Seven
1054 Words
The Crystal Moon Pack was alive with excitement. The pack house glittered under strings of enchanted lights, and the massive courtyard had been transformed into a royal garden of celebration. The night air was thick with laughter, music, and the scent of roasted meats and sweet pastries.
It was Rohan’s eighteenth birthday—the night he would officially become Alpha.
Everyone was there. Elders, warriors, omegas, even children danced around the fire pits. The air was filled with the hum of happiness and anticipation. Pack members from neighboring territories arrived, bearing gifts and blessings. Some came out of obligation, others out of genuine respect. And then… came the Dreadfang Pack.
Alpha Cain of Dreadfang entered the courtyard dressed in dark robes, his eyes sharp and calculating. His presence cast a subtle chill in the air. No one trusted him, but tradition demanded invitations to all Alphas. The council believed in keeping enemies close—where they could watch every move.
Crystal Moon warriors lined the courtyard, keeping a vigilant eye on every outsider. The sacred Moonstone was secure in its hidden chamber, where no wolf—friend or foe—could touch it.
At the center of it all stood Rohan in a tailored black suit, broad-shouldered and glowing with confidence. The women swooned, the elders watched proudly, and Tracy… Tracy was glowing with joy.
She wore a stunning red gown, clinging to her like a second skin. Her long hair was curled into soft waves, her lips painted to perfection. She looked every bit the Luna she imagined herself to be.
“This is it,” she whispered to her friend, clutching her wine glass. “Any second now, the bond will snap into place. I know I’m his mate.”
Her friend nodded, but her eyes flicked with uncertainty.
The night wore on. Dancers twirled, children played tag between tables, and Abigail watched from a quiet corner near the food table. Emma and Tommy stood with her, laughing about the drunk warrior who had just face-planted into a pie.
Abigail’s eyes, however, were glued to Rohan. He was magnetic, the perfect Alpha—strong, graceful, with a smile that could melt glaciers. Her wolf, Iris, stirred in her mind.
“If he looks any hotter, we’re going to melt right into this grass,” Iris sighed dramatically.
Abigail smiled silently.
“Do you think he’ll find his mate tonight? I bet it’s not Tracy. If it is, I swear I’m jumping into the lake.”
Abigail rolled her eyes but her heart raced. Something felt… strange tonight. She brushed it off as nerves.
As midnight approached, a hush fell over the pack. Alpha Jake and Luna Mae stood on the platform beneath the moonlit archway carved from white stone. Rohan stepped forward to meet them, the moonlight illuminating his striking features.
Alpha Jake’s deep voice rang through the crowd.
“Tonight, my son turns eighteen—the age of strength, wisdom, and leadership. It is the will of the Moon Goddess that he now takes his rightful place as Alpha of the Crystal Moon Pack.”
He turned to Rohan and pulled a dagger from a velvet cloth. Rohan extended his hand without hesitation. The blade sliced across his palm, clean and swift.
Jake followed suit.
Palm to palm, their blood merged.
“I, Alpha Jake of the Crystal Moon Pack, pass my title and spirit to my son, Rohan. May he lead with honor, courage, and strength.”
The crowd erupted in cheers.
Luna Mae stepped forward, placing a silver circlet on Rohan’s head, engraved with the crest of the Moon. The moment it touched him, a gust of wind blew through the courtyard, lifting sparks from the fire into the night sky.
Rohan was now Alpha.
As the celebration resumed, Luna Mae leaned in and whispered, “Have you found her yet?”
Rohan shook his head, lips tight. “Not yet.”
Minutes later, Tracy practically ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck. “Rohan! Happy birthday, my Alpha!” she beamed.
He returned the hug but gently pulled away. “Tracy, I… I need to talk to you.”
Her smile faltered.
He sighed. “You’re not my mate.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I didn’t feel the bond. When I turned eighteen… nothing snapped into place.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “You’re lying. You just haven’t felt it yet. It’ll happen. My birthday is in two days, maybe that’s why—”
“Tracy,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”
She stepped back, her expression crumbling before she turned and ran into the crowd.
Rohan exhaled, the weight of leadership and heartbreak settling on his shoulders.
As the party began to wind down, guests started to leave. Many returned to their homes, others to their rooms within the massive pack house.
Abigail and her friends helped clear dishes and gather decorations. She caught a glimpse of Rohan standing near the balcony, his expression unreadable.
Then he turned and began walking toward the pack house. The moment he crossed the threshold, something changed.
Dean stirred.
“Whoa. What’s that?”
Rohan frowned. “What’s what?”
“Do you smell that?” Dean practically growled. “Oh Moon… What is that scent?”
A soft breeze passed by, and Rohan stopped dead in his tracks.
Vanilla. Sweet orange. And something else—something intoxicating, ethereal, like the memory of a dream. His breath caught.
“That’s… that’s her,” Dean whispered. “That’s our mate.”
Rohan’s heart thudded.
He turned sharply, scanning the hallway. The scent was stronger now, wrapping around him like a spell. He followed it through the corridor, past the grand staircase, into the lounge—nothing.
“She’s close,” Dean urged. “She’s right here somewhere—why can’t we see her?”
But no matter how many rooms he checked, no one was there. The scent was fading.
His wolf growled, pacing in his head. “We’re so close—I felt it. She’s here. I know it.”
But slowly, the scent vanished. Rohan stood still, heart pounding, his fists clenched.
Whoever she was, she had just slipped through his fingers.
And neither he nor Dean could rest until they found her.
- Writer
