The place felt like a fortress, all towering walls and thick silence but there was something else beneath it. A strange warmth. Not from the torches on the walls or the low-burning sconces, but from the way everything was… alive. Clean. Cared for.
As Layla followed the guard down another hallway, her gaze flicked toward a painting on the wall of wolves under a full moon, howling not in fury, but in unity.
Then a sound broke the quiet: small feet pounding against the floor.
A child.
A little boy, no older than six, burst from a side corridor, racing across the hallway with a wide grin on his face and a wooden sword clutched in one hand.
"Noah!" a woman called, not far behind. Her voice was sharp but not angry, the type of call only a mother could master. "Come back here! You haven't finished your breakfast."
The boy giggled and ran faster, nearly brushing past Layla, who instinctively stopped to avoid him.
He didn't even look her way.
But the woman chasing after him paused for a split second when she saw the guards.
"Kieran," she said, smiling warmly at the one guiding Layla, "He's at it again." looking at him like one would do a lover.
Kieran, the usually stoic-faced guard cracked the barest smile and shook his head. "That sword's been glued to his hand for three days now."
"He thinks he's a warrior," she said, exasperated but fond.
Then she glanced briefly at Layla, curiosity in her eyes, not judgment before chasing after her son.
Layla blinked, a little stunned.
The Crescent Moon Pack wasn't what she expected. She had imagined brutality. Cold. Sharpness. Instead, she found calm, order and now, even laughter.
Her chest ached with the unfamiliar feeling that maybe… this place wasn't hell after all.
Maybe… just maybe… she was safe.
But then she remembered the Alpha waiting ahead.
And fear curled in her belly all over again.
The walk to the Alpha's office felt longer than it probably was.
Her bare feet padded against the cool floor, her fingers twitching at her sides. Every now and then, she stole glances at the guard, Kieran, but his expression was unreadable once again. Whatever warmth he'd shown the child and his mother had vanished like it had never been there.
They stopped in front of a tall set of double doors, carved with intricate wolf motifs and the symbol of the Crescent Moon, a half-moon slashed across with a claw. The doors loomed, heavy with silent authority.
Kieran knocked once, then pushed them open.
"Enter," came the voice, deep, crisp… but not from the Alpha.
Layla stepped inside, and her breath hitched.
The room wasn't what she expected.
There was a fire burning softly in a hearth against the far wall. A bookshelf lined the right side, stacked with books, documents, and maps. A large desk sat near the center, clean and organized, with papers neatly stacked in one corner. The Beta, Cael stood beside it tall, broad, with a cold expression and a presence that made her knees tremble.
But it wasn't him who unsettled her most, as expected.
It was the man standing behind him.
The one seated in the high-backed chair by the window.
The Alpha.
He didn't speak, like before.
He didn't even look directly at her, his gaze was fixed outside the window, watching the trees sway in the wind.
But the room shifted the moment she stepped in. As if he had drawn in her scent the way a predator does its prey.
Beta Cael turned to her and said,
"State your name."
Layla hesitated. "L–Layla." Confused as they had asked her this before.
"Pack?"
Her throat dried. "Nightfang." This too.
They both exchanged a look she couldn't decipher between themselves.
"How did you come to our borders?"
"I—" Her voice cracked. "I ran. I didn't mean to trespass. He tried to— I was just—"
"She was injured," Cael said, more to the Alpha than to her. "Mauled." Like he hadn't seen her wounds at the infirmary.
The Alpha finally turned his head slightly, his eyes sharp, unreadable. Still, he said nothing.
The Beta cleared his throat. "Our Alpha does not speak. You will speak to me."
Layla blinked. "Oh…"
"You were not followed?"
"No."
"You are not a spy?"
She flinched. "No!"
Silence.
The Alpha's eyes scanned her from head to toe. Not in judgment. Not even with suspicion.
Just… calculation. Quiet, thoughtful calculation.
The Beta nodded once. "Very well. You are no longer in immediate danger. But you are still under review."
Layla nodded quickly, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.
Kieran appeared again at the door. "She'll be assigned a room," he said.
The Beta turned back to the Alpha. The Alpha gave the slightest nod.
And with that, the meeting was over.
No accusations. No shouting.
Just cold, sharp protocol — and eyes that watched like they already knew her secrets.
As Layla turned to follow Kieran out, she cast one last glance over her shoulder.
The Alpha was watching her.
And though he hadn't said a word, Layla felt something pass between them.
Something she didn't yet understand.
They didn't say much on the way back.
Kieran simply nodded once toward the direction she should follow, and she obeyed, her eyes catching the curious stares of a few pack members as they passed through the halls. Her shoulders curled inward, her fingers tugging at the sleeves of the clothes the infirmary had given her.
Once they reached the familiar room — the one she had been recovering in — he opened the door and motioned her inside.
"You'll stay here until the main wing room is ready," he said, voice clipped but not unkind.
Layla blinked. "The… main wing?"
He gave a brief nod. "You were granted temporary quarters there. You'll be informed when it's ready."
She nodded quietly, stepping into the room as the door closed behind her with a soft thud.
Alone again.
She leaned against the door for a moment, letting out a shaky breath she didn't know she was holding. It felt… surreal. The meeting. The Alpha. That strange silence that held more weight than words. The way his eyes had looked at her like he saw through all her broken pieces.
She rubbed her arms, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the room.
The Crescent Moon pack was nothing like hers. It was quiet, structured, precise. There were no barked insults. No glares. No beatings.
Just protocol. Order.
And somehow… that was more terrifying.
By evening, there was another knock. This time, two female guards entered — not rough, not soft either, but respectful enough to not meet her eyes like she was beneath them.
"Your new room is ready," one of them said.
She didn't ask questions. She simply nodded and followed.
She followed the guards through the wide corridors, each step echoing softly beneath her. The main wing of the Crescent Moon Pack House was nothing short of majestic, high ceilings, glass chandeliers, and polished floors that gleamed under warm lights.
Back home, their buildings were just as grand, though styled differently, earthy stones, polished wood, open verandas. Their kitchens had stoves, ovens, and even refrigerators. They weren't primitive. They just held tightly to their values.
Phones, televisions, and the internet, those were forbidden. Technology that brought the outside world in was considered dangerous. "It corrupts the mind and weakens the wolf," the elders always said. If you wanted to learn something, you asked. If you wanted entertainment, you trained, hunted, or listened to stories by firelight.
So when she passed a group of teenagers lounging on a plush couch, their eyes glued to glowing rectangular devices in their hands, she slowed down in confusion. One of them tapped rapidly on it with their thumbs. Another was laughing at something on a screen mounted on the wall.
It was like stepping into a different dimension.
The guard walking beside her must've noticed the way her eyes widened, because he murmured, "Phones. TV. Nothing to fear."
She said nothing, just nodded slightly, her heart thudding. She wasn't scared not exactly, but it all felt so strange, so far from the quiet rules and closed-in world she came from.
They reached the new room and opened the door for her. It was warmer, richer, with a soft bed that looked untouched and clean clothes folded on a nearby chair.
"Make yourself comfortable," the guard said before closing the door behind her.
Layla stood in the middle of the room, absorbing it all. The silence. The space. The softness.
She didn't know how long she stood there before finally whispering to herself, "Just don't mess this up."
Not long after the guards left, a knock sounded on the door.
She tensed.
"You're wanted downstairs for dinner," came the voice of the same guard who had walked her to the room earlier. His tone was calm but firm, like everything else in this place — orderly.
Dinner? With who?
She hesitated for a moment, glancing at the clean clothes folded neatly on the chair. A simple pair of soft trousers and a long-sleeved shirt, both in a warm blue. They looked like they would actually fit her. She quickly changed out of her tattered clothes, careful of the soreness that still clung to her limbs.
By the time she opened the door, the guard was already waiting, back straight, eyes forward.
"This way," he said, and began walking.
The hallway outside was softly lit, casting golden shadows on the floor. Layla followed silently, her bare feet making no sound. The scent of warm food, herbs, spice, and roasted meat floated through the air the closer they got. Her stomach rumbled at the smell.
They descended a flight of stairs and turned into a larger corridor where voices and clinking cutlery echoed from beyond.
She didn't know who would be sitting at that table. She didn't know what kind of questions would be asked. But she knew one thing:
She couldn't afford to look weak.
As she stepped into the dining hall, all conversation ceased. Forks paused halfway to mouths, eyes shifted toward her, curious, and unreadable.
Her steps faltered.
A long rectangular table stretched down the middle of the room, filled with unfamiliar faces, men, women, a few teens all seated, all dressed neatly in different styles that reflects their individuality. The only sounds were the soft clinking of glasses and the slow thud of her own heartbeat in her ears.
She was guided to an empty seat near the end of the table.
She sat down quietly, lowering herself into the chair with as much grace as she could manage, trying not to let her hands tremble. The silence still lingered like a heavy fog.
Then—
"I know you! You were with my daddy!"
A small voice rang out, breaking the tension like a crack in glass.
She turned her head, startled.
A little boy — maybe five or six — stood beside her chair, grinning with the easy confidence only children had—Noah. His soft curls bounced as he pointed enthusiastically.
"And who is your daddy?" she asked, her voice barely steady. Fear still lingered beneath her skin, but she was grateful — deeply grateful — for his interruption.
He turned and pointed down the table.
"That's him!" he said proudly.
Kieran.
The same Kieran who had walked her to the Alpha's office, the same Kieran who had stood silent and unreadable beside the man who never spoke.
A few quiet chuckles rose around the table, and just like that, the stiffness in the room eased.
Layla let out a silent breath, shoulders lowering slightly as she gave Noah a faint smile.
Then the air changed — but not in the way she feared.
She tensed the moment she heard approaching footsteps and laughter echoing faintly down the hall. Her grip on the table edge tightened, heart pounding as the sound grew louder, clearer. Voices. Two male voices.
Her breath caught.
They're coming. The Alpha. And the Beta. She just knew it.
Her instincts screamed at her to shrink into herself, to disappear, but her legs refused to move.
Then they entered.
Laughing.
Not cruelly. Not with mockery. Just… playfully.
The Beta was smirking, a teasing glint in his eyes as he nudged the man beside him, tall, quiet, unmistakably powerful. The Alpha didn't laugh, but there was a ghost of a smile on his lips as he shoved the Beta back lightly in response. The air between them felt easy, familiar, almost like brothers.
Layla blinked, stunned.
This… wasn't what she expected.
The two men looked up and noticed her. Cael's eyes sparked with recognition, while the Alpha's gaze settled on her quietly, curiously, before he turned to greet others at the table with a respectful nod.
Layla exhaled slowly, the knot in her chest loosening, only slightly.
They're not what I thought, she realized.
But that didn't mean she was safe.
Dinner resumed, though quieter than before.
Plates clinked, murmurs floated through the air, and Layla sat stiffly with her eyes fixed on the bowl in front of her. She picked at the food, still feeling the weight of eyes lingering, curiosity buzzing like static around her. But no one said anything. No mockery. No whispers.
Noah had returned to his seat, grinning proudly like he'd just solved a great mystery.
Kieran caught her glance from across the table. He offered a small nod — polite, not pitying. She blinked, startled by the simple gesture of respect.
The Beta, Cael occasionally whispered into the Alpha's ear, who only nodded or replied with the slightest tilt of his head, eyes occasionally drifting to her — unreadable.
Layla's appetite slowly returned.
The food was warm. Rich. Real.
And for the first time in a long time, she wasn't afraid to take a second bite.