Bound by the Moonlight

Jade's POV Three more days. I traced the last red X I had drawn on my tattered wall calendar, my fingers pausing on the square that marked the day I turned eighteen. A day that, for most wolves, meant celebration and joy. For me, it meant possibility. Change. Maybe even freedom. The attic room creaked around me with every breath of wind that slipped through the warped window panes. It wasn’t much—bare walls, a lumpy mattress on the floor, and stacks of old books I’d scavenged from the school library discard pile—but it was mine. And more importantly, it was quiet. No footsteps thundering past. No insults thrown like knives. No Hunter Ashford’s smug voice calling me pathetic. Just silence and the soft rustle of paper as I turned my calendar back a few pages. Each box was filled with small, slanted handwriting. Countdown notes. Scribbles of encouragement. “Hang on,” “Almost there,” “One more week.” Every time I’d survived a day at Crescent High without breaking down, I came home and marked it. It was childish. Stupid. But it was all I had. Eighteen. That’s when wolves came of age. That’s when our wolves fully awakened—if they hadn’t already—and the mate bond revealed itself. For most, it was a time of celebration, a spark of magic from the Moon Goddess, a mate. For someone like me? It was a gamble. If I had a mate, and they were someone kind—someone outside of this cruel, cold pack—maybe I’d have a chance. Someone would see me, claim me, and take me far away from Crescent Moon. From the bullying. From the attic. From him. But fate rarely smiled on girls like me. “Jade!” a shrill voice echoed from downstairs. I flinched. “The laundry’s not going to fold itself.” Mrs. Mallory. Beta's wife. “I’m coming,” I called back quickly, tucking the calendar behind an old book and rushing down the attic stairs. The laundry was already in a pile on the floor when I entered the kitchen. Mallory barely glanced at me, too busy sipping her coffee and scrolling through her phone. “Try not to wrinkle the Alpha’s shirts,” she muttered. “He’s got that charity event tonight. We don’t need him embarrassed by omega hands.” I said nothing. There was nothing to say. I folded in silence, careful and quick. My hands moved mechanically, folding Hunter Ashford’s crisp button-downs as if they didn’t belong to the boy who’d tripped me in the hall two days ago and called me “runt” in front of the entire cafeteria. As if they didn’t belong to the future Alpha of our pack. As if he hadn’t made it his mission to make my life miserable since we were kids. Sometimes I wondered if he even remembered that we used to play together, before ranks started to matter. Before his father trained that cruel edge into him. But maybe that boy was never real. Maybe I had imagined the kindness behind his eyes. I shook the thought from my head and kept folding. By afternoon, I slipped away to the woods just outside the pack border—my only sanctuary. The forest smelled of pine, wet stone, and something else… something stirring. My wolf shifted restlessly inside me. She wasn’t fully awake yet, but her instincts were getting sharper. Hungrier. Like she was waiting. “I know,” I whispered, pressing my palm to my chest. “Three more days.” I didn’t have many friends. Ashley was the only one who treated me like a real person, and even she couldn’t fully protect me from the social hierarchy of Crescent High. Popularity and strength came from rank, and I had neither. What I did have were books—stories of brave girls and distant lands—and the secret hope that I’d be brave one day too. That my mate would be someone kind. That the Moon Goddess hadn’t forgotten about girls like me. And still… in my quietest moments, I feared the worst. What if I didn’t have a mate? Or worse—what if I did, and it was someone who hated me? My stomach twisted as a shadow crossed the clearing. For a second, I thought I saw someone standing on the ridge—a tall figure with dark hair, watching. Hunter? No. He wouldn't follow me here. Would he? I blinked. The figure was gone. By the time I returned to the packhouse, the sun had dipped below the hills. I moved quietly through the kitchen, ignoring the clatter of laughter from the dining hall. Mallory didn’t call for me. I wasn't needed tonight, apparently. Back in the attic, I peeled off my jacket and sat cross-legged on the bed, staring once again at the calendar. Three days. I reached for my pen and added a note beside the red circle: "Please let him be kind." Then, after a pause, I added another: "Please let me matter to someone." The world kept turning. The clock kept ticking. And I… I kept counting down.