Mate Me in Moonlight

Chapter 128

POV: Adeline

Luca brought me coffee.

I was in the archives—what passed for archives in Willow Ridge, anyway. Really just a room in the main house where we kept records, maps, patrol logs. I'd been updating the training schedules, making notes on the pups' progress, when I heard footsteps in the hallway.

Heavy. Deliberate. Beta footsteps.

Then Luca appeared in the doorway, and in his hand was a mug. Steam rising from it. The smell of coffee—strong and dark, the way I liked it—filling the small room.

He set it down on the desk beside me without a word.

I stared at the mug. Then at him.

"Are you dying?" I asked.

"Shut up," he said flatly.

But he didn't leave. He stood there in the doorway, arms crossed, that familiar scowl on his face. Except it wasn't quite the same scowl. It was softer somehow. Less sharp-edged.

I picked up the mug, cradling the warmth between my palms. The coffee was perfect—exactly the right temperature, exactly the right strength. Which meant he'd paid attention. Which meant this wasn't random.

"Thank you," I said carefully, not sure what else to say.

Luca grunted. Still didn't leave.

The silence stretched between us, but it wasn't hostile. Just... heavy. Like there was something that needed to be said and neither of us quite knew how to start.

Finally, he spoke. "I never apologized."

I looked up sharply. "For what?"

"For doubting you at the start." His jaw worked, like the words were being dragged out of him against his will. "You were right. I was wrong."

Of all the things I'd expected to hear from Luca—blunt observations, tactical assessments, maybe another complaint about patrol schedules—an apology wasn't on the list.

"You were protecting your pack," I said, setting the mug down. "I understood."

"Still." He shifted his weight, uncomfortable but determined. "I should have seen you clearer. Should have trusted Aiden's judgment. Should have..." He made a frustrated gesture. "I made it harder than it needed to be."

I thought back to those early days. The suspicion in his eyes whenever I walked into a room. The way he'd questioned my every suggestion, challenged my every move. The tests he'd put me through—subtle and not-so-subtle—to see if I'd break.

It had hurt. But I'd understood it. He was Beta. His job was to protect the pack, even from threats that came gift-wrapped in wounded flesh and desperate eyes.

"You did what Betas do," I told him. "You kept your pack safe. I never blamed you for that."

"Well, you should have." His scowl deepened. "I was an ass."

"Yes," I agreed mildly. "You were."

He blinked, surprised. Then something that might have been a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. "You're not supposed to agree that fast."

"I'm just being honest."

"Fair enough." He uncrossed his arms, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Point is, I was wrong about you. You're pack. You've been pack since the moment you walked through those gates, even if I was too stubborn to see it."

The words settled warm in my chest, right next to where the coffee was spreading heat through my system.

Pack.

I'd heard it before. From Aiden. From Freya. From Elara and others. But hearing it from Luca—blunt, suspicious, protective Luca—meant something different. It meant I'd passed the hardest test. Earned the trust of the wolf least likely to give it.

"Family now," I said quietly.

He looked at me for a long moment. Then nodded once, sharp and certain. "Family."

The word hung between us, surprisingly comfortable despite how foreign it should have felt coming from him. But that's what we were, wasn't it? Not just pack. Family. The kind you chose. The kind you built through shared battles and stubborn loyalty and refusing to abandon each other when things got hard.

I thought of all the times Luca had stood at Aiden's left side while I stood at his right. The three of us forming the core of Willow Ridge's leadership. How we'd learned to work together, to read each other, to trust without question when it mattered most.

How Luca had stopped questioning my tactical suggestions and started building on them. How he'd stood with me against Ronan's wolves, protecting my blind spots without being asked. How he'd helped me up after the final battle, his grip steady and sure.

We were family. Made, not born. Forged in combat and trust and the slow accumulation of moments that proved we'd die for each other if it came to that.

"Don't make it weird," Luca added, his scowl returning in full force.

Too late for that. It was already weird. In the best possible way.

"Wouldn't dream of it," I said, picking up the coffee mug again.

He grunted, apparently satisfied, and turned to leave.

"Luca?"

He paused in the doorway, glancing back.

"The coffee's perfect. Thank you."

Another grunt. But his eyes were softer than his voice. "You looked like you needed it. Those pups are exhausting."

"They are," I agreed. "But worth it."

"Yeah." He nodded once more. "They are."

Then he was gone, his footsteps receding down the hallway, leaving me alone with my coffee and my training notes and a warmth that had nothing to do with the drink in my hands.

Family now.

I'd lost my family at Ash Hollow. Watched them burn. Carried their ghosts with me through five rejections and countless territories. I'd thought family was something you were born into, something that could be taken away in a single night of fire and screaming.

But maybe I'd been wrong.

Maybe family was also something you built. Slowly, carefully, through shared struggles and stubborn loyalty. Through coffee delivered without being asked. Through apologies that cost more than they should because pride was hard to swallow.

Through a Beta who'd doubted you learning to call you family.

I took another sip of coffee. It was still perfect. Still exactly right.

Outside, I heard the sounds of pack life—voices calling to each other, the distant laughter of pups, the rustle of wolves moving through the territory. All the small sounds that added up to home.

Luca would never be warm and fuzzy. He'd always be blunt and gruff and quick to point out problems. But he'd stand beside me without hesitation. Protect my back without question. Bring me coffee when I needed it.

That was family too.

Different from what I'd had at Ash Hollow, but no less real. No less valuable.

I returned to my training notes, but the words on the page kept blurring. I was smiling. Just a little. Just enough.

It was weird. In the best way.

Family.