A small, worn book. Its leather binding rough at the edges.
I open it.
My dad’s handwriting stares back at me. Notes, sketches, a rough map of territory, symbols I’ve never seen.
“This was his,” she says. “He was recording everything. I thought it was lost, but… I kept it hidden. Even from myself.”
I hold the journal like it’s magic.
Because it is.
I look up at Mom. “What happens now?”
She exhales. “Well… tomorrow, Bolton’s Alpha will want to meet with us. Publicly this time. Officially.”
“Is that bad?”
“No,” she says, softly. “But it means the pack is choosing.”
“You think they’ll accept me?” I ask.
“I think,” she says slowly, “it doesn’t really matter, does it? Bolton marked you—the bond makes your place with the pack a fact. Their acceptance now? It’s just a formality.” She hesitates, fingers tightening around her mug. “But that doesn’t mean they have to accept me.”
I pause, lowering the journal into my lap.
“They do,” I say quietly. “Or they should.”
Mom’s expression flickers, like she’s bracing for a blow that hasn’t come yet. “That’s not how it works, Maya. Packs don’t just forget what someoneused to be—or what they used to do. Especially not when that someone disappeared without explanation.”
“You’re not just my mom,” I finish. “You’re a Luna already. They can learn to see that… or be reminded.”
A beat passes. Then another.
Finally, she lifts her eyes back to mine—dark, tired, and full of something I can’t quite name.
“We’ll see, won’t we?” she says softly.
I nod, and tuck the journal under my arm. Then I kiss her goodnight and head to my room.
At the window, I look out over the trees.
The moon is still out there, glowing.
And somewhere in the distance—I hear howling.
It’s not sad.
It’s not lonely.
It’s a promise.
And for the first time in my life, I feel like I belong.
Chapter 16
Bolton
The pack house is quiet.
