Bound by the Moon

Chapter 41

Astrid hadn't set foot on the territory of the Silverclaw Pack in months. It had been a prison to her once, a place where every breath she took felt stolen from a life she'd never be allowed to live. Now, as she and Lucien approached the dense forest that marked the border, that familiar feeling of suffocation returned, coiling around her like the ghost of a noose she had once escaped.

But this time, she wasn't alone.

Lucien walked beside her, his presence grounding her in the moment. His sharp eyes scanned their surroundings, missing nothing, always alert. He hadn't said much since they'd agreed to return, but the tension in his shoulders told her everything she needed to know. He was prepared for a fight—whether with the rogues or her old pack—and she appreciated his vigilance. If Marcus was right, the situation was far more dangerous than she had anticipated.

"How are you feeling?" Lucien's voice broke through her thoughts, low and calm, but she could hear the concern underneath.

Astrid took a deep breath, steadying herself. "Nervous," she admitted, her eyes on the dark treeline. "But ready."

Lucien nodded. "You don't have to do this alone."

"I know," she said, giving him a small, appreciative smile. "But it doesn't make going back any easier."

As they continued through the dense woods, a group of patrol warriors emerged, their gazes wary but respectful as they approached. They were Crescent Moon wolves, but their demeanor was vastly different from when Astrid had last known them. Gone were the arrogant glances, the air of superiority that Darius's pack used to carry. Now, there was fear behind their eyes—fear and exhaustion.

One of the patrol warriors stepped forward. "Alpha Lucien, Lady Astrid. We've been expecting you. Beta Marcus asked us to escort you to the packhouse."

Lucien's jaw tightened at the mention of Marcus. Astrid didn't miss the way his hand flexed slightly, as though he was already anticipating a confrontation. She placed her hand lightly on his arm, a silent reminder that they needed to keep their focus on the bigger problem: the rogues.

"Lead the way," Astrid said, her voice steady.

The patrol warrior nodded and motioned for them to follow.

As they walked, Astrid couldn't help but notice how much the pack's territory had changed. The trees were still tall and ancient, but there was an unnatural stillness to the forest now. It wasn't the peaceful kind of quiet, but the tense, oppressive silence that came when something dark lurked just out of sight. The pack was on edge, and that tension hummed through every blade of grass and every whisper of wind.

When they finally arrived at the packhouse, Astrid was struck by how different it felt. It was the same sprawling stone structure she remembered—sturdy, imposing, built to withstand any attack. But now, there was an air of desperation around it. The warriors posted at the entrances looked worn, their clothes torn and stained with the grime of endless patrols. The Crescent Moon Pack was under siege, and it showed.

As they stepped inside, Marcus was waiting for them. He stood in the large foyer, arms crossed over his chest, his face drawn with tension. He was still the same physically—tall, muscular, with sharp, calculating eyes—but there was something harder about him now, something crueler lurking beneath the surface.

"Astrid. Lucien." Marcus greeted them with a curt nod, his gaze lingering on Astrid a little too long for Lucien's liking. Astrid could feel the barely-contained fury radiating from Lucien beside her.

"Marcus," Astrid replied coldly, her posture stiffening. She hadn't forgotten who he was—what he was capable of. His presence here felt like a weight pressing down on her chest, a reminder of every time he had stood by while Darius and Kieran had crushed her spirit.