Haven't Seen The Light In A While

Chapter Thirty-Two

Melody

A Few Days Later

I wake to soft, golden morning light filtering through the curtains. My body aches in familiar ways—muscles stiff from too many restless nights—but my mind feels... steadier. It's not whole, not "fixed," but at least it's not hanging by shards anymore.

I sit up slowly, pulling the blanket around my shoulders. The room is quiet except for soft snores and the occasional rustle of blankets. My mates are still asleep—Vince is on one side, Rory is on the other, and Sam is curled up against Rory. Odin had returned to sleeping in his room, away from me.

I just watched them momentarily, my heart stuttering with fear and guilt and something softer—relief that they're still here—that I still am.

I carefully slide out of bed and pad across the floor to the window. Outside, the pack grounds bustle in morning light—members headed to chores, laughter drifting faintly through the glass. It feels normal, ordinary, almost peaceful.

Almost.

My power still scares me. Odin especially frightens me now; I can feel the old fire rising in my chest with one wrong word or careless hand on his shoulder. Jealousy heightens to the very top.

I swallow and turn back toward the bed. Vince stirs first, lifting his head when he sees me. He offers a small, sleepy smile.

"Morning," he says quietly.

I nod and turn away, walking toward the bathroom. My breath catches as I brush past Rory's arm draped over the edge of the mattress. I tense, muscles coiling, and Rory's sleepy eyes flick open.

"Hey," he whispers. "You okay?"

"Fine," I murmur, and keep going.

Later, we're all in the living room. I'm perched on the arm of the couch, knees drawn up, hoodie pulled tight around me. Vince and Sam sit close, sharing coffee and plans for the day. Rory's showing me a video on his phone. It's small, domestic, soothing in its banality.

Odin sits in a chair across the room, reading a book. I glance at him, my stomach twisting, then back at Rory's phone, focusing on the screen like my life depends on it.

Just then, one of the newer of age betas, Cara, steps inside. She's holding a basket of freshly baked rolls and smiling at me, innocently and kindly.

"Good morning, Luna," she says, moving closer to set the basket on the table. Then she turns politely to Odin. "Morning, Odin. Brought you breakfast like you asked?"

My body slams forward, instincts roaring. I stand in a blur, voice clipped and cold.

"Don't—don't speak to him." My hand jitters at my side. "Just... just put it down and go."

Cara's smile falters. "I—okay. I'll—" She lowers the basket and steps back, confused and hurt in her eyes.

Odin's head snaps up from his book. "Mel?" His voice is gentle, concerned. "It's fine, Cara. Thank you."

But I can't let it go. I stride across the room so fast I nearly trip, hand hovering close to Odin's chair as if to protect him, even though he's never needed that from me before.

"Don't," I hiss, voice low and hard. "Don't speak to him. Don't look at him. Don't touch him."

Cara's eyes brim with tears as she scrambles out of the room, muttering apologies. Rory and Sam exchange a quick look. Vince's jaw clenches.

I feel that power surge humming beneath my skin, the ancient fire that terrifies me now curdling into something sharp and protective.

Odin closes his book, setting it aside. His face is sad, but steady. He doesn't flinch.