Cast Out by My Mate, Crowned by the Moon

Chapter 10 – The Line Between Packs

They chose a clearing just off the patrol trail—neutral enough that both sides could pretend we weren’t one bad word away from tearing each other apart.

Varyn’s warriors fanned out on one side, Wildcrest on the other. No one bared teeth, but hackles were up, shoulders tight, eyes sharp. The air felt like a bowstring.

Only Sorren and Varyn stepped into the narrow space between.

Sorren tipped his head toward a fallen log. “Sit, or do you prefer looming?”

“I’m fine,” Varyn said.

Suit yourself, his silence replied.

I stayed just behind Sorren’s right shoulder. Not hidden, not centered. A place that said I was with him, but not a prop in whatever this was going to be.

“State your concern,” Sorren said. “Short version.”

Varyn’s gaze flicked over Wildcrest’s wolves again, taking them in like pieces on a board. He stopped for a fraction of a second on Rian peeking around Vela’s hip, on Nyssa’s barely contained smirk, on Orric leaning in the doorway of his hut in the distance, arms crossed.

“You’ve become a refuge,” Varyn said. “Exiles. Broken bonds. Strays. Pups from packs that can’t handle their own trouble.”

Sorren’s jaw ticked. “We take in wolves who need a place. Not everyone dropped at our border is trash, whatever your Beta tells you.”

“I didn’t say trash,” Varyn snapped. “I said target.”

He gestured, sharp, toward the trees. “The packs that clung to Maelor’s promises didn’t all die on those mountains. Some scattered. Some regrouped. They’ve lost their priest, but not their thirst. You think they don’t talk about the ‘wild Luna’ who tore their network apart?”

My shoulders tightened. Whispers had been trickling in for months—rumors of wolves who spoke Maelor’s name like a warning or a prayer.

“That’s exactly why we built a network,” Sorren said. “So no one pack stands alone when trouble comes sniffing.”

“Your network is fragile,” Varyn said flatly. “And you—” his eyes cut to me, then back, “—are a beacon. A bright, screaming one.”

“Thanks?” I muttered.

Sorren didn’t look back, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

“This isn’t news,” he said. “Get to the part where you trespass on my land.”

Varyn’s shoulders squared. “You weakened Maelor’s hold. Good. We both want that finished. But the remnants are not just experimenting anymore. They’re recruiting. And they’re whispering that the only way to ‘purify’ what you did is to bleed you dry.”

He didn’t have to point to make it clear who he meant.

A low rumble moved through Wildcrest’s side, like distant thunder.

“So they come for her,” Fenrik growled. “Over our border.”

“Over mine, too,” Varyn said. “They’ve hit two of our outlying patrols. Left symbols carved into the bark. Twisted versions of her mark.” His gaze flicked to my chest, where there was no visible mark, only the ghost of where Varyn’s bond used to hum and the quieter, deeper warmth of what I’d become since.

A chill walked down my spine. “My… mark?”

“Not yours,” Sorren said, voice like steel. “Maelor’s idea of it.”

“They think if they break what you are, they can rebuild their god out of the pieces,” Varyn said. “So, yes. I came for you. To warn you.” A pause. “To offer an alliance. Reluctant, if you prefer it honest.”

The word hit the clearing like a thrown stone.

Wildcrest stiffened. Behind Varyn, one of his own warriors made a strangled sound. Alliances between packs weren’t unheard of, but between these two? After what he’d done?

Sorren folded his arms. “And what would such an alliance look like, exactly?”

“Information first,” Varyn said. “Shared patrols along the borders where we meet. Joint response if they hit either of us again.” He hesitated, then pushed on. “And if they come for Liora directly, we treat it as an attack on both packs.”

My heart punched against my ribs. “You’d fight for a wolf you cast out?”

Varyn’s eyes finally met mine, steady and unflinching. “I’d fight for the Luna who kept us alive despite my mistakes,” he said. “Whether she claims my pack or not.”

For a second, no one spoke.

Then Nyssa muttered, “Well. That’s one way to grovel without groveling.”

Sorren’s mouth twitched again. “You’re late to the party, Blackclaw,” he said. “We already intended to treat any attack on her as war.”

“I know what you intend,” Varyn said. “I’ve watched you grow this… thing. This Wildcrest. That’s why they’ll come here first.”

His gaze swept the camp again. The patched shelters. The mix of scents. The knot of children playing near the far edge, unaware of how history was trying to reshape itself a few strides away.

“You’ve built a light in the dark,” he said quietly. “Lights draw moths. And monsters.”

Sorren was silent a long beat.

“What do you think?” he asked me, and every head turned.

The old Liora—the one with a bond carved into her chest and a future scripted in someone else’s hand—would have looked to her Alpha for permission. For cues.

This Liora inhaled pine and smoke and child-laughter and wolf-breath and the steady, stubborn pulse of a pack that had stitched her back together without asking what it would get in return.

“I think,” I said slowly, “Maelor’s fanatics don’t care whose land they step on if they think they can get to me. I think Wildcrest can’t stand alone forever, no matter how sharp our teeth are. And I think…” I forced myself to look at Varyn, to see the lines carved deeper in his face, the regret that didn’t erase what he’d done but didn’t pretend it hadn’t happened either. “…I think we don’t beat a monster born from bad systems by going back to hiding in our separate corners.”

Sorren’s eyes warmed, faint but real.

“So that’s a yes?” Nyssa murmured.

“That’s a very careful yes,” I said. “With rules.”

Sorren inclined his head. “We’ll draft them. Together. Wildcrest doesn’t sign blank checks.”

“Nor does Blackclaw,” Varyn said. But his shoulders eased, just slightly. “For now, we’ll pull our scouts back to the clear border. You have my word we won’t cross it again uninvited.”

“See that you don’t,” Sorren said. “My wolves are getting used to you not being the enemy. I’d hate to throw that training away.”

It was almost a joke. Almost.

Varyn’s mouth twitched, the echo of something old and almost-boyish in him. “Liora,” he added, that softer note in his voice that used to undo me. “If you ever need—”

“I know where you are,” I said, cutting him off as gently as I could. “And I know how to howl.”

He swallowed, once, and nodded.

They withdrew in stages, Blackclaw wolves melting back into the trees until only their fading scent marked where they’d stood. The clearing felt oddly bigger without them.

Wildcrest exhaled properly this time.

“An alliance,” Fenrik said, half-disgusted, half-incredulous. “With that pompous—”

“Careful,” Orric said. “We just got his better side. No need to poke the worse one.”

Sorren turned to me fully, the last of the battle-tension easing from his shoulders. “You did well,” he said simply.

My chest warmed. “I didn’t swing any punches.”

“That was the point,” he said. “Besides, I’ve seen you fight. Let’s not traumatize the children more than necessary.”

Rian, who had clearly been eavesdropping from behind Vela’s leg, piped up, “I’m not traumatized. I want to see her punch an Alpha.”

“Maybe when you’re older,” I said dryly, ruffling his hair.

He beamed.

As the pack drifted back toward camp in small knots, Sorren fell into step beside me.

“You didn’t have to choose us so clearly,” he said, voice low enough that only I could hear.

“I didn’t,” I agreed. “But I wanted to.”

He glanced at me, something soft and fierce and a little stunned in his eyes.

“Liora Wolfscar,” he murmured, trying the new name on my old bones, “Luna of Wildcrest.”

The title didn’t scrape this time.

It settled. Warm. Right.

For the first time since I’d stepped over that border stone with nothing but a cheap blanket and a bleeding heart, the word Luna didn’t feel like something that could be ripped away.

It felt like something I’d grown into myself.