Chapter 54

The Crescent pack’s compound was a shadow of what it used to be.

The log cabins and central lodge now sat under a sky so dark it felt like the moon had given up.

Inside the lodge, the main room was quiet except for the faint popping sound of wood in the fireplace, the glow barely touching the long wooden table littered with papers, patrol schedules, supply lists, scribbled notes about missing pack members.

Gabe sat silently in a chair at the head, his night shirt rumpled, his eyes red and glassy from too many sleepless nights and too much whiskey.

A bottle sat within reach, half empty, its red liquid catching the firelight.

Across his chest, in a soft cotton sling, his son Eli slept, his tiny breaths the only thing keeping Gabe from falling apart completely.

The pack was slowly falling apart, fights breaking out, whispers of betrayal, people looking at him like he had answers he didn’t.

He felt it like a cut that wouldn’t stop bleeding, and he wasn’t sure he could stitch it closed.

Across the compound, in a small upstairs room with old dusty floorboards and a leaky window, Clara lay on an old mattress, staring at the ceiling where water stains had designed the wall like old flowers.

She had come back from her parents’ house that morning, unable to handle their warm voices and hopeful eyes, not when her own heart was a black hole.

The mate-bond she’d shared with Liam was gone, everything had snapped like a thread that had been cut, leaving a hollow feeling in her chest.

Even sleep felt like a lost cause, chased off by painful nightmares that she had been having, Liam’s golden eyes fading, his blood soaking her hands, the look of Adele’s wolf’s-bane dagger.

Everything can come back whenever she closes her eyes.

She rolled onto her side, her dark hair sticking to her sweaty neck, and curled up tight, like she could make herself small enough to disappear.

Those maids’ words from her parents’ house kept creeping back, a witch on the mountain, a soul for a soul, an Alpha brought back from the dead.

It was a crazy thought, it felt like something out of a children's story, but it stuck in her head refusing to leave, it was promising something she knew she shouldn’t want.

Meanwhile
Gabe’s fingers grabbed the whiskey bottle, the glass cool against his rough hands.

He had called a meeting with the pack’s council that afternoon, hoping to pull everyone together, but it had gone to hell fast.

Old-timers argued about who should patrol the borders, hunters shouted for blood, and everyone kept throwing around Adele’s name, Tyler’s name, like they were curses.

Gabe had stood there, trying to look like an Alpha, promising they’d hunt down the traitors, but inside, he was sinking.

Jasmine’s absence was a weight on his chest, crushing him every time he breathed.

He saw her in the baby’s tiny nose, in the way the pack looked at him, expecting him to be Liam.

He took a swig, the whiskey burning his throat, but it couldn’t drown out her voice, her laughter, the jokes she told, the way she’d poke his ribs and tell him he was stronger than he thought.

“I’m not, Jas,” he mumbled, his voice barely a whisper, rough from liquor and grief.

The baby yawned, letting out a small whimper, and Gabe’s heart twisted.

He was supposed to be Alpha, supposed to be a dad, but he was failing both, and he knew it.

Meanwhile
Clara held her breath, sweating profusely as she battled another nightmare affecting her.

She was back at the cemetery, the air was filled with fog, Liam’s grave was wide open.

He was there, standing, but his eyes were wrong, black as oil, not his warm golden eyes.

He reached for her, his voice empty and filled with evil.

“Why didn’t you save me, Clara?” She woke with a gasp, her hands grabbing the sheets, her heart slamming against her ribs.

Sweat filled her forehead, her t-shirt clinging to her skin.

The room felt too small, like it was closing in, and she stumbled to the window, shoving it open.

Cold air hit her face, it was as sharp as a slap, but it didn’t touch the fire in her chest.

She pressed her palms to her cheeks, trying to shake off Liam’s twisted face from her memory, that wasn’t the Liam she knew or wanted, but those maids’ words kept circling, a soul for a soul.

What if it wasn’t just a story?

What if she could bring him back?

The thought scared her, but it felt like a rope tossed into the darkness she was stuck in, and she couldn’t stop reaching for it.

Meanwhile
Downstairs, Gabe got up, dragging his boots across the old floorboards as he walked about.

The council’s voices were still in his head, demanding he lock down the borders, find the spies, and make Tyler pay.

He wanted to yell that he was doing his best, that he was just one guy trying to carry a whole pack’s pain.

He stopped by a window, the glass smudged and cold, and looked out at the woods, their shadows thick and heavy.

Tyler was out there, the bastard who had torn them apart, the bastard who had taken Jamie away, taken his child away, taken his friend and alpha away.

Gabe’s hand curled into a fist, his knuckles white.

He would give anything to wrap his hands around Tyler’s throat, but the pack needed him here, and the baby needed him more than revenge did.

He glanced at the sling, at Eli’s tiny hand peeking out, and his throat grew tighter.

“I don’t know how to do this without you,” he said, to Jasmine, to the empty room, to nobody.

Meanwhile

Clara couldn’t stay still.

She swung her legs off the bed, her bare feet hitting the cold floor, and started pacing, the boards creaking under her weight.

The nightmare was still there, Liam’s voice kept replaying in her head like a broken record.

“Why didn’t you save me?”

She stopped by her nightstand, where a small wooden wolf sat, its head tilted to the moon, a gift from Liam, carved on a night when they’d sat by a campfire, laughing about nothing.

Her fingers traced its edges, trembling, and the memory hit hard.

Liam’s arms around her, his breath warm against her neck, promising they would face the world together.

Tears came, hot and fast, and she let them fall, dripping on the wolf.

Those maids’ words came back, a soul for a soul.

She shook her head, trying to push it away, but it was like trying to hold back a flood.

Black magic was wrong, against everything the pack stood for, but if it could bring him back, if she could just hear his voice one more time.

Meanwhile
Gabe poured another drink, the taste of the whiskey in his mouth was sharp but useless against the pain.

He had sent out extra patrols, put more guards on the gates, but the pack was antsy, rumors of spies were beginning to spread everywhere.

Adele’s betrayal had broken something, made everyone look at their neighbors like they might be hiding a knife.

He thought about Eric, his best friend, whose eyes had been filled with guilt at the burial, and Ariana, she had only come here a few days to the disaster and she was from Tyler’s pack, he didn’t suspect her but he knew a lot of people would.

They had stood apart at the cemetery, holding hands standing miles away from each other, and Gabe wondered what they weren’t saying.

He needed them, he needed Clara, he needed anyone, to keep this pack from falling apart, but they were all breaking under their own weight.

Meanwhile

Clara’s door creaked as she walked into the hallway, the compound was quiet except for the faint sound of a generator outside.

She couldn’t stay in that room, she couldn’t let the nightmares win.

Her sneakers were silent on the stairs as she headed for the library, a big room at the back of the lodge stuffed with old books and maps.

Moonlight leaked through a cracked window, lighting up a table where a book lay open, its pages brittle and yellow.

She hesitated, then walked over, her fingers brushing the cover.

The words inside talked about old rituals, witches who made deals with things older than the Moon Goddess.

Her heart skipped, the maids’ story felt even realer now, why did this kind of book have to be the first thing she saw.

She slammed the book shut, her breath shaky, but the words stuck, tempting her with something she wasn’t ready to face.

Meanwhile
Gabe heard footsteps and looked up, hoping for news, but it was just a guard, a kid named Sam, reporting another empty patrol.

Gabe nodded, waving him off, and slumped back in his chair.

The baby let out a soft cry, and Gabe rocked him, his big hand gentle against his son’s back.

He thought about Jasmine, a tear rolling down his cheek as he remembered, the way she always believed in him, and his chest ached like it was caving in.

He had promised her he would keep their family safe, but she was gone, and he was screwing it all up.

The whiskey bottle sat there, calling his name, but he pushed it away, forcing himself to stand.

He had to be Alpha, even if it was killing him.

Clara went back to her room, the book’s words burning in her head.

She sat on the bed, her hands shaking, and whispered into the dark.

“I’d do anything, Liam. Anything.” Black magic was a crazy idea, a betrayal of everything the pack believed, but it was also a feeling of hope, and she couldn’t let it go.

She curled up, holding the wooden wolf, and let the tears come, each one a quiet plea to a goddess who had stopped listening.

Meanwhile
Downstairs, Gabe stood by the fireplace, the fire showing his shadow across the wall, even his shadows looked long and broken.

He looked at his baby, the future of the pack in his tiny face, and promised himself he would keep them together, no matter what it took.

But the weight was too much, and he didn’t know how long he could carry it.

He slowly walked back to his seat, grabbing another bottle of whiskey and a larger map of crescent territory, he had already searched through all the normal routes, and read all the usual maps, he needed something larger, if it meant searching through the whole continent, he was ready to do that, he was ready to find the people who did this, ready to make them pay, with their lives.