Two Alphas, One Luna

Chapter 5 – Legends and Teeth

Apparently “some truths” come with a waiting period.

My mother doesn’t crack that night, or the next morning. She sends me home with leftovers and a headache and a single warning: “Stay in the city. Stay away from the forest. And stay away from Corren when the moon is high.”

I ignore at least two of those immediately.

By the time my shift at the clinic ends, the waiting room is empty except for a twitchy tabby in a carrier and Talla sprawled in a plastic chair, boots kicked up, scrolling on her phone. She looks up as I lock the front door and flip the sign.

“Finally,” she says. “I was about to start diagnosing myself with abandonment issues.”

“You are abandonment issues,” I say, tugging my scrub top over my head to reveal the T‑shirt beneath. “What are you doing here?”

She pockets her phone. “Babysitting. Alpha’s orders. You’re not supposed to be walking home alone until we… clarify the situation.”

“Clarify.” I snort. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

Outside, the sky is smeared lavender and gray, the moon a pale coin behind thin cloud. My wolf shifts under my skin, restless.

We walk in companionable silence for half a block before Talla can’t hold it anymore.

“So,” she says. “Have the elders declared you an omen of doom yet, or are they still drafting the memo?”

“Vorian hasn’t shown his face,” I say. “Maelith is making that lemon‑sucking expression she saves for hurricanes and tax audits. Corren…” I trail off.

“Yeah,” she says softly. “Corren.”

We turn down a side street toward the pack house. Neon washes the cracked sidewalk, painting her hair with flickers of purple and blue. She shoves her hands into her jacket pockets.

“Wanna know the rumor mill’s latest?” she asks.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope. So. Double moon.” She says it like a curse and a punchline. “Most of the pups think it’s a story to scare them into staying away from the border. ‘If you stand too long between the trees and the towers, the moon will split you and you’ll go mad.’ That sort of thing.”

“Comforting.”

“Older wolves know a little more.” Her mouth tightens. “They remember when the circle almost broke us. When someone tried to bind two alphas through one heart. When it failed.”

The word circle lands heavy, too close to my mother’s story.

“They never tell us what actually happened,” I say. “Just that it was… bad.”

Talla glances sideways at me. “My mom says all she remembers is the screaming. And that afterward, the elders told everyone the lesson was clear: the moon chooses one alpha. One pack. Anything else is blasphemy and suicide.”

“Neat how the moral always seems to support the people already in charge,” I mutter.

She huffs. “Right? But the thing is, legends stick. You show up glowing like both territories at once, every old fear wakes up and starts doing push‑ups.”

We reach the narrow alley that leads to the pack house’s back entrance. The wards tingle over my skin as we step through. Somewhere inside, wolves laugh, dishes clatter, music hums low. Home, if I let it be.

“Fenrik says some of the younger patrols are excited,” Talla adds. “They think it’s… cool. Dangerous, but cool. A story happening in real time instead of something their grandparents whisper about when they’re drunk.”

“Great,” I say. “I’ve become a campfire tale.”

She stops me with a hand on my arm, all the humor draining from her eyes.

“Listen,” she says. “They can tell stories. They can gossip. They can panic. That’s their job. Yours is to breathe. Eat. Sleep. Don’t let them decide who you are before you do.”

My throat tightens. “You sound like Maelith.”

“Blasphemy.” She shudders theatrically. “I’m much prettier.”

Despite myself, I laugh.

As we head up the back stairs, voices drift from the common room. Someone says my name, followed by “both of them” and “bond” in a hissed undertone. Conversation cuts off when I appear at the landing. A dozen eyes flick to me, then away.

“Evening,” I say, dry. “Yes, I still exist. No, I did not eat anyone on the way here.”

A couple of younger wolves snicker. The tension thins by a hair. Talla bares her teeth in a grin.

“That’s right,” she says. “She only bites people who deserve it.”

Maelith’s voice floats from the hallway, cool as ever. “Good to know I should wear thicker sleeves.”

She steps into view, gaze sweeping over us. Her eyes linger on me.

“We have work to do, girl,” she says. “Stories won’t wait. And neither will the elders.”

For a heartbeat, my wolf wants to bolt. Back to the clinic, to my mother’s kitchen, anywhere but under all these eyes.

Then I breathe in city and pack and the faint, wild echo of forest still clinging to my skin.

Let them tell their legends.

If I’m going to be a story, I might as well decide how it ends.