Aiden's lip curled, a low growl vibrating in his chest."I just want to hunt with the rest of the pack," he snapped. "You're not stopping the other omegas."
Theron sighed, long fingers dragging through his white hair as he studied Aiden like the answer might be written into his bones. "They are not my mate."
The words landed heavier than Aiden expected. Not sharp—worse. Steady. Final.
Aiden crossed his arms, tail lashing once behind him. "So what? That means I stay locked in the den while everyone else breathes real air?"
"It means I won't gamble with you," Theron said quietly.
Aiden scoffed. "You gamble with the pack every day."
Theron stepped closer. He didn't crowd—didn't bare teeth or flare power—but the air shifted anyway, moonlight pressing low against the den walls. "I gamble with myself," he corrected. "Not with you."
Silence stretched. Outside, the pack gathered—boots on stone, low voices, the clink of blades. The hunt call threaded through the trees like a promise.
Aiden's jaw tightened. "You don't get to decide what I am."
Theron's eyes softened, and that almost made it worse. "I'm not deciding what you are," he said. "I'm trying to keep what you are alive."
Aiden's wolf stirred, restless. Hunt. Move. Breathe. The instinct wasn't about bloodlust—it was about belonging. About standing shoulder to shoulder, proving he was still pack.
"I'm not fragile," Aiden said. "I won't be."
Theron studied him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded once. "Fine."
Aiden blinked. "Fine?"
"You hunt," Theron said. "With conditions."
Aiden opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. "I'm listening."
"You stay within sight of me," Theron said. "No pursuit past the first break. No solo chase. And you carry this." He pressed a smooth, moon-etched charm into Aiden's palm. Warm. Steady. "If you feel off—if your wolf falters—you signal. Immediately."
Aiden hesitated, then curled his fingers around the charm. "You're impossible."
Theron's mouth twitched. "And you're stubborn."
They stepped out together. The pack quieted when they saw Aiden at Theron's side. Not whispers—respectful silence. Heads dipped. Ronan's gaze flicked from Aiden to Theron, sharp and assessing, then he nodded once. Approval.
The forest welcomed them like an old friend. Frost crunched underfoot. Breath steamed. The hunt unfolded in practiced rhythm—scouts wide, guards flanking, scent lines drawn and redrawn.
Aiden breathed deep. Pine. Snow. Elk.
His wolf surged—not reckless, not frantic—just right. He matched pace, senses sharp, muscles loose. Theron kept close without hovering, a shadow at his shoulder.
They found the trail near the creek. Fresh. Heavy. Aiden felt the pull to break ahead and bit it back, signaling instead. Theron nodded.
They moved as one.
The take was clean. Quick. Respectful. When it was done, the pack lifted their voices—not a roar, but a low song that threaded through the trees.
Aiden stood there, chest heaving, blood-scent thick and grounding. He was shaking—not from fear, but from the rush of being allowed to be himself.
Theron's hand found his back. Solid. Proud. "You did well."
Aiden leaned into the touch before he could stop himself. "See? Still standing."
Theron smiled, brief and fierce. "Always."
They turned back toward the den together. Aiden's steps slowed, a flicker of dizziness brushing him like a passing wing. He steadied. Said nothing.
Theron noticed anyway. His hand tightened just enough to anchor. No scolding. No command. Just presence.
That night, as the pack feasted and laughed, Aiden sat warm and full, the moon rising pale and watchful above the trees. He rested a hand over his stomach without thinking, tail curling close.
His wolf purred, satisfied.
And somewhere beyond the forest edge, something watched—and marked the Moon God's mate on the hunt.
The forest didn't quiet when the hunt ended.
It listened.
Aiden felt it as they moved—every step heavier than the last, not in his muscles but deeper, like the ground itself was asking more of him than before. His breathing stayed steady, but his focus… slipped. Just a little. Enough to notice.
Theron's hand brushed his back again, a silent check.
"I'm fine," Aiden said automatically.
Theron didn't argue. He just stayed closer.
They followed the pack's return path, the night folding around them. Laughter drifted ahead, low and satisfied, but Aiden lagged half a step behind. His wolf was calm—too calm. Protective in a way that felt new. Coiled inward instead of reaching outward.
He slowed.
Theron slowed with him.
That's when it hit—not pain. Not fear.
Weight.
Not physical, exactly. A presence. A gravity centered low in his body, warm and insistent, like something had settled in and decided it belonged there.
Aiden swallowed.
His hand drifted to his stomach again, fingers splaying unconsciously. The charm Theron had given him warmed against his skin, pulsing once—steady, reassuring.
Stop, he told himself. You're imagining it.
But his wolf didn't deny it.
Instead, it curled tighter, tail wrapping protectively, ears angling inward. Guard. Shelter. Keep safe.
Aiden's steps faltered.
Theron caught him immediately, arm firm around his waist. "Aiden."
"I—" Aiden exhaled sharply. "I'm okay. Just… dizzy."
Theron's gaze searched his face, then dropped—just briefly—to where Aiden's hand rested.
Something ancient and unreadable passed through Theron's eyes. He didn't smile. Didn't soften.
He bowed his head, just enough that only Aiden could hear. "We're heading back. Now."
Aiden nodded, too aware of how right that sounded.
As they walked, memory began stitching itself together in cruel little flashes:
The healer's careful pauses.Theron's watchfulness that went beyond fear.The way his appetite had shifted—not hunger, but need.The way his wolf had stopped running ahead and started circling back.
Aiden's throat tightened.
"You didn't imagine it," he whispered, more to himself than to Theron.
Theron's grip didn't loosen. "No."
Aiden stopped walking.
The pack moved on ahead, giving them space without being told. The moon hung full above the treeline, silver and unforgiving.
Aiden looked down at himself—at his body, at the place where that strange warmth lived.
"I can't," he said hoarsely. "Theron, I can't be— I'm not— I was a beta. I didn't—"
Theron stepped in front of him, hands gentle but unyielding, framing Aiden's face. "Look at me."
Aiden did.
"You are still you," Theron said. "Still my warrior. Still pack. Still dangerous."
Aiden laughed once, broken. "Dangerous doesn't usually come with this."
His wolf stirred again—no panic, no denial. Just acceptance. A quiet yes that settled into his bones.
Aiden's eyes burned.
"I feel it," he admitted. "Not… like people say. Just—like something chose me."
Theron rested his forehead against Aiden's. "It did."
They stood there, moonlight wrapping around them, the hunt truly over now. Whatever came next—fear, change, danger—it would come with witnesses.
Aiden drew a shaky breath and squared his shoulders.
"Okay," he said quietly. "Okay."
Theron exhaled, slow and reverent, as if the world had shifted and he'd felt every inch of it. "We'll go home."
And far beyond the forest, something else felt it too.
The bond had deepened.
The future had taken root.
And the Moon was watching.