The Shattered Moon

Chapter 4 – The Breaking Point

Layla

I should have known someone was watching. I straightened away from Damian. My heart was still pounding in my ears as I made my way back to the packhouse and his promise echoed in my mind with each step.

I don’t start wars. I finish them. His words were on loop in my head, a promise whispered through the trees. I hadn’t wanted him follow me. I didn’t intend for him to see. And I certainly didn’t mean for Marcus to find out. But fate was cruel.

I was just rounding the corner of the back hallway by the garden entrance when I heard the sound, the low snarl. A sound I knew too well. A noise that made my stomach sink and my blood freeze.

Marcus.

He was at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, jaw clenched, eyes glittering with rage. “Where were you?” he demanded in a harsh hiss.

“I needed air,” I murmured, averting my eyes.

“Don’t lie to me, Layla.”

I winced at the sound of him saying my name. He took a step and I instinctively took one back, but the wall was already there.

“You went with him, didn’t you?” he hissed. “The Blackthorn Alpha. I saw you.”

I shook my head, knowing it was no use. “I didn’t do anything wrong.” He jerked my arm so quickly that it took me completely by surprise.

“You humiliated me. Again.”

“I didn’t say anything to him,” I gasped, struggling to free myself. “We just talked.”

“Oh, that’s precious,” he taunted, pulling me tighter. “Just talked. Did you flutter your lashes? Tell him what a monster I am? Is that what this is about now, Layla? You searching for sympathy from strangers?”

“Get off me,” I said, my voice trembling. But he didn’t. He pulled me by the wrist down the hall, past the warriors walking through the hall who all looked aside like they hadn’t seen anything. Like I was invisible. Like I had always been. I scraped my heels on the floor as I shuffled after him. He pushed open the door then slammed it behind us, and we were in the bedroom. The lock clicked loud.

“Marcus—” I started, breathless. But then he spun around toward me and for a moment I thought this was where he was going to hit me.

“I have given you everything,” he snarled. “And this is how you thank me? By embarrassing me in front of him?”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“You never mean to,” he snapped. “But somehow, you always do. Always failing. Always disappointing. And now you’ve gone sneaking off into the woods like a slut to make kissy face with the enemy.” My lips moved, but nothing happened. The shame wound its way up my throat, thick and smothering. I bit my arm and dug my nails into my arm, to hold back the sobs in front of him.

“If you ever embarrass me like that again,” he said, “you won’t come out of this room. Ever. Do you understand?” I nodded, dreading anything more than that.

“You’re mine,” he whispered darkly. “And nobody — nobody — takes what’s mine.” Then he turned away and stalked out, slamming the door behind him. The sound that followed after he left was defeaning. I slowly crumpled to the floor, my knees giving way. My body ached. My chest burned. I looked at the door shut locked, and I knew I wasn’t going to be saved this time. Not from the inside. And yet…

His words reverberated around my head once more. Not Marcus’s threats. Damian’s promise. “I don’t start wars. I finish them.”

I hugged my knees and shrank into the space by the window. The stars were dim through the clouds, but I watched them all the same. Anything to avoid the tears from falling. I was reluctant to believe that someone like Damian would return for someone like me. But gods, I wanted to.

Hours passed. Maybe more. The house was quiet. Too quiet. My body was already too numb against the frigid marble floor. My mind was distracted by a combination of fatigue and dread, so that I wasn’t certain whether I’d simply imagined that entire conversation in the woods. Maybe he hadn’t meant it. Maybe it was just pity. Maybe Marcus was right—

Bang.

The banging outside made me sit bolt upright. Another crash followed. Then a loud snarl. Not a normal one. Not Marcus. Not anyone from our pack. This was deeper. Raw. Furious. Then came the howls. One after another. Warrior wolves.

Fighting.

I jumped to my feet and fled to a window, clamping my hands to the glass. At first all I noticed there were shadows sliding under the trees.

Then—movement. Shifting bodies. Growls and yelps. One of the gates exploded inwards, twisted metal screeching and groaning. Then I saw a flash of silver eyes. My breath caught. Damian. He was here.

I pressed my finger tips harder against the glass. Warriors fought in the clearing, shredding flesh and armour with claws. Moonfang wolves dropped, outnumbered, outflanked. The blackthorn warriors they were like storm with discipline. The line was breaking. I could barely breathe. He’d come back.

For me.

There, right there in the middle of it all, Damian shifted. His wolf was huge—black, fangs bared, dripping blood of those who dared block his path. He had rammed through the two guards like paper, then he had changed direction in the air and landed on two feet. A voice cut through the mayhem.

“Marcus!” he roared. “This is your last warning.” I couldn’t hear the reply. But I caught sight of Marcus’s wolf, smaller, sleeker, on the wide steps of the manse. They circled each other. I could feel the tension building already, even from all the way back here. Thundering the windows shook with the rolling of power through air. I pressed my hands against the glass and trembled. I didn’t know who would win. I did not know if I would live to see the end of this. But I did know it one thing, as surely as I knew the beat of my own heart.

Damian came back.

For me. And somewhere in the racket of violence and war cries, I wasn’t afraid anymore. Because someone finally saw me. Someone came back to fight. Although I never knew what the next day would look like either, I had known I hadn’t been alone tonight.