The Snow Wolf's Mate

Split by the Moon:

[POV: Cole]

The moon looked broken tonight.

I sat at the edge of the bank, elbows resting on my knees, hands clasped loosely in front of me, just staring at it.

This place has always been quiet. Hidden. It was Aria’s place more than mine. She used to come here when everything became too much—after Dayana humiliated her in training, or when our instructors ignored her in favor of “the better twin.”

I’d find her sitting on this very rock, legs tucked under her, sketching in that worn little notebook she guarded like it held her soul.

Sometimes she’d smile when she saw me. Most times, she didn’t say a word. But her presence had always been... peaceful. Steady.

Goddess, I missed that.

I let out a long breath and tilted my head back to the sky. The stars were clear, cold. Unforgiving.

Much like the thoughts in my head.

I don’t even know how I ended up here. My feet just... moved. One step, then another, then another, until I found myself miles from the packhouse, swallowed by trees and silence. And guilt.

A year older than Aria and Dayana, and I’d spent most of my life entangled in theirs. Our families were close—our ranks even closer. My father, the Beta. Their father, the Alpha.

I was always told I belonged with Dayana.

“Strong should marry strong,” my father used to say. “That girl’s going to be Luna. You make yourself useful.”

He said it like it was strategy, like Dayana was a piece on the board and I was just the lucky pawn she needed.

And Aria was barely acknowledged. Quiet. Forgettable, in their eyes. But not in mine.

Even when I was just a boy, I saw her differently. There was something in the way she held herself—not proud, not loud, but with quiet defiance. Like even when the world told her she wasn’t enough, she stood there anyway.

I liked being near her. I liked the way she made me feel... human.

And still, I never defended her. Not really. Not the way I should have.

Because defending Aria meant going against Dayana. Against the pack. Against the image carved out for me by generations of wolves who believed power came from dominance, not compassion.

Back then, I wasn’t brave enough to pay that price.

“You still aren’t,” a voice hissed in my mind.

I stiffened. My hands clenched.

Rau. My wolf.

“Enough with the pathetic self-pity,” he snarled. “You finally did what you should’ve done a long time ago.”

I stayed silent, jaw tight.

“You looked like a fool,” Rau sneered. “Crawling after that miserable little weakling. Do you even remember the time Dayana—the only one with real mercy—tried to end her sister’s suffering? Tossed her into the swamp with her hands tied behind her back?”

A sharp jolt ran through me, like someone had shoved ice into my spine.

Of course I remembered.

I remembered Aria, soaked and shivering, mud clinging to her skin, her eyes wide with confusion and terror. I remembered leaping into the muck after her, cutting the ropes from her wrists with a rock, dragging her back to solid ground with her limp body slung over my shoulder.

She never asked why Dayana had done it. And I never had the courage to tell her that Dayana had called it mercy.

“You reeked for days after that, " Rau growled. “Even I couldn’t stand the stench. You should’ve left her there. That’s what Dayana was trying to do—end her quietly. A favor. But you—”

“I know what I did,” I muttered aloud.

“Do you?” he snarled. “You chose wrong. Again and again. You thought kindness made you noble. All it did was make you weak.”

My fingernails bit into the heels of my palms.

It was Rau’s voice I’d listened to the night I gave in. The night I stopped wondering and just let Dayana consume me. Her fire. Her ambition. Her hunger. She made my wolf burn, and Rau howled for her.

She made us feel powerful. But Aria made me feel... seen.

There’s a difference.

I ran a hand over my face, suddenly exhausted. “Why do you hate her so much?”

“Because she’s everything I refused for us to be,” Rau hissed. “Soft. Sentimental. Small. She’s the runt you tried to protect instead of devour. And in our world, Cole, the weak either serve or die.”

“I don’t believe that,” I said quietly.

“I don’t care what you believe.” His voice sharpened. “I care about survival. And I won’t let you drag us down with your pathetic regrets.”

I shook my head, trying to drown him out.

But his last words echoed anyway—so full of menace it made something in me flinch.

“The strong always devour the weak, Cole. That’s the law of our kind. And I won’t be the one getting devoured.”

I stared at the water again, watching the moon break into a thousand fragments across the surface.

Was that what I’d become?

A man torn in half—part honor, part monster? One half aching to protect, to love, to be more, and the other ready to burn anyone who slowed him down?

The worst part was—I didn’t know which half was winning anymore.