Moonlight In Ash

CHAPTER 3

I opened the front door, expecting the usual eerie quiet of an empty house, the smell of leftover pizza lingering like a bad memory, the faint hum of the heater the only companion. But I froze mid-step. Dad was there. Sitting at the dining room table, papers spread out in front of him like a tiny paper city, his pen scratching furiously. Mom was on the couch, a statue in pastel sweatpants, arms folded, eyes trained on him like she expected him to explode.

They weren’t speaking.

Not that I was shocked. They hadn’t been speaking much at all for weeks. I dropped my backpack with a soft thud, trying to look casual, like I wasn’t staring at a scene that could have been lifted straight out of a soap opera.

“Hey.” I said lightly.

Dad glanced up from his paperwork. His eyes softened briefly when they landed on me, but the crease in his forehead didn’t disappear. “Margot.”

“Hey.” I tried again, a little more firmly. “Uh… surprise to see you home.”

He grunted, scribbling something down, not looking at me again. Mom didn’t react at all. She just… existed. The silence was thick, like it had weight, like it could pull the air out of the room if you weren’t careful.

I perched on the edge of the dining table, my tray of homework and notebooks still in my backpack. “School was… eventful today.” I said, trying to keep my voice light, but the memory of Nathan and Simon at lunch made it hard. “There was… an incident.”

Dad finally looked up, his pen pausing mid-scribble. “What kind of incident? What did you do now?” His tone sharpened like a knife, and I knew right away I’d hit the wrong button.

I told him about Nathan appearing at lunch, about Simon running his mouth like an i***t, about the tension, not about the matebond, but I gave him the gist of the confrontation.

Dad slammed his pen down. Hard. Papers jumped in all directions. “What did you say to him?”

I swallowed, feeling a prick of guilt and adrenaline mix in my stomach. “I… stood up for myself.” I said carefully. “He…he…he wasn’t threatening anyone, really. I just…”

Dad stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor like an alarm bell. “You spoke back to him?” His voice was sharp now, and his eyes were darker than I’d ever seen in the sunlight that poured in through the kitchen windows.

“Yes!” I snapped, because apparently diplomacy was out the window now. “He came at Simon, Simon was saying crap about him, and I just…”

“Enough!” Dad barked. He snatched his coat from the back of the chair, muttering under his breath as he stormed out of the house without so much as a goodbye.

The front door slammed behind him.

Mom’s head tilted slightly, like she was studying the room for damage, and then she slowly rose from the couch. Without a word, she went upstairs to her bedroom and closed the door with a soft click that sounded louder than anything else in the house.

I sank onto the couch, heart hammering and stomach twisting in that familiar mix of frustration, fear, and disbelief. One minute, Dad was here…pencil in hand, like he had everything under control…and the next he was gone, leaving the house colder than it had been before.

I reached for my backpack, dragging out my notebooks and textbooks, pretending I had the motivation to tackle geometry and English essays like a good student. But my brain wasn’t cooperating. I couldn’t stop thinking about everything at school. The pull in my chest, the tension in the cafeteria, Nathan’s eyes on me. The matebond feeling refused to let me think about anything else.

I rubbed my temples and tried to focus on my finals. They were coming up soon, and if I didn’t pass, I wouldn’t graduate. That thought alone made the world feel heavy. Every algebra equation, every historical date, every chemical formula I tried to memorize slipped through my mind like sand in a sieve.

Then, of course, the usual home responsibilities I couldn’t ignore crowded in. Mom and Dad’s silent war, the house that seemed to grow messier every day, the way I had to be the mediator, the neutral party, the invisible referee between two parents who refused to speak. I loved them both, but some days I wasn’t sure I even recognized them. And some days I wasn’t sure I recognized myself.

The afternoon sun faded as I tried to cram everything into my brain. Pencil tapping, pages flipping, every sound in the house magnified in the silence. I tried to tell myself I should just focus, that Nathan could wait, that finals could wait, but the pull didn’t care about my priorities.

It was relentless. Subtle. Burning and whispering.

By the time the front door opened again, the house felt like a pressure cooker. Dad walked in, coat thrown carelessly over his shoulder, face tight and red around the eyes. He didn’t greet me, didn’t look at me, didn’t even hang up his keys properly.

“I heard about today.” He said flatly, voice like concrete. “And the way you spoke to Nathan…Margot, do you understand what you’ve done?”

“Yes.” I said, my voice quiet but steady. “I know exactly what I did. And I don’t regret it.”

He froze, like I had slapped him, then ran a hand down his face. “Do you realize, he’s tenth in line to be alpha of his own pack. He’s never going to see that title. He’s not just some school brat. He’s dangerous. And you… you just provoked him. Don’t you understand? He’s trying to take over another pack, and if he succeeds…” His words trailed off, leaving an unspoken threat hanging in the air.

I swallowed, chest tight. “I understand.” I said. And I did, in a way that made my stomach twist. I knew exactly what I was doing, even if my body betrayed me every time I thought of him.

Dad didn’t respond. He just muttered something about needing air and went to the kitchen, slamming cabinets as he passed. The sound made me flinch. I wanted to say something smart, something to defuse the tension…but the right words weren’t there. None of the words I had ever used worked here.

I went to my room with my homework, trying to drown the tension in algebra and vocabulary tests. I stared at my notes, pencils scribbling, but my thoughts kept drifting. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Nathan’s face, felt that pull, that tug at something I couldn’t name. It was maddening. Distracting. Dangerous.

I tried to remind myself who he was. A rival alpha’s son, tenth in line for power, a man whose ambitions could destroy packs and lives alike. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling. The pull wasn’t just about danger. It wasn’t just about instinct. It was… more.

The house was quiet again, the kind of quiet that made your ears ring and your mind spin. Somewhere downstairs, the faint sound of Mom closing doors, muttering to herself, punctuated the silence.

I flipped open my notebook and tried to focus, tried to make the math problems add up, tried to make the dates stick…but Nathan’s face wouldn’t leave me. The way he moved, the faint curl of amusement in his expression when I shot back with my smart-ass mouth… that pull, that energy, it was imprinted into me now.

I could feel it in my chest, like a heartbeat separate from my own. It was confusing, frustrating, and, if I was honest, kind of thrilling. But thrilling in the way you feel when standing on the edge of a cliff. Not because you want to jump, but because you know falling is inevitable.

The clock ticked, sunlight fading to the dull gold of evening. Shadows stretched across my room, long and sharp against the walls. My pencil hovered above the page, unsteady. I wasn’t thinking about finals anymore. I wasn’t thinking about my parents.

I was thinking about him.

And then there was a sound that made my heart hitch. A soft, deliberate knock on my bedroom window. Slow and controlled.

I froze, pencil clattering to the floor.

No one knocks at my window. Not at this hour. Not even Felix.

I glanced toward it, pulse hammering, stomach knotting with something I couldn’t name. The pull surged again, stronger this time, tugging at me like a thread I couldn’t resist.

And just like that, I knew, I wasn’t imagining it.

Someone was outside. And it wasn’t anyone I could ignore.