THE SILVER LUNA

Chapter Three

CHLOE’S POV

I stood near the far end of the ballroom, close to a grand window draped in thick velvet, watching the shadows of trees dance in the moonlight. My heartbeat hadn’t slowed since he walked away. Marcus, the name felt foreign and familiar at the same time. His voice still lingered in my ears, low and warm, his scent like cedar and something darker still hanging in the air like an imprint against my skin.

Why did I feel like I knew him?

Because he might be your mate, my wolf whispered for the hundredth time. But I didn’t answer her. I wasn’t ready for that, not tonight.

I shifted my weight, fingers tugging nervously at the hem of my dress. The room behind me was still humming with life, laughter, clinking glasses, murmurs of flirtation and celebration but I felt disconnected, like I was watching it all through a pane of glass.

“Standing alone again?”

I flinched slightly, then turned. Marcus stood just behind me, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a drink he hadn’t touched. His eyes, deep green and sharp softened when they met mine.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, voice quieter now.

“You didn’t,” I lied, straightening my back.

He tilted his head, studying me. “You were miles away. I figured I’d better come find you before you turned into smoke and disappeared.”

I blinked, unsure if that was meant to be a joke or a warning. He chuckled, then gestured toward the crowd. “Look, I know tonight’s overwhelming. New place, new wolves, too many scents in the air but if there’s anything that makes you uncomfortable, you can tell me.”

That surprised me.

“You barely know me,” I said, cautiously.

“I know enough,” he said simply. “And I know your pack doesn’t have a home anymore. That’s something I can fix.”

My breath caught. I didn’t speak.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “You don’t trust me.”

“I don’t know you,” I corrected.

He paused, then a small smile curved his lips. “Fair enough. But that doesn’t mean you have to stand in the corner like some tragic heroine. Come on, my friends are trying to out-drink each other. It’s ridiculous we might as well watch them crash and burn.”

I hesitated, my fingers curling into my palms. Every instinct in me said stay alert. But another part, a quieter part, my wolf perhaps nudged me gently forward.

“Just a step, just see”.

I nodded, just once.

Marcus’s smile widened as he turned, walking with the kind of silent confidence that only alphas seemed to possess. I followed him across the ballroom floor, weaving through groups of wolves locked in laughter or hushed conversation.

He led me toward a low table surrounded by a half-circle of mismatched chairs. Several young wolves lounged there, all with drinks in hand, dice clattering on a tray, coins stacked in the middle like a prize pile.

“Look who I found,” Marcus announced, and every head turned toward me.

“This her?” a tall brunette with a crooked grin asked. “The mysterious quiet one in the corner?”

I didn’t answer, but Marcus did. “Chloe, meet the worst drinkers in my pack.”

“Rude,” said a boy with silver-blond hair and dimples. “I’m the second worst.”

“I’ve seen you try to beat Leo at shots,” Marcus deadpanned.

The table burst into laughter, and the tension in my shoulders eased a little.

“Come, sit,” the brunette said, patting the seat beside her. “We’re playing truth or dare meets drinking roulette.”

I sat, still cautious, but not as rigid. I could feel Marcus beside me, even though he didn’t sit. He hovered just behind, like a shadow present and watchful.

“Alright,” the blond boy said, “new player, new round. Chloe, pick a number between one and twelve.”

I raised a brow. “Seven.”

He grinned wickedly and rolled the dice. They landed on a five and a two.

“Seven it is,” he said dramatically. “Your challenge: Drink from cup number seven and answer one question truthfully. Deal?”

“What’s in cup seven?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Could be whiskey, could be Tabasco and pickle juice.”

I stared at him. “Why would you do that to anyone?”

“For fun, obviously,” the brunette said, laughing.

I sighed, reached out, and picked up the small black cup marked with a white seven. I took a sip.

Cinnamon whiskey. Tastes strong, but tolerable.

Cheers erupted from the table. “She lives!”

“Now the question,” the blond boy said, leaning forward. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

The laughter quieted a bit. That wasn’t a light question.

I stared down at the empty cup, heart thudding. Then I said, “Stayed silent when I should’ve fought back.”

The mood shifted. No one laughed, but no one judged either. Marcus, behind me, he didn’t move.

“Your turn to ask,” the brunette said quickly, saving the moment. “Pick someone and give them a dare or a truth.”

I pointed at the blond boy. “Truth. Who do you have a crush on in this room?”

He grinned. “Oh, that’s easy. Lily.”

More laughter.

“You just want to fight Mark for her,” someone teased.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Mark’s crazy about her already.”

I smiled faintly. That much was obvious.

Round after round went on and to everyone’s surprise, especially mine, I kept winning. No gross drinks, no embarrassing dares. Just sips of vodka or wine or flavored rum, and easy questions I could dodge or answer with careful honesty.

Eventually, one of the younger wolves, a lanky boy with wild curls, lost five times in a row. When he tried to do a shot while standing on one foot, he tipped straight backward and landed with a thud, arms sprawled.

“Down goes Felix!” someone shouted.

A roar of laughter followed, and I couldn’t help it, my lips parted, and a real, unguarded laugh escaped me. Warm and freeing.

And when I looked up, Marcus was watching me.

Not with the amused grin of the others, not with curiosity. But with something deeper, something unreadable.

He stepped forward, leaning slightly toward me. “I was hoping you’d smile at least once tonight.”

I blinked.

He smiled softly. “It’s beautiful.”

My heart skipped just once.

I didn’t know what to say, so I looked away, cheeks warming, unsure if it was from the alcohol or his words.

But for the first time in what felt like years, I didn’t feel like an outsider.

I felt… included, even if it wouldn’t last.

I was still recovering from Marcus’s compliment when a sudden whoop erupted from across the table. Felix had gotten back up, wobbly but triumphant, demanding a rematch with anyone brave enough.

“No one’s drunk enough to go against you again, Felix,” someone said, chuckling.

“I am,” I said, before thinking.

All eyes turned toward me. So did Marcus.

I blinked. Did I really just say that?

Felix narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion. “You sure, quiet girl?”

I nodded. “But I pick the challenge this time.”

He grinned, clearly enjoying this. “Hit me.”

“Shot for shot. First to quit loses.”

“Oooh,” the others chorused, then started chanting. “Chloe! Chloe!”

I laughed, shaking my head, but something inside me fluttered, light and strange. My old self might’ve said no, might’ve stayed in the corner, wary and still.

But here? Now?

“I accept,” Felix said, already pouring two equal shots.

We clinked glasses. The first went down easy. So did the second. On the fourth, I saw his grin waver. By the sixth, his face had turned red.

“You okay there?” I asked sweetly.

“I’m…fine,” he said, blinking unevenly.

Seventh shot. He coughed.

“Tap out?” I offered.

“I…” he hiccupped “will not surrender!”

He lasted one more.

Then he slumped forward onto the table with a dramatic sigh. “Tell my mother I fought bravely.”

Laughter exploded around the circle, and someone slapped me on the back. “Chloe the Champion!”

I smiled again. Bigger this time, I couldn’t help it.

That warmth was back, settling into my chest like a forgotten feeling, unfamiliar but safe.

Marcus hadn’t said anything through the entire exchange, but I could feel his gaze on me. When I finally turned, he was leaning against the stone wall behind the group, arms crossed over his chest, a slow, approving smirk tugging at his mouth.

He didn’t say a word, just held my gaze.

I looked away quickly, cheeks hot.

Get a grip, I told myself. You’re not some girl with a crush.

You’re a nineteen-year-old who’s lost too much.

Still, when the game slowed and people began breaking into smaller groups again, I slipped out of my chair and wandered to the edge of the room only to find Marcus already there, waiting.

He didn’t speak right away. Just stood beside me, the distance between us charged with something unspoken.

Finally, he said, “You surprised them.”

“Did I?” I asked.

He nodded. “You’re not what they expected.”

I shrugged. “What did they expect?”

“A broken girl.”

His answer made me stiffen.

“I’m not broken,” I said, sharper than I meant to.

“I know,” he said quietly. “That’s what surprised them.”

I studied him. There was no smugness in his voice, no condescension, just honesty. Calm and unwavering.

He turned slightly to face me. “I want you to know something, Chloe. I meant what I said earlier. If there’s anything about this place, my pack, my wolves that makes you uncomfortable, I want you to tell me. You and your people have been through enough.”

My throat tightened. “We’re not your people.”

“Not yet,” he said carefully. “But we could be.”

I didn’t respond.

His words stirred something inside me, a quiet ache I hadn’t let surface in a long time.

“You think your pack is that place?”

“I want it to be,” he said simply. “If you’ll give us the chance.”

He wasn’t forcing me, not demanding either. He was Just offering.

And it shook me more than I wanted to admit.

“I don’t trust easily,” I said.

“I don’t expect you to,” he said, stepping a little closer. “But I hope you’ll let me earn it.”

My eyes met his again. There was something in his gaze, steady and certain. Not pushy, not perfect but real.

My wolf stirred again. It’s him…

I shut her out.

“I’m not ready to decide anything yet,” I whispered.

Marcus nodded. “That’s fair.”

Then, as if sensing I needed a change of energy, he offered me a crooked smile. “Want to head back? I think Felix is planning to challenge you to a dance battle next.”

I huffed a quiet laugh. “He’ll lose again.”

“I hope so. That smile’s worth at least three victories.”

I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t stop the grin that curled at the corners of my lips.