“I wouldn’t accept anything else,” I reply.
The room shifts again, not with tension this time but with focus, the air tightening around us in a way that feels deliberate rather than chaotic, and Atticus reaches out to brush his thumb along my wrist, grounding and careful.
“Once this happens,” he says quietly, “you’re the future Luna, whether the pack likes it or not.”
“And there’s nothing Daniel can do about it,” Axel adds, his voice hardening with resolve.
A strange calm settles over me then, cutting through the nerves and the fear, because for the first time since the red moon rose I don’t feel like I’m reacting anymore, I feel like I’m choosing.
“Then let’s stop waiting,” I say softly.
We move together without needing to plan it, instinct guiding us into the center of the room whe
