MasukSome whispers fade, others leave scars that never heal.The war is over. Sam and Samantha are dead.The New Moon Pack has finally found peace. The blood has dried, the graves have been buried, and life has begun again. Warriors laugh when returning from weekly hunting. Children race through the pack grounds. Mates find each other. The future looks brighter than it has in years.Everyone moved on.Everyone...Except Blake.Every night, he wakes with a gasp, his lungs burning as though he's reliving his mother's final breath. Sleep offers no comfort, only memories. He hears the screams. Sees the blood. Feels the crushing weight of the choices he never truly made.Some tell him he was manipulated, that none of it was his fault.The bullies tormenting him and the sharp looks from older pack members remind him otherwise.So Blake does what he has always done best, he runs.Not with his feet...But with his silence.He avoids the training grounds, skips celebrations. He's broken, and no amo
Some whispers fade. Others leave scars that never heal.The war is over.Sam and Samantha are dead.The New Moon Pack is finally at peace.Everyone moved on...Except Blake.Every night, he wakes up gasping for air, his mother's last breath, loud and echoing in his ears. He never looks in the mirror twice, afraid he'll see the boy who was manipulated into helping destroy the very pack that gave him a home. Some tells him it wasn't his fault, the bullies tells him otherwise.So Blake does what he does best.He runs.Not with his feet, but with his silence.The only person stubborn enough to chase after him is Tom-the future Alpha, the powerful witch everyone fears... and the one person Blake wishes would stop caring.But Tom has loved Blake for far too long to walk away now. He's far too possessive to leave Blake on his own.As Blake struggles to outrun his past, something else begins watching from the shadows.An unseen presence.A pair of eyes that never blink.Waiting.Watching.Pla
Some whispers fade, others leave scars that never heal.The war is over. Sam and Samantha are dead.The New Moon Pack has finally found peace. The blood has dried, the graves have been buried, and life has begun again. Warriors laugh when returning from weekly hunting. Children race through the pack grounds. Mates find each other. The future looks brighter than it has in years.Everyone moved on.Everyone...Except Blake.Every night, he wakes with a gasp, his lungs burning as though he's reliving his mother's final breath. Sleep offers no comfort, only memories. He hears the screams. Sees the blood. Feels the crushing weight of the choices he never truly made.Some tell him he was manipulated, that none of it was his fault.The bullies tormenting him and the sharp looks from older pack members remind him otherwise.So Blake does what he has always done best, he runs.Not with his feet...But with his silence.He avoids the training grounds, skips celebrations. He's broken, and no amo
POV: SAINT"He's going to be alright, and this isn't your fault." Jackson's voice was steady, though I could feel the strain beneath it, the same worry I carried mirrored quietly in the tension of his arms around me."It's been two months, Jackson, and he still won't talk to the therapist." I swallowed hard, the words scraping against a throat already tight with exhaustion."Let him take his time. We shouldn't rush him. He's witnessed so much at such a young age; it's important for him to process everything at his own pace," Jackson said while hugging me, his hand moving in slow, steady circles against my back the way it always did when he was trying to hold both of us together at once."I know, but," I breathed out shakily. "I should have told him sooner. It's all my fault." I sobbed, the guilt I'd been carrying for two months finally breaking loose all at once. "It must be incredibly hard for him to finally realize that his mother died that day.""We can't know what would have happe
POV: SAINT"Do you really have to stand here naked just because you got out of the shower?" I asked my sexy attractive blonde mate, who smirked at me and made me roll my eyes while I silently screamed, water still dripping from his hair onto the floor he clearly had no intention of wiping up."Absolutely. And you enjoy it," he replied, slowly getting dressed while maintaining eye contact, taking his time with every button as though daring me to look away first."I can see the mischief in your eyes, and no, we're not doing anything today. I'm exhausted and the kids are home.""I can take them back to Chris," he suggested right away, already reaching for his phone with an eagerness that made it clear he'd been planning this for a while.I just stared at him."Or your mom?"I continued to give him a blank look, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a response.He raised his hands in a playful gesture of surrender. "Alright, fine. No fucking until they're asleep.""That's not what I m
POV: Saint Two weeks later"What did they say?" I asked Jackson as he walked in through the front door, looking angry, exhausted, and frustrated, his shoulders slumped in a way I'd grown far too used to seeing over the past two weeks."The same old story; we still can't agree on anything," he replied with a deep sigh, dropping into the nearest chair like the weight of the day had finally caught up with him all at once.The past few weeks since the attack have been like this. We hold meetings almost every day to figure out our next steps as a pack, each one going into the next with the same tired arguments and no clearer resolution than the day before.The attack has created chaos and division among pack members and leaders. Most of the blame falls on Jackson—not just because he's the alpha, but because his family is behind the betrayals and attacks, an unfair weight that settled onto his shoulders the moment Samantha's true nature came to light, regardless of how lit





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