Mate Me in Moonlight

Chapter 6

POV: Adeline

By the time dawn reached the packhouse windows the next morning, I felt almost—dangerously—like I could breathe easy here.

I wasn’t sure when exactly that sensation had crept in, but I caught myself lingering, listening to the soft clatter of pots in the kitchen downstairs, the quiet laugh of a wolf greeting another, the hum of a home that wasn’t mine and shouldn’t feel so familiar. It unsettled me more than any threat ever had.

“You’re doing the thing again,” Freya said, brushing past me with a basket of laundry. “The thing where you look peaceful and then immediately panic about looking peaceful.”

“I’m not panicking,” I said.

“You are absolutely panicking. It’s adorable. Stop it.” She bumped her hip against mine. “Come downstairs. Breakfast. Community. Joy.”

I muttered something noncommittal and followed her anyway.

The moment we reached the bottom of the stairs, the atmosphere shifted.

Not drastically. Not with shouts or commotion. But with a quiet tightening — tension pulled through the room like an invisible thread.

Marcus stood near the doorway, dust streaking his clothes as if he’d run straight from the border. His face was grim. Wolves gathered around him in small clusters, voices hushed.

Freya’s cheer dimmed. “Oh. That’s not a good face.”

Before I could ask, the door swung open again and Luca stepped inside, breathing hard, his shirt damp with sweat. The moment wolves saw him, the murmur intensified.

“Aiden?” he called.

“In here,” Aiden answered, emerging from his office, posture rigid.

Luca crossed the room with a soldier’s precision and handed him a torn scrap of fabric — dark, burned at the edges.

Even from several paces away, I recognized the scent.

Iron. Smoke. Something cruel beneath it.

Ironclaw.

My stomach dropped.

Aiden wore the same expression I’d once seen on a commander walking through the aftermath of a battlefield — composed, unreadable, cold at the edges. “Where?”

“North border of Hollowshade,” Luca said. “Marcus and I were checking the trail when we found what was left of one of their markers.”

Marcus stepped forward. “It wasn’t an attack site. Not yet. But there were tracks. At least a dozen. Moving fast.”

Freya exhaled a soft curse beside me.

Aiden’s jaw tightened. “Inside their territory?”

“Just along the edge,” Luca replied. “Like they were scouting. Or looking for something.”

The implication landed heavy between them — Ironclaw moving this close meant danger. Intentional danger.

Freya shot me a quick glance, one that held too many questions, too much worry. I looked away.

Aiden turned, scanning the room until his gaze found mine.

“Adeline,” he said. “I need your insight.”

The attention of the room followed his line of sight.

My pulse kicked hard. “Me?”

“Yes,” he said, voice steady and matter-of-fact. “You know how they move. How they think. What scouting patterns they use. We don’t.”

Part of me wanted to shrink into the floorboards, disappear, pretend I hadn’t heard him. Another part — the wolf part — stepped forward eagerly, alert and ready to protect something that suddenly felt painfully precious.

I forced my feet to move.

The wolves parted slightly to let me through. Their expressions varied — curiosity, concern, and for a few, thinly veiled distrust.

I reached Aiden and Luca. Freya hovered at my shoulder like a protective shadow.

Aiden held out the burned scrap. “Do you recognize this?”

I didn’t have to touch it to know. “It’s theirs. They burn the edges of their markers to hide scent and confuse trackers. It keeps patrols guessing how many moved past.”

Luca frowned. “Is that usual for scouts?”

“No,” I said. “Scouts hide their numbers. Burned markers are used for intimidation. They want someone to find it.”

Aiden nodded slowly. “Why would they want to be seen?”

“To send a message,” I answered. My voice felt steady despite the cold crawling under my skin. “They don’t wander this far unless they’re planning something. Or… searching.”

“Searching for what?” Luca asked.

I swallowed. “For someone.”

The word fell like a stone. Eyes flicked toward me before quickly looking away again, as if the thought was too fragile or too sharp to examine too closely.

Aiden didn’t look away.

His voice remained calm. “What else did you see, Luca?”

“A few scattered tracks heading northeast,” Luca replied. “Could be deliberate. Could be misdirection. But they were too organized to be random.”

Aiden nodded once, thoughtful. “We’ll tighten the patrol grid. Double watches at dusk and dawn.”

Several wolves murmured agreement.

Then Aiden looked at me again. “Adeline. If you were leading their scouts, which direction would you take next?”

The question was rational. Simple. Tactical.

It still felt like a blade pressed gently to my sternum.

I didn’t want to be this useful to them. I didn’t want to explain Ironclaw patterns in a room full of wolves who already weren’t sure if my presence was protection or bait.

But I’d survived Ironclaw for a reason. And maybe this was it.

I exhaled slowly. “They’ll check the eastern ridge. It gives them a vantage point. If they want to watch your patrols, that’s where they’ll go.”

Luca stilled beside me. “That’s what I thought.”

Aiden turned toward him. “Take a team up there at dusk. I’ll join the second watch.”

“Understood,” Luca said.

Conversation resumed around the room — low, tense, urgent — but the air felt strange now, heavy with collective unease.

I stepped back, trying to fade into the background again, but several wolves looked at me with something like respect mixed with fear. Others looked like they didn’t know what to make of what I’d said.

One whispered, “She knew that too fast.”

Another murmured, “Ironclaw always leaves survivors for a reason.”

Freya bristled, ready to snap at them, but Aiden spoke first — quietly, firmly.

“She is not the threat,” he said. “She survived one.”

His voice silenced the room.

Heat coiled unsteadily under my ribs, equal parts gratitude and something far more dangerous.

The bond pulsed once, soft and insistent. I looked away, unable to meet his eyes with the weight of that certainty sitting between us.

***

As wolves dispersed to prepare, I moved toward the back hallway, needing space, air — distance from the stares and the lingering echo of Aiden’s voice in the center of my chest.

I didn’t get far.

Around the corner near the stairs, two warriors leaned close, speaking in low, urgent tones.

“I’m telling you,” one hissed, “this is connected. She shows up, and suddenly Ironclaw is at our borders?”

“You really think she didn’t lead them here?” the other whispered back.

“She could be a warning. Or a trap.”

“She’s a survivor,” the second murmured, softer.

“Or a liability,” the first countered. “And liabilities get us killed.”

The words landed harder than they should have. My chest tightened painfully.

I stepped back quietly, not wanting them to notice me, not wanting to hear any more.

Freya’s voice called faintly from the kitchen. “Adeline? Tea round two?”

I didn’t answer.

My wolf stirred inside me, restless and dissatisfied. They’re scared, she murmured. Fear talks. Fear lies.

“They’re not wrong,” I whispered internally, pressing my hands against my temples as if I could push the thought out. “Ironclaw is close. I don’t know what they want. I can’t drag all of these people into that.”

You didn’t drag anyone, she argued. You found shelter. You need shelter.

“I’m getting too comfortable,” I muttered. “I should leave. Soon. Before anything worse happens.”

My wolf snarled softly at that — a low, defensive rumble inside my mind. Stop running. We are tired of running.

“I’m protecting them,” I insisted.

You’re protecting fear, she snapped. Not them.

I gritted my teeth. “I am not staying here long enough to bury another pack.”

Silence stretched for a long moment.

Then my wolf whispered, fiercely gentle, You won’t bury them. You’ll stand with them. That is what terrifies you.

She was right. And I hated that she was right.