Howl for Me, Not Her

Chapter 5 He Said She Was Softer. I Said “Good”

Marcus balled his fists, face twisting like he’d been gut-punched. “Elena, I’ve told you a million times—me and her? Nothin’ goin’ on.”“That necklace was just a trinket. Can we chill with the theatrics already?”

Before I could fire back, Clara stormed up, hands on hips, “You kiddin’ me, dude?”“A moonstone worth a fortune, and you’re sellin’ it like it’s ‘just friendly’?’ Get outta here with that noise!”“Total waste of our artisans’ blood and sweat.”“Marcus, you’re straight-up delusional.”

He froze, gobsmacked by her onslaught.

I didn’t waste another breath, voice cold as ice, “It’s my damn birthday.”“I don’t wanna see you or her sorry mug around here.”“Grab your sidepiece and bounce.”

I whirled and marched for the terrace, the cool autumn air calling me.Fast footsteps chased after me.

Suddenly, Marcus latched onto my arm, eyes wild with panic.“We gotta hash this out. There’s stuff I need to set straight,” he pleaded, voice tight with strain.

He tried dragging me outside, but I jerked free, rubbing the ache where his grip bit too deep.“What’s left to say? You see how it is, right?”“Our bond’s toast...”

“I ain’t lettin’ it die that easy,” he cut in, eyes begging for a c***k in my armor.“If Lila’s been messin’ with you, I’ll back off—I swear”“And that necklace? I’ll buy you a new one. Just give me a second to explain” .

I barked a laugh, bitter as hell. “Marcus, you think this is about some shiny rock?”“You really think I’m sweatin’ a necklace?”

I stepped back, “Quit it—you’re diggin’ a deeper hole, and it’s makin’ me wanna hurl.”“I’m done. We’re history—I’m out!”

“Ah—!”

A shocked gasp rippled through the hall.

We both spun toward the chaos and saw wolves crowding the ceremonial feast table.

I dashed over and found Lila sprawled in the wreckage of my birthday spread, meat and berries smeared across her.

Packmate Lisa grabbed my arm, freaking out, “Elena! I didn’t shove her, I swear—she just ate it on her own!”

Marcus trailed me, his face darkening as he stared at Lila.

I clocked his hands—fists clenched, knuckles white, the same old giveaway. He cared about her, even if he played it cool.

I smirked, watching the mess unfold like a bad movie.

Lila, quivering, couldn’t meet my eyes from the pile of ruined food.When Marcus didn’t move to help, her head dropped, despair washing over her.

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she scrambled up.“I just tripped, honest,” she mumbled.I’m sorry, Luna Elena—I didn’t mean to ruin your feast.

Her tears hit the floor like rain, and yeah, even I felt a twinge seeing her like that.

Hey, cut the sob story—who are you trying to fool?It’s my night that’s ruined, and I’m not the one bawling. Why the sudden tears?” Lisa hissed in my ear.

Lila caught it, choking back sobs, her teary eyes “casting us as the villains.”

Behind us, Marcus snapped.

He clenched his fists harder and shoved past me.Then, with the whole pack watching, he scooped Lila up like some damn hero.

Lisa gasped, hand flying to her mouth, and Marcus barked, “Lisa, zip it with the snark. It wasn’t on purpose.”“You wanna point fingers? Point ‘em at me—I crashed this joint.”

He turned to me, “I’ll fix the feast, I promise.”

He’d barely stepped away when I shouted, “And this? “Doesn’t this change your mind about ditching our bond?”“Marcus, what the hell am I to you?”“You hangin’ around for me, or my fam’s clout in the pack?”

After that trainwreck of a night, word of Marcus’s betrayal blazed through Lunar Bay like a forest fire.

Some wolves sent pity howls my way; others clowned me on pack chats, callin’ me a sucker.Didn’t faze me—I was already plotting my solo dip to the Silver Coast.

After clueing in my parents, I hopped a flight the next day to Lunar Bay’s tourist strip, a hotspot crawling with outsiders.Late autumn leaves crunched underfoot, but I felt hollowed out.

Dragging my luggage, I caught my foot and pitched forward.Before I ate pavement, a muscled arm hooked my waist, yanking me against a rock-solid chest.The sudden touch sent a chill racing up my spine.

Once I got my footing, I turned to thank whoever saved my ass.“Elena Moonridge?” A deep, gravelly voice hit me like a shockwave.

I looked up—sharp jawline, piercing eyes, the works.He stared at me, warmth flickering in his gaze.“Who you supposed to be?” I asked, squinting, brain scrambling to place him.

“For real, Elena? "It’s me, Vincent Wolfsbane,” he said, chuckling low.

Then it clicked—the snotty-nosed, chunky pup from way back.This was him? All grown into some fine-ass wolf?

My jaw hit the floor, and he laughed, tapping my forehead like we were still kids.I rubbed the spot, mind blown.

Back in the day, I was the one smacking his head.We were denmates, him, me, and Marcus, thick as thieves.Vincent was my go-to punching bag, always trailing me despite my teasing.Weirdly, he seemed to dig it.

Till his fam split when we were teens—pack biz dragged them off.He bawled like a pup when they left, hating the distance.No choice, though—they hauled him away.

His folks used to rib him, “Wanna stick with Elena? Bulk up, become an Alpha, then see if she’ll take you.”I didn’t get the joke back then—just kid stuff, right?

Now, damn near a decade later in 2023, I never thought I’d crash into him again.Snapping out of it, I realized he was inches away, his woodsy scent wrapping around me like a blanket.

I hopped back, cleared my throat, and sized him up. “You were off the grid, yeah? What dragged you back?”“It’s been forever—you’re a whole new wolf; I almost didn’t clock you.”

He locked eyes with me, intense, then smirked soft as he grabbed my bag.His voice dropped, teasing, “So, Elena, I level up enough for you?”His words made me think of the old ways—of Alpha rights and Luna bonds marked by claw or blood.

In the Moonridge archives, it’s written that once a Luna accepts a second mate, the Moon Goddess must witness the ritual under a crescent moon, else the bond won’t hold.

Back in the day, wolves challenged rivals in wolf form to claim their mates. That part's outlawed now, but the instincts linger. I wasn’t sure if Vincent knew the old rites—or if he even cared.“You feelin’ the vibe now?”

I blinked, thrown.Was he messin’ with me, or straight-up hittin’ on me?