The Mate Who Calls The Moon....
The room had grown too quiet.
Andrea stood on the edge of the map room, his arms folded, eyes locked on the cracked screen of the tracker console that had failed him once again.
It had been three days.
Three days since she disappeared before his eyes.
Three days since his wolf started howling without rest.
Three days of no sleep, no real food, just rage—raw and coiled inside him like a beast with broken chains.
Andrea had found out about her being a Moonblood from the pack's witch.
Something he couldn't comprehend and probably realize is the cause of her disappearance.
"She can't just vanish," he muttered under his breath, his voice low and sharp.
Drew was pacing behind him. "The witches cloaked the trail. No magical signature left behind. No blood. No scent. Like they planned this long before the summit."
Andrea's eyes flicked upward. "Then we find who helped them plan."
He shoved a thick dossier across the table—files, photographs, surveillance captures from the summit, every person who attended.
He had memorized them all.
His Beta hesitated. "You know who you're about to accuse."
Andrea didn't look away. "I know."
"Natasha's family has ties to the Seers' Guild. To vampire diplomats in France. If you make this accusation—"
"I don't care," Andrea snarled. "She probably knows. Or she's part of it. Or both."
His wolf surged, snapping inside his chest. He gritted his teeth.
The feeling hadn't stopped since the moment Amelia vanished.
It was more than the broken bond.
It was wrongness. Something in the world had twisted off its axis the second she was gone.
His mate.
His.
And someone had dared touch her.
His claws slipped out before he could stop them, curling into the edge of the table with a loud crack.
Drew remained silent.
After a beat, Andrea took a slow breath and retracted them. "Find me the name of every vampire associated with black-veil magic in the last decade. I want witch names too. Anyone who's dealt in Moonblood texts."
Drew's head snapped up. "So you believe it?"
Andrea's jaw clenched. "Reia already revealed that she might be one"
"And have you thought about what if she isn't and the also what you will do if she is one not to even talk of the pack reaction to the probability of their Luna being one?"
Andrea turned away, staring out the window where the forest stretched beyond the cliff. His voice was a whisper.
"Then we protect her. Even if it means going to war."
Later that Night…
Natasha waited for him outside the war chamber. Arms folded. Dressed like the perfect Luna.
Andrea didn't stop.
"We need to talk," she snapped.
"No, we don't."
"You're making a mistake," she said, stepping in front of him. "The whole pack sees it. Your obsession with a human. One you don't even know."
Andrea growled. "She's my mate."
"And I'm your fiancée."
"Not anymore."
Natasha flinched like he'd struck her.
Andrea continued. "The engagement was political. You and I both know it meant nothing. I never wanted it. I only accepted it for the pack. But the moment I met her…"
He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
Natasha's lips curled. "You're willing to throw away everything? Your seat? The pack's stability?"
"I'm not throwing anything away. I'm fighting for what was meant to be mine."
She stepped closer, eyes burning. "Do you know what happens when a human becomes a Luna to a pack? They bring war. They curse packs, Andrea. We leave them out of our realm for a reason. She's dangerous."
Andrea's voice dropped into something cold and lethal. "So am I."
He walked past her without looking back.
Two Days Later…
Andrea stood in front of Amelia's hospital file. Not the new one—her real one.
Her original records, sealed, encrypted. He'd gone to a rogue witch who owed him a favor, forced open the veil that had been wrapped around her identity.
The truth hit like a spear to the chest.
Born under a blue moon eclipse.
No father listed.
Her blood type—unidentifiable, inconsistent in every test.
One report noted accelerated healing from a childhood wound.
Another noted her inability to get sick. Even rare diseases she'd been exposed to left her untouched.
She had always been different.
And someone—probably her mother—had hidden that truth well.
Andrea closed the file, heart racing. "She didn't know," he whispered. "She had no idea."
A knock came at the door.
It wasn't Drew.
It was Reina, the pack's medic and healer.
"You need to come. Now," she said, pale. "Something's… happening."
Border Patrol—Eastern Edge
Andrea arrived in time to see two warriors crouched over a body.
A girl.
Her hair was tangled, her clothes torn, but her skin—unmarked.
Andrea's heart stopped.
Even before he saw her face, the scent hit him like lightning.
Earth and storm. Wildflowers in winter. His mate.
He pushed past the guards, dropping to his knees beside her.
"Amelia," he breathed.
Her lips trembled.
And then she whispered, "Help."
His wolf roared with such force that Andrea nearly lost control.
The guards backed away in fear, sensing the Alpha's fury and pain colliding in the air.
He lifted her gently into his arms.
She was burning and freezing all at once.
But most alarming—her scent had changed.
Not fully human. Not fully wolf.
Something… other.
Andrea didn't need confirmation.
She was Moonblood.
And his.
He carried her to the pack infirmary, every step trembling with rage and relief.
Reina and the healers worked in silence, in awe of how her skin stitched together on its own.
Andrea never left her side.
He watched every breath she took, as if afraid she'd vanish again.
He didn't sleep.
He couldn't.
His wolf wouldn't let him.
She had survived.
Whatever those monsters did to her, she had fought it—and won.
But he could feel it beneath her skin.
The shift.
The war inside her blood.
On the third night, he stood on the balcony of her hospital room, the stars cold and sharp above the forest.
His wolf paced inside him, restless.
"She's ours," it growled. "Ours to protect. Ours to love."
Andrea rubbed his face with shaking hands. "She's terrified. She doesn't want this."
"She needs us."
"I don't want to break her," he whispered.
"You'll make her stronger," the wolf snapped. "We are stronger—because of her."
Andrea's chest ached with how much he wanted to believe that.
When Amelia Woke
He was there.
Of course he was.
Her eyes fluttered open, and the moment she looked at him, he knew it all over again.
The mate bond surged like a second heartbeat.
Her lips were cracked. Her voice barely a whisper.
She asked questions to which he didn't hesitate on giving answers.
And that was the moment the world shifted again.
Not because he found her.
But because he knew.
He wouldn't survive losing her again.
The Council of Elders convened within the next two days.
Andrea stood before them, defiant.
"She's a Moonblood," one of them hissed. "You've brought a weapon into our midst."
Andrea met every stare. "I brought home my mate."
"She's a danger."
"She's a miracle."
"The prophecy—"
"Will not decide her fate. She will."
And with those words, the pack's path diverged.
Some followed.
Some questioned.
But no one could deny what they saw when they looked at her—light inside darkness. Strength forged by blood and fire.
****
Andrea watched her from the shadows as she took her first steps outside the infirmary. She walked slowly, uncertain—but upright.
The mark on her wrist shimmered in the moonlight.
And for the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to hope.
Because she hadn't broken.
She was just beginning to become.
And if the world dared to come for her again—
They'd have to go through him first.