MasukPOV: JACKSON
I've lost track of how many times JJ has unleashed his anger on me for making him shed tears. I never intended to hurt him; I simply had to speak the truth. Seeing him cry did hit me hard, but it was a necessary conversation. We can never be like the typical mates. I blame the moon goddess for this situation. Chris walked in, a slight frown on his face. "Jackson, what's going on? I saw Saint before he left," he inquired. I could hear the distant sounds of the kids returning from school. "I just told him the truth," I replied flatly. "The truth, as in?" he pressed. "The truth, Chris. I can't love him the way a mate should. I can't fill the void left by Anto; Tom and I are fine just being the two of us. I don't want a mate," I stated, half-sitting, half-standing on my desk, gazing out the window. "No wonder he was in tears. Who wouldn't cry if their mate said something like that? Jackson, you didn't have to break it to him like that," Chris said, concern lacing his tone. I scoffed. "So, I should just erase Anto from my mind and move on to spare him tears?" He sighed deeply. "You know that's not what I meant, Jackson. I would never suggest you forget about Anto. She was the Luna of this pack and my friend." He stepped closer, standing beside me. "All I'm saying is don't shut him out entirely. Who knows? You might be his first mate. Start by being friends with him," he advised. For a few moments, silence enveloped me as I pondered his words. Maintaining a friendship with him seemed harmless enough. Surely, I could balance my memories of Anto while still being there for him. Why hadn't this crossed my mind earlier? If I had, he wouldn't have shed any tears. I'll give you the space to express your thoughts, man. I need to check on the kids; they've been unusually quiet," he remarked as he stepped out. I'll need to talk to Saint later. You might want to consider apologizing for how you behaved earlier, then you'll wonder why I call you a Jackass. Thanks to Chris for knocking some sense into you, JJ chimed in. I rolled my eyes, brushing off his comments. I didn't have the energy for his nonsense. I'd have a proper conversation with him later to clear the air. With that thought, I headed downstairs to check on the kids. «»«»«»«»«»«» It's been three days since I last talked to Saint. I've been putting off reaching out to him, and I'm not sure if it's due to being busy or I just don't care. I glanced at the clock; it was four in the afternoon. At this point, it felt too late to go today. I'll just wait until tomorrow. "Get your lazy self up and go talk to him. You've been dragging this out for far too long," JJ urged with annoyance. Fine, I'll go now. Honestly, I wasn't looking forward to it at all. "Hurry up! I can sense Alex's anxiety, and I'm not sure why, but it feels urgent. Are they in danger? Before I could even voice my concerns, Chris mindlinked me, 'There's an attack at the apartment complex. I'm on my way now.' 'Got it. I'll be there shortly,' I responded, quickly leaving the house. POV: SAINT 10 MINUTES AGO It's been three long days since the Alpha invited me into his home. Three days since he made it clear that he wouldn't love me the way a true mate should. Three days since our last conversation. I've cried until I was exhausted and I'm just so tired of the tears. What did I do to deserve this? I recalled the words of my former pack members. Were they correct? Was this my retribution for not conforming to the expected role of an omega? For straying from tradition? A mate who won't reciprocate my feelings? Lost in thought while doing the dishes, a knock at the door snapped me back to reality. My mom and Mateo had left an hour ago in search of jobs, so I knew it couldn't be them. Curiosity piqued, I dried my hands on the kitchen towel and went to see who was at the door." I opened the door to find a woman standing there. She was slightly shorter than I am and, judging by her appearance, she seemed to be in her early forties. I had never encountered her before, which left me puzzled about her presence. She stepped into the house with an almost controlled air, which only deepened my confusion. Could she be a friend of my mom and came to visit? "Um, excuse me, ma'am, are you looking for my mom? She's not home right now," I said to her. She turned to me, her gaze sweeping over me from head to toe before she replied, "I'm searching for Saint." Her eyes were a storm of emotions, with fear and anger prominently displayed. "Yeah, that's me," I responded. In an instant, her eyes turned completely black as she transformed into a wolf and lunged at me. I was caught off guard, and she managed to sink her claws into my flesh, drawing blood. Pain and terror filled my eyes as I collapsed onto the floor. In a moment of desperation, I shifted into my wolf form, narrowly escaping her next attack. She growled fiercely and charged at me once more. I sidestepped her, using my paws to seize her from behind and hurled her into a table, which shattered upon impact. The loud crash drew the attention of a young man peering from the opposite door. I barely had a moment to see his next move before she lunged at me, catching me off guard and pinning me down. Agony shot through me as she clawed at my face, trying to sink her teeth into my neck until I finally managed to shove her away. Fueled by a mix of anger and pain, I charged at her, but before I could reach her, another wolf slammed me against the wall. My back throbbed with intense pain. Just then, three more wolves arrived, restraining her while the one that had knocked me back tried to do the same to me. I had no idea who they were and instinctively moved against the wall, wary that they might also be a threat. Stealing a quick glance, I noticed the woman had been forced to change back to her human form, her hands now restrained by a man. Two wolves stood before me, baring their teeth and demanding that I shift back. I refused; trust was not on the menu. Their irritation radiated off them, and one of them prepared to lunge at me. "Stop!" a voice boomed from behind them. They froze instantly. Suddenly, I recognized that familiar scent-one I both cherished and despised. He approached us, positioning himself in front of the wolves and locking eyes with me. "Shift," he commanded. Without hesitation, I changed back, panting, my hands and knees pressed against the floor. Every part of me ached, my arms were bleeding, and I could feel a trickle of blood from my face due to the scratches. He turned his attention to the woman, who then began to speak. "I-I didn't mean to do it, Alpha. They told me to," she stammered, her voice hoarse. "Who told you to?" His deep voice reverberated through the walls of the apartment. "T-The voices, Alpha. The v-voices instructed me to do it," she responded. I could sense the bewilderment etched on his face and those around us without needing to see it. What on earth is she saying? "What do you mean, what voices?" he pressed her. "T-The tiny voices, Alpha. They won't stop urging me to k-kill Saint," she said before collapsing forward, slipping into unconsciousness. What in the name of the moon goddess is going on?BLAKEAs soon as school was over, I was dragged out of class into a classroom. The room was filled with broken chairs and tables; the windows were shattered, and it was dusty. I was familiar with this classroom because it was where I was always brought to be beaten. The smell of old dust and mildew clung to the air, a smell I had come to associate with dread long before any fist ever touched me.I didn't know who kicked me from behind, but my knees hit the floor, sending pain through me. I knew my knees would be bruised. Tyson stood in front of me and grabbed my hair. "You know, anytime I see you, I just want to beat you until you die, mute freak," he said before slapping me twice. "But that's not possible, so I'll beat you until you can't ever forget the pain."Tyson punched my stomach, causing me to tumble while clutching my aching abdomen. "Hold him," Tyson commanded Mike and Zach, who held my arms tightly. Tyson grabbed my chin, raising my face up. "I don't know why the Alpha stil
TOM I walked into the living room with my shoulders dropped. "He refused, huh?" I heard pops(Saint) ask as he wiped the table. I could only nod. Blake had always been refusing me, but I still hadn't gotten used to the disappointment. It sat heavy in my chest every single time, a small ache I had learned to carry quietly. Pops sighed. "Maybe on Monday he'll agree?" I gave my pops a 'yeah right' look, prompting him to shrug. "You have to be hopeful." "I just want to be there for him. He was clearly not fine with the way he looked this morning," I said. I knew all too well what Blake went through every night. I'd always been around Blake. I remembered the way Blake's eyes had looked just now, red-rimmed and hollow, the kind of tired that no amount of sleep could fix, and it had taken everything in me not to reach out and pull Blake into a hug I knew wouldn't be welcomed. "We just need to be patient and give him his space when he asks for it," pops said. "At least he acknowledges us.
BLAKE I stared at a smiley Tom, a small frown gracing my forehead. Tom is a lot taller and muscular than I was. He was an Alpha and a warrior after all. His mismatched hair of blonde and black was neatly tied in a low bun with few strands falling on his face. When Tom was in this hairstyle, he looked a lot like his father, Alpha Jackson. "It was raining all night, huh?" I heard him say, probably to break the silence. He still had a smile on his face. I only came out of the room and locked the door before walking away, totally ignoring him but followed behind me. "It was cold all night, did you cover yourself properly?" He asked. I still ignored him, my gaze fixed straight ahead, refusing to give him even the smallest opening. We got to the dining room and met Saint packaging a lunch pack. Probably mine since I don't eat with them. "Good morning, Blake." Saint said to me. I looked at him before bowing my head a little. Over the years, that was my way of greeting Saint and also Alpha
BLAKE The cold wind blew around 2am in New Moon Pack, the noise announced that it would soon rain. It was the season of rain so it was only natural. The trees outside groaned under the weight of the gusts, their branches scraping against windows like fingers begging to be let in, and somewhere far off a howl rose and faded, swallowed whole by the coming rain. I tossed and turned on my bed, sweat dripped down my skin like it had rained on me already. My eyes were closed shut, my body stiff as the noisy wind drowned out the distressed noise I was making. I gripped the bedsheet as the line between reality and the nightmare I was having gradually became thin. The blanket twisted around my legs like it too was trying to hold me down, trap me inside the memory that never let me go. "B-Blake? B-Blake? Where are you?" I heard my mother's scared and pained voice. I frantically searched everywhere but I could only see darkness. I couldn't see anything. My eyes became blurry as tears filled th
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 h







