Beneath the Alpha's Moon

Mai’s P.O.V.

"Mai." My father’s voice was firm, steady—a command wrapped in quiet authority. "You must calm down."

I stood there, chest heaving, my nails biting into my palms as I clenched my fists. The whispers in my head slithered through my mind like venomous snakes, hissing, laughing, taunting. I wanted to scream, to tear at the earth beneath me until I found Liam, until I had him back where he belonged—next to me.

But then, I felt it—my father’s hand on my shoulder. It wasn’t soft or gentle; it was grounding. A reminder.

"Do not lose control," he said, his voice low but laced with a warning. "You know what happens when you do."

I swallowed hard, forcing down the rage that boiled in my veins, and nodded.

My father turned to the gathered werewolves, their faces a mixture of fear and curiosity. "Everyone, go home," he ordered. "This is a very serious matter, and I will handle it with just as much seriousness."

Murmurs spread through the crowd, but no one dared challenge him. Not when he had that sharp, commanding look in his eyes—the kind that promised consequences.

"And remember," he continued, his voice carrying through the night, "be watchful. Be alert. If anything—anything—seems out of place, report it immediately."

With that, the pack began to disperse. I stood motionless, watching them leave, their steps hesitant, their whispers still hanging in the air like a fog.

I felt my mother’s hand slide into mine. Warm. Comforting. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough.