disagreed."
Her lips pressed together. "It always does."
Silence stretched between us, heavy with memory.
I had been there the night everything shattered.
I had watched Alaric fall to his knees in the snow, his howl tearing the sky apart as his Luna's blood soaked into the earth. I had carried him—broken in ways no healer could mend—back to Mooncrest.
I had sworn an oath that night.
To protect him.
To protect the pack.
To protect the world from what grief might turn him into.
That oath weighed heavier now than ever.
"She doesn't know," Selene said softly.
"No," I agreed. "But she senses it."
"She must not learn the truth yet."
"I know."
But knowing and preventing were two very different things.
Later that night, I found Mei Lin near the library—exactly where she was not meant to be. She stood frozen in the corridor, staring at a door etched with symbols older than any living member of the pack.
I cleared my throat.
She nearly jumped out of her skin.
"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I wasn't trying to—"
"I know," I interrupted. "But curiosity here is not harmless."
Her gaze flicked to the door, then back to me. "Everyone keeps saying that."
"Because it's true."
She hesitated. "Is he… dangerous?"
The question was quiet. Earnest.
I thought of the Alpha as he once was—strong, fierce, gentle with his Luna. I thought of the man he had become—controlled, bitter, barely holding himself together.
"Yes," I said honestly. "And no."
She frowned. "That's not comforting."
"It isn't meant to be."
I escorted her back toward her quarters, aware of the way the moonlight clung to her like recognition. The Moon had always favored subtlety. It enjoyed patience.
"She will be hurt," my wolf warned.
"So will he," I replied silently.
Before leaving her, I said, "If the night feels… heavy, stay inside."
She nodded. "I will."
I hoped she meant it.
When I returned to my post, Alaric's voice carried softly from inside his chambers.
"Kael."
I entered.
He sat rigid in his chair, eyes bright with restraint. The moon was too strong tonight—fuller than it should have been, impatient.
"She's beginning to feel it," he said.
"Yes."
"You should remove her."
I met his gaze. "You know that would only hasten it."
His jaw clenched. "I won't destroy another innocent life."
"You won't," I said firmly. "But neither will you outrun fate by standing still."
The silence that followed was thick with old pain.
"I am tired," he said at last. "Of being strong."
I understood that more than he knew.
As I resumed my vigil, the forest stirred beyond the walls. Wolves lifted their heads toward the moon, waiting.
So was I.
Because when the Moon chose, even Betas like me could only bear witness.
And protect what we could—
while praying it would be enough.