Bound by the Moon

Chapter 23

The sun had barely risen over the horizon when Astrid stormed through the packhouse, her body trembling with an energy she couldn't quite explain. The events of the sparring match with Bran replayed in her mind, each moment sharper than the last, each second a reminder of the raw, uncontrollable power that had surged through her. She had felt it the moment her hands locked around Bran's throat—something primal, something beyond her understanding.

She was stronger than she should have been. Stronger than a wolf with her status—a bound wolf—could ever hope to be.

The pack's eyes had been on her since she arrived, suspicious, wary of the outsider in their midst. But after this morning, the whispers had turned into something darker—fear. She could feel it, like a ripple spreading through the pack. They had seen something in her they couldn't explain, something that defied the natural order of their world.

Astrid's heart pounded as she climbed the stairs to her room, her knuckles white as she gripped the railing. Her thoughts raced, tangling into knots she couldn't untangle. She wasn't supposed to have that kind of strength. She wasn't supposed to be able to overpower someone like Bran, someone who had trained his entire life to be a warrior. And yet, she had lifted him off the ground like he weighed nothing, her fingers tightening around his throat until the life drained from his eyes.

It wasn't normal.

She reached her room, slammed the door shut behind her, and collapsed against it. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest tight as if the air had been stolen from her lungs. She pressed her hands against her face, trying to calm the storm that raged inside her, but the memory of Bran's terrified expression wouldn't leave her.

What had she become?

Hours Later

Astrid had stayed hidden in her room for hours, avoiding the inevitable confrontation that would come. She could feel the tension brewing outside, feel the pack's unease like a thick fog that clung to her skin. She didn't want to face them. Not yet. Not until she could figure out what was happening to her.

The knock on her door came just after noon, sharp and insistent. She knew who it was before she opened it. Lucien.

"Astrid, we need to talk."

His voice was low, steady, but there was an edge to it that sent a chill down her spine. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the doorknob. She didn't want to talk. Not now. Not when she didn't have any answers.

But she knew Lucien wouldn't leave until she faced him.

With a deep breath, she opened the door.

Lucien stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his eyes dark and unreadable. His presence filled the room, a reminder of the power he held as the Beta of the pack, but there was something else in his gaze—something that looked a lot like fear.

Astrid swallowed hard. "What do you want?"

Lucien stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He didn't speak for a long moment, his eyes studying her as if he were searching for something. Finally, he sighed, the tension in his shoulders visible.

"What happened this morning?"

Astrid's stomach tightened. She had been dreading this question. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "It just... happened."

Lucien's jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. "That's not good enough, Astrid. You shouldn't be able to do what you did to Bran. You shouldn't have that kind of power."