The Luna is a Witch

Chapter 16: Claire

Draven’s confession hangs in the air.

“…because no one’s ever asked me before. Sure they asked for help when they need it, but no one, let alone a child, has ever asked me to STAY after a job is done.”

LJ’s jaw drops. My heart stumbles. Before either of us can respond, Carter shifts in my arms. I look down just in time to see him blink awake, bleary-eyed and glowing faintly. His curls are a mess. His cheeks are tear-stained. His tiny arms are limp and exhausted. But the moment he spots Draven—His little hands lift.

“Woof…” he mumbles, voice hoarse and tired. “Up.”

Draven goes still. I go still. Hell, even LJ goes still. Because Carter doesn’t ask just anyone to hold him. He barely lets daycare teachers touch him. He barely let Jordan hold him in the beginning. He barely lets anyone but me or LJ near him after a meltdown. But now? Carter reaches for Draven like he’s reaching for safety. Draven swallows hard. Takes a shaky step closer.

“Little one…” His voice breaks. “You sure?”

Carter’s eyes glaze sleepy-silver. “Up,” he repeats.

Draven hesitates—one second, two—and then slowly slides his arms under Carter, careful, gentle, almost reverent. Carter melts into him immediately, little hands clutching Draven’s shirt, head resting on his shoulder. Like he belongs there and something in Draven’s face… Changes. He looks like holding this tiny toddler is undoing him thread by thread.His eyes close for a moment, and when they open, they shine with a fierce, quiet devotion I’ve never seen in anyone.

Not for me.Not even for themselves. And that’s when I remeber—Today was Carter’s birthday. His second birthday. A day I tried so hard to make normal. Happy. Safe. Instead—He blew up a classroom. Met a goddess. Got hunted by a demon. Almost died. Watched me collapse and now is wrapped around an alpha wolf like he’s clinging to a lifeline. It’s too much. It’s all too much. I take a step back, chest tightening.

LJ notices first. “Claire…?”

I shake my head, holding up one trembling hand. “I…I just need a second.”

“Claire—”

“No,” I whisper, voice cracking, “I just—please—just a second.” My vision blurs at the edges. My lungs hurt. The apartment closes in around me. Draven tenses instantly, adjusting Carter so he can look at me without moving too fast.

“Claire?” he asks softly, far too softly for a half-shifted alpha holding a toddler. “What’s wrong?”

I laugh. It’s weak. Sharp. Half-hysterical.“What’s wrong?” I echo. “Draven… this morning was Carter’s birthday. I sang him a birthday song. I packed him a snack. I dropped him off at preschool. I was just a mom.” My hands shake.“And now—now he’s—he’s glowing, and bonding to wolves, and marked by a goddess, and almost died, and—”My voice breaks. “I just wanted him to have a normal birthday. First world problems, I know.”

The last word cracks like glass.Draven’s face softens in a way that makes my breath hitch. LJ’s eyes shine with tears. Carter lifts his sleepy head and touches Draven’s cheek, then mine. “Momma sad,” he whispers.

“I’m not—”I wipe my face quickly.“I’m not sad, baby. I’m—just—tired.”

Draven shifts Carter to one arm and steps closer—slowly, like he’s approaching a frightened deer. “Claire,” he murmurs, “sit down. Let me—”

“I can’t sit,” I whisper, “because if I sit, I will cry and scream and never stop.”

LJ moves in, looping her arm around my waist. “Hey,” she whispers, “then scream with me. Ugly cry. Let’s lose it together. I’ve already cried three times today.”

That almost makes me laugh. Almost. But Draven… He watches me with a look that is not pity, but understanding. He adjusts Carter, who instantly snuggles deeper into his chest. “Claire,” he says again, voice rough, “you held your son’s world together all day. You’re allowed to fall apart now.”

I sink onto the couch, burying my face in my hands, shaking as quiet sobs break free. LJ sits beside me. Draven sits across from me on the floor—silent, steady, protective. Carter reaches a tiny hand from Draven’s arms and pats my knee. “Momma,” he whispers, “woof here.”

And despite everything—destiny and goddess warnings and demons and the world tilting sideways—Draven says it too.

Soft. Steady. Truthful.

“I’m here.”