Calla's POV
The night was restless.
Calla tossed and turned on her bed, her thin blanket twisted around her legs like vines. Outside, crickets sang their usual lullaby, and the rustling of trees danced with the wind. But her mind wouldn't stop. Something was bothering her—not just Darien's sudden appearance at the stream, but the strange flicker she'd felt when their eyes met.
It wasn't the bond. She knew that. It didn't have the fire or the sharp pull others described when meeting their fated mates. But it had been… something. A tremor. A crack in her calm.
Her wolf had stirred too, not in recognition, but like someone stretching after a long sleep. Quiet. Curious. Not alarmed.
She sat up, rubbing her face, trying to quiet her thoughts. From her small window, she could just make out the tip of the Alpha's mansion across the clearing. Its windows glowed faintly in the darkness, casting golden rectangles onto the grass. Even at night, his house looked solid, grounded—like it belonged to someone born to lead.
Calla's house, like the others in the omega row, was simple. A small wooden cabin with two rooms, a stone fireplace, and uneven floorboards that creaked when you stepped in the wrong place. Still, it was home. It had always been. Omegas weren't given the luxury of big homes or special privileges, but they had their corners of peace. This was hers.
She reached under her pillow and pulled out her mother's old necklace—a crescent moon carved from polished stone, hanging from a leather string. She'd been told it belonged to her great-grandmother, passed down through generations. A symbol of strength, her mother used to say. A reminder that even in darkness, the moon still shines.
Calla clutched it tightly now, breathing in deeply.
Down the hall, Mika slept soundly, her faint snoring a steady rhythm. The two girls shared the small house ever since the older omegas in their row had been moved into mated homes or assigned pack duties elsewhere. Mika had taken the left room; Calla the right.
She swung her feet over the bed and padded softly to the kitchen. The kettle was old, but a cup of warm tea might help her nerves. As she waited for it to boil, her thoughts wandered again.
What was it about Darien that made her so tense? Sure, he was intimidating—tall, broad-shouldered, with a jawline sharp enough to cut air. But it was more than that. He wasn't unkind. Not cruel. He didn't treat omegas like dirt. But he was distant. Controlled. As if he were always watching, always calculating.
He'd barely spoken to her, yet in those brief moments, she felt like he was trying to see through her.
And that can't happen, she thought. He can't find out what I really am. Not yet.
Her wolf shifted inside her again.
You're not ready. Neither are they, it said, quietly.
Calla nodded to herself.
No one could know what she carried inside her—not even Mika. Not until the right moment. She didn't fully understand it either. The power hadn't surfaced again since that strange day when she was a child, and her wolf had screamed inside her skin during a rogue attack, turning the air sharp and vibrating. Everyone thought it was shock. A fluke. Even Calla had believed that.
But something was waking now. She could feel it, like a distant drumbeat beneath her bones.
The kettle hissed softly, and she poured the water into a cracked ceramic mug. She sipped it slowly, warming her hands on the cup.
She remembered the old books her mother used to read—stories of rare wolves, born with gifts tied to the moon itself. Wolves who had sleeping magic inside them that only awoke when they were truly tested. But those were just stories, weren't they?
Then again…
Why had she always felt so different?
The door creaked behind her. She spun, nearly spilling her tea—but it was only Mika, groggy and rubbing her eyes.
"You're up?" Mika muttered.
"Couldn't sleep."
Mika shuffled over to the chair and sat. "Let me guess. The Alpha?"
Calla shrugged. "Sort of."
"I know that look. You've been thinking all night. You get that wrinkle right between your eyebrows."
Calla reached up and smoothed her forehead, laughing softly. "Do not."
"Do too."
They sat in silence for a moment, sipping from mismatched mugs. The comfort of the moment settled over them like a blanket. Safe. Familiar.
"You think he's dangerous?" Calla asked suddenly.
Mika tilted her head. "Darien?"
"Yeah."
"Powerful? Yes. Dangerous? I don't know yet. But he's not cruel. At least, not from what I've seen. He's just… serious. Like he carries too much weight on his shoulders."
Calla looked into her tea. "You think he's hiding something?"
"Probably. Most Alphas do." Mika looked at her carefully. "Why? You're not thinking of getting involved with him, are you?"
Calla snorted. "Definitely not."
Mika grinned. "Good. You'd make a terrible Luna."
Calla rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks."
They both laughed, but a small part of Calla wondered...
Not if she'd ever be Luna. That wasn't even a dream she entertained.
But what would happen if her secret couldn't stay hidden forever?
What if the Alpha wasn't the only one watching?
What if the moon itself was waiting?