Chapter 10: Hollow Bonds, Hidden Threads
626 Words
The Blue Moon Pack was alive with celebration.
In the grand halls of the packhouse, music pulsed through the walls, bodies moved in sync to the beat, and laughter echoed into the night. The twins—Ethan and Damon—had thrown an exclusive pre-crowning party for the elite and popular. A wild, untamed gathering under moonlight and vanity.
They sat like royalty at the heart of it all, surrounded by the most beautiful she-wolves from across the territory—and beyond. Their return had sparked a frenzy. Everyone wanted a moment with the Blackwood twins.
Damon leaned against the leather couch, his muscular arm draped lazily around a she-wolf with scarlet lips and a barely-there dress. She giggled as he whispered something in her ear, eyes twinkling with mischief. Another girl leaned into his other side, tracing circles on his chest.
Ethan, on the other side of the room, was quieter but no less popular. His lips were locked with a foreign Alpha’s daughter, her moans muffled against his mouth. Another girl was waiting her turn, twirling her hair, watching with lustful envy.
The twins were indulging in everything—pleasure, power, attention.
And yet…
“They’re perfect,” one girl whispered dreamily from the crowd, sipping her drink. “But… why haven’t they met their mate yet?”
“Maybe it’s one of us,” another smirked, flipping her golden hair. “They’ll know at the crowning ceremony. It has to happen.”
“Unless the Moon Goddess forgot about them,” someone joked, drawing laughter.
But beneath the laughter… there was curiosity. Concern. Even a flicker of unease.
Because it wasn’t just that Ethan and Damon hadn’t found their mates.
It was that they had tried.
Since turning twenty-one—three years ago—their wolves had been ready. They’d traveled across oceans, visited the strongest allied packs, met countless high-ranking she-wolves.
And yet, not once… had their wolves stirred.
No spark.
No scent.
No pull.
No mate.
Damon stood now, excusing himself from the girls draped over him. He walked to the balcony, the night wind tousling his hair. His jaw tightened as he stared up at the moon, his silver eyes narrowed.
“Still nothing,” he muttered under his breath.
Behind him, Ethan appeared silently, two glasses in hand. He passed one to his brother, his gaze matching Damon’s.
“I know,” Ethan said flatly, before Damon could speak.
“She’s not here,” Damon said. “Not in the pack. Not in any of the packs we’ve visited.”
Ethan was quiet, swirling the liquid in his glass.
“What if…” Damon hesitated. “What if we’re not meant to have one?”
Ethan looked at him. “You don’t believe that.”
“I’m starting to,” Damon snapped, then sighed. “We’ve met everyone at the packhouse. Everyone. No reaction. Nothing.”
“There’s still the ceremony,” Ethan said quietly. “We’ll meet wolves from the outer villages. From the healer tents. The quiet ones.”
Damon snorted. “You think she’s been hiding in plain sight this whole time?”
Ethan didn’t answer.
But a strange look crossed his face.
He couldn’t explain it—but ever since they’d returned, there was a… pressure in his chest. Like his wolf was stirring. Watching. Waiting.
But for who?
And why now?
The sound of laughter and music swelled behind them. Damon drained his glass and tossed it over the edge.
“Let the ceremony come,” he muttered. “If she’s real, the Moon Goddess better make it damn clear.”
Ethan nodded once. But his golden eyes flickered with something unreadable.
Something restless.
Something that had been waiting for a long, long time.
- Writer
