Marked By The Moon

Chapter 8 - The New Normal

Olive - POV

It had been a few days since I’d woken up in the cabin. I still wasn’t used to the softness of the sheets, the steady warmth of the fireplace, or the way the morning sun poured through the windows like it had every right to be here. I kept waiting for it to stop—for someone to drag me out of bed and remind me that this wasn’t mine.

But each morning came, and I was still here.

Physically, I was better. Stronger. My ribs didn’t hurt as much, and the bruises were fading. Dr. Melendez—or Allan, as he’d insisted I call him now—had even enrolled me in an online high school. He said he didn’t want me to fall behind. I didn’t know how to tell him I’d stopped dreaming about high school years ago. But maybe… maybe now I could start again.

Still, everything felt unreal. The kindness, the calm, the safety—it all felt like a costume someone would eventually tear off. Like I wasn’t supposed to be here. Like it wasn’t built for me.

That morning, Allan had made a big show of announcing we’d be “project buddies” for the day.

“I want you to tell me how you’d like your room decorated,” he said, leaning casually against the kitchen counter with a mug of something herbal. “Colors, mood, textures. Go wild.”

I blinked at him. “Like… how I’d want it… permanently?”

He smiled. “Exactly that.”

Jennifer clapped her hands and wiggled her eyebrows. “Time for a trip to the attic! Paint, brushes, decor — it’s all up there. You’re officially in charge, Olive.”

I followed them with hesitant steps, not quite believing what was happening.

The cabin was much bigger than I’d originally thought. Every hallway revealed new rooms—each with big windows, plush furniture, and rustic charm. The walls were painted in warm tones, and there were endless bookshelves filled with novels, medical textbooks, and photo frames. It was… elegant. Cozy. Homey.

We spent the morning pulling out old cans of pastel paint, unused fairy lights, string art, and soft pillows. I chose a pale sage green for the walls and lots of white and gold accents. It wasn’t something I’d ever imagined for myself, but now that I saw it, I wanted it. Badly.

As we painted the first coat, Jennifer accidentally tipped over a full can of green onto the tarp. It splashed upward and dotted Allan’s shirt.

“Nice aim,” he muttered, looking down at the mess.

Jennifer snorted. “You needed some flair anyway.”

Then, out of nowhere, I laughed. It slipped out before I could stop it—raw and real.

They both froze and turned toward me.

“What?” I asked, wiping my brush. “It’s funny.”

Allan grinned. “You have a nice laugh, Olive. Should use it more often.”

Jennifer leaned over and whispered loudly, “We don’t charge for joy here, just so you know.”

It was the first time I let myself believe I might not have to be scared all the time.

Later that day, while the paint dried, we sat out on the porch drinking lemonade from tall glasses. The sky stretched wide, the garden blooming in every direction — sunflowers, lavender, little stone paths winding between the trees. That’s when I heard the low purr of a familiar black SUV.

Tobi.

He stepped out with a grin, holding two large shopping bags and a small white box.

“Knock, knock,” he called, even though we were all staring right at him.

He came up the porch steps and handed the bags to me. “Got you a few things.”

I blinked down at them. Inside were clothes—soft shirts and jeans in my size, cozy pyjamas, shampoo, conditioner, skincare kits, even a bonnet for sleeping. At the bottom of the second bag was a brand-new iPhone, still in the box.

“What…?” I stared, my throat closing.

“It’s just stuff,” he said quickly. “Figured you might need some things of your own.”

I couldn’t speak. My hands trembled as I touched the phone box.

“This could feed five omegas for a week,” I whispered. “Why me?”

He looked at me for a long moment. “Because it’s yours now. You don’t owe anyone for existing.”

I swallowed hard, unable to stop the tears as they slipped down my cheeks. I wasn’t used to softness coming without a price. It made me feel full and hollow at the same time.

Later, after dinner, Tobi and I sat on the porch together, watching the last light slip below the horizon. The garden looked like something out of a painting. The trees rustled gently in the wind.

“I still don’t get it,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Why are you being so kind to me? All of a sudden?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“When I was younger,” he said eventually, “I never liked how the pack treated omegas. I didn’t say much. I didn’t know how to fight it. But it always felt wrong.”

I glanced over at him. He looked tired in a way that didn’t show on his face—just in the way he held his shoulders.

“I want to fix it,” he continued. “I can’t change the past, but when I become official Beta in three months… I’m going to start pushing for change. Real change.”

I let the silence settle between us, warm and uncertain.

“I want to help,” he said quietly. “Starting with you.”

He reached into his jacket and pulled out two pairs of fingerless gloves.

“I’m going to teach you how to fight.”

I blinked. “Fight?”

He nodded. “Not because I think you’ll ever need to. But because no one should ever make you feel powerless again.”

I stared at the gloves in his hands. Slowly, I reached for them.

“Even if I’m just an omega?” I asked.

He looked straight at me. “Especially because you’re an omega.”

Something deep inside me stirred — not fear, not hope. Something wilder. Something alive.