---
The fading sunlight bled across the sky in hues of gold and crimson as Luna stepped off the school bus. She adjusted her backpack and took a deep breath, hoping the long walk home would ease the pounding in her head and the strange, heavy tug in her belly. She felt strange today—stronger, but drained at the same time.
It had been happening more often lately.
As she neared the curve by the abandoned bakery, the uneasy sensation returned. A tingle at the base of her spine. That whispering instinct she couldn't shake.
She slowed her steps, her eyes darting behind her.
No one.
She walked faster.
A soft crunch echoed behind her.
She spun around.
Still no one. Just shadows.
But she wasn't imagining it.
Luna's breath quickened. She reached into her pocket for her father's old knife, gripping it tightly. He always said: "Don't run from the dark, Luna—face it."
Another step echoed.
This time, she didn't turn.
She ran.
Her boots pounded the cracked sidewalk as her house came into view. Just a little further. Just a few steps—
A figure stepped from the alley ahead.
Tall. Broad. Dressed in a long black coat. A hood over their head. Waiting.
Luna skidded to a stop, breathless, knife drawn.
But before she could move or scream, another figure leapt from the shadows—this one faster, sharper.
There was a snarl—a real one. Not human.
The first stalker lunged for her, but the second tackled him midair with inhuman speed. There was a sickening crunch as both figures crashed to the ground in a blur of motion and growls.
Luna backed away, stunned.
In seconds, the hooded attacker fled into the woods, limping.
The second figure stood.
A man. Silver hair at his temples. Sharp eyes that glowed faintly in the dusk. A long scar crossed his cheek, and his coat was stained from the scuffle.
He looked at her—not like she was prey. But like he knew her.
"Luna," he said gently, voice gravelly. "You look just like your father."
She blinked. "Who… who are you?"
He exhaled deeply, glancing toward the woods. "An old friend. Name's Thorne. Your father and I served in the same pack—before everything went to hell."
Her eyes widened. "You're one of them."
"I was," he replied. "But I made a vow—to protect his bloodline."
He looked her over, noting her faint glow, the strange warmth pulsing off her skin.
"They know now," he muttered. "What you're carrying. What you are."
Luna shook her head. "I don't understand—"
"You will," he said. "But not here. You're not safe anymore."
He gestured to a black motorcycle parked nearby. "Come with me. I'll explain everything. And protect you… just like I promised your father."
---
---
(Continued): Fractures and Vows
Luna stepped back from Thorne, still clutching her father's knife. Her eyes darted to the black motorcycle, then back to the scarred man who claimed to know her father.
"I'm not going anywhere with you," she said, voice trembling but firm. "I don't even know you."
Thorne didn't move, but the glow in his eyes dimmed slightly.
"Smart," he said. "Your father would've been proud of that."
She pulled out her phone with shaking hands and hit the call button for Uncle Raymond.
No signal.
Her chest tightened. She tried again—nothing.
"You won't get through," Thorne said, glancing at the tree line. "They're jamming the signal. Whoever followed you… they're not working alone."
Luna clenched her jaw. "Then I'll go home. Raymond will be there."
"Your house might already be watched."
He took a cautious step forward. "Luna… this isn't about trust. It's about survival. That thing stalking you tonight wasn't a rogue. It was a hunter. Sent to collect you—or the baby."
Her fingers tightened around the knife. "How do you even know about the baby?"
Thorne's expression didn't change. "I knew the signs. I've seen them before. You're carrying more than a child. You're carrying prophecy."
Luna's mind raced, panic clawing at her throat.
"Stay away from me," she whispered. "Please."
Thorne didn't argue. He just nodded.
"I'll keep my distance. But I'll be watching, Luna. If you need me… if anything feels wrong again… go to the old train tunnel behind the school. That's where your father and I used to meet when it got dangerous."
He turned, his coat whipping in the wind as he strode to the motorcycle.
Before he put on his helmet, he paused and glanced back.
"You may not trust me now. But soon, you'll wish you had someone to run to."
The engine roared to life, and within seconds, he was gone.
Luna stood alone on the roadside, soaked in moonlight and silence, trembling—not from the cold, but from the truth she hadn't wanted to hear.
---
The Pull Between Them
The house was dark when Luna stepped in, her clothes damp with sweat and fear. She locked the door behind her, every creak of the wood a reminder that safety was an illusion.
Uncle Raymond wasn't home yet.
The silence wrapped around her like a thin blanket—never warm enough.
She wandered into her small bedroom, dropped her bag, and curled up on the bed. But sleep didn't come. Her fingers grazed her stomach, feeling the quiet pulse of something new—something not quite human. Her breath caught.
I miss him.
She didn't say his name. Didn't have to.
Damian.
The thought of his eyes—the fire in them, the coldness he wore like armor, the warmth he tried to bury beneath—made her ache. She missed the way her name sounded when he said it. The way she felt safe when he was near.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
She didn't know that miles away, Damian sat alone in his penthouse, fingers digging into the arms of his chair. His glass of whiskey untouched. His eyes distant.
Something tugged at his core—an ache, like a howl in the back of his mind.
He stood suddenly, knocking the chair back.
"She's calling me," he muttered.
"She's hurting."
Moments Later…
Luna stirred at the sound of a knock—soft but firm. Her heart leapt into her throat.
When she opened the door, he was there.
Damian.
His black coat clung to his tall frame, his dark hair tousled by wind, and his eyes—stormy, searching—met hers instantly.
"How ?," she whispered.
He didn't speak right away. He reached out and brushed a lock of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. His hand trembled slightly.
"I'm always with you."
She collapsed into his arms, burying her face in his chest as he held her tighter than ever before. The wall she had built around her heart cracked just a little more.
"You shouldn't be here," she whispered against him.
"I didn't come to ask for permission," he said softly. "I came because you needed me. And because I needed to see you breathe."
They stood in silence, heartbeats syncing.