Chapter 220

Ava

The door closed behind Leonard, leaving a deafening silence in its wake. Chris turned without a word and stalked away, his shoulders tense.

I stood there for a moment, watching him walk upstairs, torn between following him and giving him space. In the end, I decided to let him process this on his own—he could come to me when he was ready to talk, whenever that may be.

For the rest of the day, Chris didn’t emerge from the bedroom. Lunchtime passed, and then dinner, and still he didn’t come downstairs. Even then, as his meals went cold on the kitchen table, I didn’t call to him.

But as the hours went by, I could hear him pacing back and forth up there, the floorboards creaking under his restless steps. No doubt he was in a deep state of thought, his mind whirling endlessly as he tried to come up with solutions to this problem.

And so was mine.

I tried to busy myself with chores, cleaning, winemaking—anything to keep my mind off of Leonard’s condition and the heavy, leaden weight of worry that had settled in my chest. But nothing worked; every time I blinked, I could picture poor, dear Leonard slipping away from us in a hospital bed, Ophelia’s tears running in rivers down her cheeks…

It was too soon to be imagining things like that, I knew. But I couldn’t help myself.

As night fell, I found myself sitting by the fire pit in the garden, staring into the flames and wondering how things had gone so wrong so quickly. Just a few months ago, our pack had felt whole, complete.

And now, this black fungus had not only slipped into the walls of our Packhouse, but also into the lungs of our dearest friend.

All thanks to the work of one woman. Olivia.

I was so lost in bitter thought as I stared into the orange flames that I didn’t hear Chris approach. The sudden sensation of his cold hands on my shoulders startled me out of my trance, and I jerked my head up to find him standing behind me, his face pale and drawn despite the warm glow of the firelight.

“Hey,” I said softly, offering him a thin smile. “How are you holding up?”

Chris shook his head, his eyes distant, haunted. “I don’t know.” He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he stared at the fire. “I keep trying to think of a way to save him, but…”

“But Leonard won’t go to the human world for treatment,” I finished for him.

I had heard everything earlier, of course; the walls of the small cottage were thin. Thankfully, the Elders had left by the time Chris and Leonard had gone into my bedroom to talk. If they knew the truth…

Elise, at the very least, likely would have had a heart attack.

“He’s just so damn stubborn,” Chris muttered, running a hand through his hair.

I reached up and placed my hand over his, gently rubbing my thumb across his cool skin. My lips parted, but I couldn’t come up with any comforting words. So I remained silent.

Finally, he sank into the chair next to me, his shoulders slumped. He propped his forearms on his knees and continued to stare into the fire. “I just wish... if we could just get all five packs together, maybe we could save Leonard and Moonstone. With Crescent Moon’s wealth, we could accomplish so much.”

“But it’s not that simple,” I said, voicing the thought we were both having.

“No,” Chris huffed. “It’s not.”

We sat in silence for a while, the crackling of the fire the only sound between us. I chewed the inside of my cheek, thinking deeply about these past few weeks; we had been successful in getting three of the five packs on our side, and had created some valuable allies.

But without Crescent Moon, and especially now with the threat of Winston’s rage…

We were in a bit of a bind, to say the least.

Suddenly, Chris slid from his chair and dropped to his knees in front of me. For a moment, my breath caught, remembering all the times he had teased a marriage proposal. But this wasn’t that.

His face crumpled, and he buried it in my lap, his fingers bunching up around my skirt.

Sighing, I stroked his hair gently and leaned back to look up at the stars. It was a clear night, all things considered; cool and comfortable, with a slight breeze, and not a single cloud in the sky. The occasional white or yellow streak made its way across the constellations—an unexpected meteor shower.

I leaned my head back against the chair to look at the shooting stars, marveling at their beauty. In our culture, meteor showers were seen as messages from the Moon Goddess, little reminders of her constant presence.

If only…

As I watched another shooting star streaking across the sky, an idea struck me.

“Chris,” I said, tugging gently at his hair. “Come with me.”

He looked up, his eyes weary and rimmed with dark circles. “Where?”

“You’ll see,” I said, standing and pulling him to his feet.

Chris didn’t protest, following me obediently. We walked hand in hand through the quiet streets of Moonstone. The pack was asleep, blissfully unaware of the turmoil their Alpha was going through. Finally, we reached our destination: the Moon Goddess temple.

“Ava, what are we doing here?” Chris asked as we stepped inside the empty, dark temple.

I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I lit a candle and knelt at the altar beneath the Moon Goddess statue’s feet. After a moment’s hesitation, Chris joined me.

“I thought... maybe we could pray,” I said softly. “For Leonard.”

For a moment, Chris just blinked at me, and I thought that he would call this silly; that prayer meant nothing during times like this. That prayer wouldn’t make the black mass seep out of our friend’s lungs.

But to my surprise, Chris simply nodded. “Okay, but I... I don’t know the words.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I assured him. “Just speak from your heart. Or say nothing at all.”

I closed my eyes and began to pray, my voice barely above a whisper. “Moon Goddess, hear our plea. Our friend, our pack member, Leonard, is ill. Please, if you can find it in your heart, heal him. Guide us to a solution. Show us the way to save him and our pack.”

I could hear Chris murmuring beside me, his words stumbling but earnest. I scooched a little closer to him on my knees, letting our shoulders brush, a silent show of support.

For a little while, the temple was silent. Our voices faded, turning into a deep meditation.

It was then that I became aware of a sound—footsteps, soft and shuffling. My eyes flew open, and I saw a hunched figure hobbling away from the other side of the altar.

Silently, I nudged Chris, jutting my chin toward the retreating form. His eyes widened in recognition, and I knew we were having the same thought.

It was the same figure we had seen peddling the moonbite powder weeks ago.

Without a word, we both stood and began to follow, taking care to keep our distance. The figure moved slowly, sticking to the shadows. We ducked behind trees and buildings, careful not to be seen.

As we reached the edge of the village, I began to wonder where this mysterious figure was leading us—not to the forest this time, but rather away from it. Perhaps, unlike last time, our presence truly was unknown.

Eventually, the dirt path leading from the temple turned into the cobbled sidewalks of town, quaint little houses flanking the narrow streets. The figure stayed calmly moving ahead, striding with a purpose. Chris and I remained behind, watching carefully, not even daring to exchange a glance for fear of losing the hooded figure.

Then, suddenly, it veered toward a familiar house along a dimly lit side street. I immediately recognized the small hut at the end, with the flower boxes full of poppies beneath the small, round windows.

Elder Elise’s home.

Ducking behind a nearby tree, we watched in stunned silence as the figure approached the back door, opened it without knocking, and slipped inside.