Waking Up New Moon

Hope's cruel echo

It had been fourteen days since they last saw her. Fourteen nights since her scent lingered in the air like the whisper of something sacred. The notes she’d left them were folded, refolded, worn soft at the edges by fingers desperate to hold on.

Rowen kept his in the inside pocket of his jacket. He didn’t read it often, not out loud, but he touched it like a lifeline, thumb over the inked words like her voice might rise from the paper. He read between the lines for the things she hadn’t said, wondering what she was holding back. Wondering if she was okay. Wondering if they were still enough.

Luca was quieter than usual, retreating into long runs and hours spent fixing things that didn’t need repair. He read his note every morning before dawn, as if the ritual might tether her to him or him to her. But it never made the ache smaller. If anything, it sharpened it. Some mornings, he stared out at the woods behind the estate, wondering if she looked up at the same sky, if her heart beat heavier at night like his.

And Jace, gods, Jace was unravelling. His note had smudged in places from damp fingertips. He carried it like it might catch fire if he let go. He didn't talk about her absence, but it clung to him. When no one was looking, he’d sit on the edge of the bed they once shared, fingers pressed to his lips, trying to remember the way her skin felt under his hands. Her warmth. Her softness. Her fierce, aching strength.

Nights were the worst.

That was when the silence screamed. When memory became its own kind of torment.

They tried to distract themselves. Training. Pack meetings. Patrols. But even the shift into wolf form didn’t offer the relief it used to. Their beasts were restless, pacing just under the skin, agitated by the missing bond. They hadn’t marked her yet, hadn’t made that final claim, but their souls already belonged to her. And she had taken that part of them with her.

They tried to sleep. But some nights, the mind was cruel. They could see her laughing in that quiet way, biting her lip as she looked at one of them like he was her whole world. They could feel her, warm beneath them, arching, breath hitching in their ear as she whispered their names. The imagined weight of her body, the sound she might make as they moved together, in perfect time, like they were born for it.

The heat in those moments burned. Not just want, need. Desperation. A craving not just for her body but for her presence. Her light.

And when the ache became too much, when the fantasy edged too close to madness, they gave in. Alone. In the dark. Showers scalding hot to cover the sound of their breaths. Hands tight. Movements quick, seeking some kind of release from the hunger clawing at their insides.

But the high never came.

Only guilt.

Only shame.

As if touching themselves with her in their mind was somehow betrayal. As if their desire was too much, too selfish, too base. She was healing. She was fighting demons. And they were here, unraveling in the quiet, wanting things they didn’t deserve.

They didn’t talk about it.

Not with each other.

But the distance was thick between them. Like static, like silence right before a storm.

And always, it came back to the same thought: What if she doesn’t come back?

What if the silence stayed?

What if they weren’t her choice anymore?

The night had been endless.

None of the brothers had truly slept. The silence between them wasn’t angry, It was hollow, filled with unspoken questions and haunting thoughts. Every floorboard creak, every rustle of wind outside the windows, felt like a whisper of her name.

And then, just as the first blush of dawn kissed the sky, a vibration broke the stillness. The distant buzz of a phone, sharp and out of place. Followed almost instantly by the firm press of a mind link slicing through the early morning haze.

“You’re going to want to come to the admin office. External line. No ID. Could be her.”

The words hit like lightning. None of them paused to dress properly or speak to each other. They didn’t need to. The same thought surged through all of them.

Savannah.

Their feet pounded the palace floors, echoing off marble and stone like a war drum. No hesitation. No questions. Just raw instinct and blind hope.

The admin office was already alert when they arrived. One look at the expression of the staff inside, and the triplets knew, everyone knew, this was not a conversation for the ears of strangers.

The staff scattered without being asked, leaving behind a glowing console and a speaker already connected. The call was live.

Rowen reached it first, hand trembling slightly as he turned up the volume.

"Luna?" Luca’s voice cracked as he leaned closer.

But it wasn’t Savannah who answered.

A woman’s voice, calm and clipped, cut through the line. “Hello. Is this the Crescent Moon royal suite?”

Jace’s jaw clenched. His wolf surged forward, agitated by the unfamiliar voice.

“This is Elera,” the woman continued. “I’m the Wellness Operations Coordinator at the Retreat Clinic. I’m calling on behalf of Savannah.”

All three stilled.

The hope that had bloomed, hot and wild in their chests, suddenly shrivelled. Rowen took a step back like he’d been struck.

“She’s not” Luca started, then stopped himself. He couldn’t say it.

“She’s not ready to speak directly,” Elera said gently, as if she knew exactly what she’d interrupted. “But she asked me to check in. She knows it's been a long time. She’s... trying.”

That word, trying, felt like both a balm and a blade.

“She’s safe,” Elera continued. “That’s the first thing she wanted you to know. She’s safe. She’s doing the work. She’s making progress.”

Jace’s fists were clenched at his sides, his knuckles white.

“She” Elera hesitated. “She’s not ready to talk. Not yet. But she wanted you to know she’s not forgetting you.”

Luca turned away, hand over his face, his body visibly shaking with restraint.

Rowen’s voice came low, rough. “Did she say anything else?”

There was a pause. “Only that she thinks about you every day. That the silence is not rejection. She’s just learning to breathe again.”

And for now, they would hold on to that.