Moonlit Bond

Vexa’s POV The moon was bleeding again. I didn’t know if it was real or just another dream, but it always started this way. Crimson light spilling across silver clouds, the air humming like it was alive, whispering secrets I wasn’t ready to hear. I could feel her before I saw her, the Moon Goddess. Her voice was soft, but it carried through the fog like a shiver. “When the moon bleeds, your heart shall still choose you.” That line haunted me. Even in sleep, it didn’t let go. I tried to move closer, to see her face, but the ground beneath me cracked like glass. The moonlight pulsed, growing brighter, until it burned my eyes. And then silence. — Present — I woke up gasping, my throat tight. The sheets clung to my skin, damp with sweat. My heart wouldn’t slow down, no matter how hard I pressed my hand against it. It had been weeks since Kale’s rejection, but somehow, every night, the same dream dragged me back into its claws. Outside my window, Moonstone was quiet. The city always looked different at night—less cruel, more honest. Streetlights flickered like broken stars, and the wind smelled of rain and exhaust. Somewhere down the block, a vendor was packing up, his cartwheels creaking over uneven cobblestones. A motorist sped by, the red glow of his tail lights disappearing into fog. Everyone had somewhere to go. Everyone but me. I wrapped my shawl tighter and stepped out into the night. The air was cold enough to bite, but I liked it that way. It kept me awake, kept me from crying again. My boots scuffed against puddles as I walked down the street, past the bakery where Kale used to wait for me after patrols. My chest tightened. Gods, I hated how easily memories ambushed me. Kale my Alpha. My mate. Or he was supposed to be. Until he wasn’t. I could still see the look in his eyes that night in front of the whole Silverclaw pack, the pity, the disgust, the quiet relief as he said the words no wolf ever wants to hear. “You’re not strong enough to stand beside me, Vexa.” Just like that, every piece of me that believed I was worth something shattered. “I’m sorry,” he’d added, but his voice didn’t sound sorry at all. Now, the streets of Moonstone were the only ones that listened. I kept walking, past closed shops and flickering lights, past couples whispering on corners, their laughter stabbing sharper than fangs. My breath came out white in the cold air. Every inhale stung, every exhale carried a bit of the ache I couldn’t hide anymore. Sometimes I wondered if the Moon Goddess had cursed me. If that dream wasn’t a promise but a warning. When the moon bleeds, your heart shall still choose you. What did that even mean? Choose me? I didn’t even know who I was anymore. A shadow moved near the alley up ahead. My heart jumped, stupidly hopeful. But it was just a drunk man staggering home, muttering something about bad luck. He tripped, laughed to himself, and vanished around a corner. I let out a shaky breath. “Pathetic,” I whispered, half to him, half to me. The wind picked up again, sharp and restless. It carried something faint, like a hum beneath the noise of the city. For a moment, I thought I heard my name. Vexa… I froze. My wolf stirred inside me, low and uneasy. “You heard that too?” I murmured, my voice barely a whisper. No answer, but my pulse was hammering now. The moon broke through the clouds, bleeding red for just a heartbeat. A trick of the light, maybe. But I swear I felt it warm against my skin, then searing. “Ow—” I flinched, staring down at my arm. The pale skin glowed faintly where the moonlight touched it, like silver veins trying to break through. My stomach twisted. What the hell was happening to me? I stumbled backward, my breath shallow, trying to shake off the feeling. The glow faded, but the pain lingered. The street was empty now. Too empty. Then, from a distance, I heard it again, faint, soft, but clear this time. “When the moon bleeds…” The words brushed my ear, though no one was there. I turned, scanning the rooftops, the shadows, the street behind me, but there was nothing. Just the sound of my heartbeat and the lonely whisper of wind. Maybe I was losing my mind. Maybe rejection had finally cracked me open. Still, I couldn’t move. My body refused to listen. My gaze caught the sky—clouds, drifting apart, the moon watching like a bleeding eye. And then I realized something that made my blood run cold. The dream wasn’t chasing me. It was leading me.