THE SILVER LUNA

Chapter Four

MARCUS’S POV

They say the Moon always shines brighter when it’s about to change someone’s life.

I didn’t believe that sort of thing, at least not until tonight.

The Summer Full Moon Ball is an annual tradition we’ve kept for centuries, and every year it feels like the same thing: laughter echoing through the packhouse halls, drunk wolves howling outside under the moonlight, young pups testing out their first suits or heels, and the rest of us pretending the glitter makes us forget the weight of what we carry. It’s the same, year after year.

I saw her before she saw me.

She stood at the edge of the ballroom like she didn’t belong, but the room bent around her presence anyway. Every wolf in this hall, including me, had power rolling beneath their skin but she carried something else, something quieter and stronger.

More like pain.

I knew that look too well. The kind you wore after you’d lost too much and trusted too little.

I didn’t want to scare her, I didn’t want to push.

But I couldn’t stay away either.

I approached her slowly, one hand in my pocket, the other holding a drink I’d barely touched. The scent of her hit me again. She smells like wildflower and smoke, something fierce buried beneath softness and I nearly stopped breathing.

I hadn’t felt this pull before, not with anyone.

She flinched when I spoke, barely, like a blade tightening in its sheath. And she lied when she said I hadn’t startled her. I let it go.

She was guarded, sharp around the edges, like glass half-buried in the sand. But I could see the softness under all that grit.

And gods help me, I wanted to see more.

When I told her she didn’t have to stand alone, she looked at me like I’d spoken in another language. But when she finally nodded and followed me toward the pack, something shifted. Not just in her, but in me too.

It was the smallest thing. A step, a yes.

But it felt like a f*****g victory.

I didn’t miss the way she stayed cautious, like she was waiting for the floor to collapse beneath her. But I’d been raised to read people, especially wolves and everything about Chloe said she was barely holding herself together. She’s not fragile, not broken. Just tired of carrying everything on her own.

So I watched her carefully. Let her take space. Let her test the edges of the moment without forcing her into it.

And still, she surprised me.

The game started light, drinks, dares, jokes. She hesitated at first, but then something shifted. Her answers were quiet but honest. She didn’t flinch from the hard questions, she didn’t dodge. When she said her worst mistake was staying silent when she should’ve fought back. And something clenched in my chest.

She hadn’t come from weakness, She came from survival and gods, that made her even stronger.

The others didn’t quite know what to do with her, but they respected her quickly. Her silence wasn’t awkward, it had weight and when she finally laughed, she really laughed, her head tilted back, her eyes brighter than I’d seen all night, it hit me like a sucker punch.

That laugh, that was it.

I realized then I didn’t want her to just feel safe here, I wanted her to stay.

When Felix started getting cocky again, I stood back, arms crossed, watching her challenge him like she’d been part of this pack for years. I knew she wasn’t drunk. Not enough to miss what she was doing. She was choosing to join in, to risk a little joy.

And when she won, when they crowned her the champion and she smiled like the weight on her chest had lifted, I couldn’t stop staring.

My wolf was silent, but his presence pressed close. He’d only ever been this still once before, when I found my sister after she ran, half-starved and shaking, and he knew, even before I did, that we were going to get her back.

This was the same kind of stillness.

It didn’t scare me. But it sure as hell rattled me.

When she finally drifted away from the circle again, I moved without thinking. I was already there when she turned and found me waiting.

She didn’t speak and I didn’t push.

Instead, I told her what I saw that she wasn’t what they expected. And when she snapped that she wasn’t broken, something sharp twisted in my ribs.

Because I believed her that she wasn’t.

I told her that too.

And when I said she and her people could have a place here if they wanted it, I meant it. I’d seen too many alphas offer safety with strings attached

This wasn’t that, not for me and not for her.

Chloe didn’t trust me yet. But the way her eyes held mine, even after everything, told me maybe just maybe she didn’t want to keep her walls up forever.

I stepped closer, letting her feel the truth in my presence. No lies, no games.

She said she wasn’t ready to decide.

I nodded.

“Want to head back?” I asked, trying to shift the tension gently. “I think Felix is planning to challenge you to a dance battle next.”

The look she gave me made me chuckle under my breath. She was rolling her eyes, but she was smiling too.

Gods, that smile.

I’d seen hundreds and thousands before but this one? I could live with chasing that one for a long time, maybe even forever.

She smiled again not the cautious, polite one I’d seen earlier, but something warmer and unguarded. It twisted something in my chest.

I didn’t want the moment to end.

“I hope so. That smile’s worth at least three victories,” I said, half-joking, half-serious.

She rolled her eyes, but the smile stayed. And I swore I could’ve stood there forever just watching her like that half lit by moonlight, half cloaked in shadows, beautiful and dangerous in a way that didn’t scare me but pulled me deeper.

We made our way back toward the group, but I stayed a step behind her, content to observe and memorize. Something about Chloe didn’t just pull my attention, it anchored it. Like I’d been drifting and didn’t realize how lost I was until I saw her.

And damn it, I hated being poetic about anything especially this.

I wasn’t supposed to feel this way, not so soon, not tonight. Hell, I’d walked into this ball thinking I’d put on a good face, drink a little, pretend I wasn’t exhausted by leadership and the endless list of problems on my desk.

But then she walked in, quiet, sharp-eyed, holding herself like someone always ready to bolt and everything in me stilled.

Even my wolf had gone quiet, watching and waiting.

So, as the ball began to wind down and wolves broke off into smaller groups, some dancing, some drinking, some already slipping away with hopeful glances. I stayed near her, close enough to be felt, not close enough to scare her.

She didn’t pull away.

Encouraged by that, I dared a little more.

“Hey,” I said, pulling my phone from my pocket and offering it to her. “In case you… ever feel like talking or if you need a friend in this territory or a grumpy Alpha who knows a great burger place.”

She hesitated for a breath, then took the phone.

I watched as she typed, her fingers quick, sure. She saved her name under just Chloe, no emoji, no last name.

But it felt like something monumental.

She handed the phone back, and I felt something shift again, something quieter but just as strong.

The one I didn’t plan to let fray.

I glanced at the screen, saved her contact, and gave her a small smile. “Now I owe you a message so your phone doesn’t think I’m spam.”

That earned me a soft laugh. “You’re not that forgettable, Marcus.”

The way she said my name low, careful, like she wasn’t used to saying it out loud sent a shiver down my spine.

I cleared my throat, dragging myself back to reality. “Tell you what,” I said, searching her face. “Before this night ends, how about a little adventure?”

Her head tilted slightly, curious.

“A run,” I said. “To the border cliffs. It’s quiet there, and the view’s unreal. I thought maybe… I could show you more of the pack. Not as an Alpha. Just…” I paused “…just me.”

For a heartbeat, I thought she might actually say yes.

But then she froze and something in her whole posture shifted like I’d thrown a net over her.

“No,” she said, sharply. Too quickly. “I..I can’t.”

I blinked. “Chloe…”

But she was already stepping back. Her eyes darted past me, to the doors, the crowd, anything but me.

“I’m tired. I should go,” she said, voice clipped.

Before I could say anything else, she was gone weaving through the ballroom like smoke slipping between fingers.

I stood there, pulse pounding, throat tight with something I didn’t want to name.

What just happened?

What did I say that scared her?

I replayed every word in my head, trying to find the moment it all shifted. But nothing made sense. One moment she was laughing, leaning into the group, letting her guard down, and the next — walls up. Gone.

I stayed until the last guest stumbled out and the lights dimmed, pretending to laugh at something Leo said, nodding absently to someone offering congratulations. But my eyes kept drifting toward the door she’d left through.

My wolf was pacing now, restless and agitated.

We found her, he growled.

Yeah. And scared her off.

Still, I wasn’t giving up.

I didn’t know what part of me she ran from, the invitation, the honesty, or the weight of what I felt. but I knew one thing as clearly as I knew my own name, I wanted her.

And if she’d let me, I’d try again.

Next time, I’d be better.

I’d be what she needed, not just what I wanted.

I’d earn her trust.

Even if it took everything I had.