Beneath the Moon We Broke

So... yeah. She was back. Raven. After-what, three years? God. Felt longer. Or maybe not. Time gets weird when you're... when everything's broken. Whatever.

The forest hadn't changed much. Still smelled like pine and old ghosts. Same clearing. Same trees. Same patch of moonlight hitting that same stupid patch of grass where-nope. Not going there yet.

She stood at the edge of it all like she might turn back. She wouldn't. But she stood like she might. That counts for something, right?

Her boots crunched against dead leaves. Loud in the quiet. Or maybe it wasn't quiet. Just... too still. That kind of silence that feels like something's holding its breath.

Her wolf was already pacing. Not physically. Just... inside. Scratchy. Restless. Like a hand drumming on the back of her skull. He's here. You know he's here.

And yeah. She knew. Not saw. Not smelled. Just knew. You don't stop feeling someone like him. Not really.

She stepped into the clearing anyway. Slow. Not hesitant-okay, maybe a little. But mostly slow 'cause everything here still remembered. Her blood. Her cries. His voice saying-doesn't matter.

And then he was there.

Damon.

Of course.

Of freaking course.

Same eyes. Gray like a storm that doesn't care if it drowns you. Same jawline. Same... everything. Except older, maybe. Tired. And yeah, her chest did that tight thing again.

He didn't speak right away. Because why would he? Let her do the talking. Let her carry it.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, eventually.

Wow. Classic opener. Straight outta the emotionally unavailable alpha playbook.

She smiled. Not the nice kind. The sharp one. "Then why are you?"

He blinked. Didn't answer. Not properly, anyway. Just... looked.

"You've changed," he muttered. Like he was shocked she'd become someone else after he-never mind.

"So have you," she said. Flat. Tired. True.

The silence that followed was thick. Not awkward. Just heavy. Like words were trying to push through it but getting stuck halfway out.

"I made a mistake," he said.

And that-God, that was it. That sentence. She laughed. Not because it was funny. Just because what else do you do with that?

"You chose to destroy me, Damon. That's not a mistake. That's... intent. That's a decision."

He didn't move. Didn't blink. Just stood there like her rage was weather and he was trying to wait it out.

"I was protecting the pack," he said.

And oh my God, if she had a coin for every time she heard that...

She took a step closer. Didn't mean to. But her feet were stupid like that.

"And now?" she asked. Voice low. Wolf close.

He looked... small. Not physically. But somewhere in his eyes. "Now I know... I was wrong."

Simple as that, huh? Like that fixes three years of bleeding and silence and waking up screaming into the night.

But still. Still. That bond. That thing between them? It hummed. Glowed. Pulled. Like it didn't care that she hated him.

She turned away. Mostly so she wouldn't say something stupid. Or feel something worse.

"You don't get to come back now," she said. "You don't get to want me again."

"I never stopped," he said. Real quiet.

And she felt that in her spine.

She started walking away-slow, careful, not dramatic or anything. Just... done.

Or she wanted to be.

But his voice chased her. Quiet. Almost-soft? "Raven."

She froze. Because of course she did. Stupid name. Stupid way he said it like it still belonged to him.

"What?" she asked, not turning.

"I didn't know how to miss you," he said. "So I tried not to."

Her fingers curled into fists. Not because it hurt. But because it still hurt.

She turned around then-fast, sharper than she meant to-and stared at him like maybe that would burn the bond right out of both of them.

"You left me to drown in silence, Damon. You chose the pack. You chose fear. And now you want-what, redemption? Closure?"

"No," he said. "Just a chance."

She laughed again. It sounded ugly this time. Raw. Like a wound.

"A chance?" she echoed. "You don't get to want that. You lost it the night you walked away. You threw it at my feet."

"I thought I was doing the right thing."

"You weren't," she snapped. "You weren't even brave enough to ask."

And the bond-damn it-it flared. Like it was happy to hear them fight. Like pain made it stronger.

They stood there in the clearing. Two ghosts. Two stories that refused to end.

"Why now?" she asked, quieter.

He didn't answer right away. Then: "Because the dark is coming, and I... I don't want to face it without you."

And for a second-just a breath-she wanted to believe him.

But then she blinked, stepped back, and said the one thing she knew would hurt.

"You already did."

"You should've fought for it," she whispered. Not angry. Not dramatic. Just... tired. "You should've fought for me."

The wind moved, low and soft through the trees. Not loud. More like... a breath. Something breathing with them. Or maybe against them.

Damon reached out-slow. Careful. His hand hovered near her arm, not touching, like maybe she'd vanish. Or burn him.

"I'm fighting now," he said. Like it mattered. Like it fixed anything. "Let me fight for us."

She looked at his hand, just hanging there, then up at his eyes. Still stormy. Still impossible to read unless you already knew what was underneath. And she did. That was the problem.

The bond between them... it pulsed. Not strong. Not loud. Just there. Always there. Like a thread she couldn't cut. Like a whisper she couldn't un-hear.

But so did the scars-sharp and steady. Right along her collarbone. Right where memory lived. They throbbed like they had their own heartbeats.

She had learned how to stand without him. It hadn't been pretty. It had cost her parts of herself she still couldn't name. But she did it. So... leaning on him again?

No.

"The girl you broke," she said, steady this time, "she's gone."

A pause.

"The woman standing here now... she doesn't know how to forgive."

She stepped back. Just one step. But it was enough to stretch something invisible between them until it snapped.

The clearing was quiet. Too quiet. It used to mean something to them. Now it just felt... haunted.

The moon stared down, white and blank. Like it had watched too much and didn't want to care anymore.

Neither of them spoke for a bit. Like words were too sharp to touch.

Her chest was tight. Not from love. Not from hate either. Just that ache you get when something should be over but isn't. Damon's presence was like that-unresolved. A humming in her bones she wished she could shut off.

She hadn't come here for him. That needed to stay clear in her head. This wasn't about them. This was about what was coming.

"I heard things," she finally said. "Rogues. But different. Stronger. Smarter. Wrong somehow."

He didn't react. Not with his face, anyway. But his eyes-they twitched. Just a flick. She caught it.

"We've had reports," he said, voice lower now. "Scattered stuff. No real patterns."

She shook her head. "That's because you're not seeing the patterns. Or you don't want to."

She hadn't meant it to come out so sharp. But maybe she did.

"They're organized," she added. "They're not just wandering. They're hunting."

That landed. She felt it. In the shift of his weight. In the way he didn't meet her eyes right away.

Silence again. But this one was different. Heavy in a new way.

He stepped toward her. One step. Careful, but certain. His scent hit her-the forest, the rain, the something she used to miss.

Her wolf shifted inside her. Still. Watchful. Waiting.

"Why tell me?" he asked.

She almost laughed. But it would've come out wrong.

"Because this is where it started," she said. "So... if it ends..." She trailed off.

He didn't answer. Just looked at her like maybe she was a memory he couldn't hold right.

Then-finally-he touched her. Not hard. Barely a brush. Just his fingers at her cheek.

And somehow... it cracked something open.

She didn't mean to breathe him in. She didn't want to. But she did.

And for a second-just long enough to hurt-she let herself remember how it used to feel.

She pulled back. Slowly. Not because she wanted to-just... because she had to. That touch? It messed with her head. It wasn't fair. He wasn't supposed to feel familiar anymore.

"Don't," she murmured. Her voice barely made it past her throat. "Don't make this harder than it already is."

His hand dropped. He didn't argue. Didn't beg. Just looked at her with that same face-regret carved into every damn line.

She turned her back to him. Not out of anger. Just... exhaustion. Her shoulders were stiff, like the weight of everything they'd never said was hanging off them.

"I don't know if I'm here for you," she said. "I don't even know if I'm here for me."

He didn't answer. She wasn't sure she wanted him to.

She looked out past the trees. Shadows shifted at the edge of the clearing. Not real ones-memories. Or ghosts. Or maybe both. This place held too much. Too many echoes.

"We're not the same people," she added, more to the wind than to him. "We lost something. And I don't think we can get it back."

"Maybe," he said behind her. "But maybe what we become is still worth it."

She didn't turn. Just let the silence take over again. One heartbeat. Then another.

And somewhere deep down... her wolf howled. Not in pain.

Not in rage.

Just... recognition.

"Let me help you, Raven," he said. Voice low. Barely holding together. "Let's face this. You and me. Like we were always supposed to."

She flinched.

The scars on her collarbone-God, they burned. Not literally, but... memory has a way of feeling real sometimes.

She stepped back. Fast. Like space could save her.

The clearing? Too quiet. Too small. Everything around her closing in-like it knew. Like the trees remembered, too.

And the moon? That traitor. Bright, watching, silent. The same moon that watched him walk away once. The same one watching now while she did.

She turned. Walked.

Didn't look back.

Couldn't.

But she felt him there. Still. His gaze like a hand between her shoulder blades. Heavy. Too heavy. The bond-the damn bond-was humming again. Not gently. Loud. Like a song she didn't ask to hear.

She clenched her jaw.

This wasn't why she came. This reunion, this ache, this everything-it wasn't part of the plan.

She was here for information. Strategy. War, maybe. Not this.

Her boots crushed leaves. Loud, sharp. Like each step was yelling: keep going. Don't you dare turn around.

The forest used to be soft. Safe.

Now? Just noise and ghosts.

Every tree? A memory. Every shadow? A version of her from three years ago, still bleeding in the dirt.

And those words... oh, those words.

You're a liability, Raven. Love has no place in war.

She didn't just remember them. She felt them. Still echoing, sharp, cold. Like glass in her throat.

She kept walking.

Three years rebuilding. Alone. Choosing herself because no one else did. No more fairy tales. No more fate.

She had scars now. Inside. Outside. Armor made of disappointment and pure survival.

She fought. She won. She stood up when no one was watching.

So yeah-he didn't get to touch her now.

"Raven, wait-!"

No.

She picked up speed.

Her wolf snarled, low and angry, but confused. Wanting to stop. Wanting to fight.

She stopped. Too fast. Turned.

Her golden eyes glowed. Fury. Grief. All of it.

"What else do you want, Damon?"

Her voice broke. But she didn't.

"You had your chance. You threw it away."

He was right there now. Just standing. Backlit by moonlight. Alpha, yeah, but... small in that moment. Smaller than the weight between them.

"I want to explain," he said. "I need you to understand."

"Understand what?" Her laugh was sharp. Bitter. "That you were afraid? That your pride mattered more than your mate? That you chose strength over love like that's some kind of wisdom?"

Her chest rose and fell. Fast. Like her lungs forgot how to breathe around him.

"It wasn't that simple-" he started, stepping closer again.

She didn't back away.

"Of course it wasn't," she cut in. "It never is. But you made it that way."

He reached toward her. Hand open. Like that could fix anything.

"There was a prophecy," he said. "A real one. It said... if we were bound, it would end badly. I thought I was protecting you. And the pack."

She stared. Eyes narrowed.

"Prophecy?" she echoed, quiet but sharp. "Really?"

He nodded.

"You never told me."

"I was trying to-"

"No." She shook her head. "You left. You didn't warn. You didn't explain. You ran."

Damon didn't move. Didn't say anything for a beat. Maybe two. Just... stood there like he was finally seeing the damage.

She swallowed. Hard. The silence between them wasn't empty-it was full. Of years. Of choices. Of the pieces they didn't pick up.

"I begged the moon to take the bond away," she said quietly, eyes flicking up to that cold silver thing in the sky. "Every night. For months. Just... begged."

His shoulders dropped a little.

She didn't care.

"You don't get to walk back in and act like this is yours to fix," she continued, voice shaking now, but steady enough. "I built something out of that pain. And I won't tear it down because you suddenly changed your mind."

"I never stopped loving you."

The words hung there. Like smoke. Like they didn't know where to land.

She closed her eyes.

Of course he said it. Of course.

But it didn't change the ache in her ribs. Or the years she spent pretending she didn't still feel that bond in every full moon.

"I know," she said finally. "That's what makes this worse."

And wih that-simple, small-she turned again. Walked.

One step. Two. Breath shaking. Eyes burning.

She didn't stop this time.

Didn't need to.

Because she'd already said goodbye.

Even if part of her still wished he'd follow.

He paused. Looked down. Which... yeah, that was rare for him. Damon didn't usually break eye contact. Alpha pride and all that. But now?

Now he just stood there. Quiet. Like the words were stuck behind his teeth.

"There were whispers," he finally said, almost like it hurt to say it. "Of something dark. Something that wanted to destroy the bonds. Fated ones. Said they made us weak. That if an Alpha's bond was too visible... too powerful... it could be used."

He stopped. Like he couldn't quite finish.

"The elders believed it. I... believed them."

Raven's head tilted, slow. "You believed that? That the bond between us-something sacred, something divine-was a weakness?"

Her voice cracked a little on that last word.

He looked up then. Met her eyes. And what she saw there? It wasn't arrogance. Not the old Damon. It was pain. Raw. Twisted.

"I was young," he whispered. "And scared. Of failing. Of losing you. Of getting it wrong and watching everything fall apart."

He swallowed. "I thought I was sacrificing us to protect you. To protect everyone."

Her wolf stirred. Not with anger this time. Something sadder. A low, aching sound inside her chest.

It explained things. A little. But not enough.

"You made that choice alone," she said. "You didn't even ask if I wanted to fight beside you."

Silence.

He didn't defend himself. Just nodded.

"I stole that from you," he said. "And I'll spend whatever time I have left trying to make it right."

Then he stepped forward. Again. A little closer. Close enough that she could feel the warmth from his body.

"The threat," he said, voice lower, rougher. "It's here, Raven. And it's not just rogues. They're puppets. There's something... behind them. Something pulling the strings."

She went still. The anger didn't vanish, but something sharper crept in. Focus.

This. This was why she came.

"What kind of power?"

He glanced at the trees, like they might overhear.

"Dark magic," he said. "Old. Forgotten. It turns shifters into something... twisted. They don't feel pain. Don't fear anything. They're faster. Stronger. And wrong."

Her spine went rigid.

She'd seen them. Out there. Half-feral things with dead eyes and broken rhythms. She'd thought they were just... too far gone. But this? This meant it wasn't madness. It was design.

"And this prophecy?" she asked. "You think it's about them?"

He nodded once. Slow. Serious.

"It said the bonds would be tested. That something dark would rise. And there'd be a choice. A sacrifice. Redemption."

Then his eyes locked onto hers.

"It spoke of us, Raven. You and me. Our bond."

Her breath caught. Just for a second.

Not because of love.

Because of weight.

Everything they hated about this tie suddenly felt... heavier. Bigger.

"The key to what?" she asked. The words barely left her lips.

"To stopping them," he said. "To saving our kind."

And then-damn him-he reached up. Brushed her cheek again. Gently. Like before.

But this time... she didn't pull away.

Warmth bloomed under his touch. Uninvited. Unwelcome. But there.

"I was wrong," he said. "So wrong. Our bond isn't weakness. It's the only thing that can save us now."

She stared at him. Deep.

Looking for something ugly. Some crack in the honesty.

But there was nothing. Just... grief. And guilt. And something too fragile to name.

She exhaled. Slow. Long.

The past was still there. Heavy. Broken. But now... maybe not all in vain.

Maybe this wasn't the end.

Maybe this was the start of something else. Not clean. Not easy.

But real.

She looked up at the moon. Still watching. Still shining.

And for once-it didn't feel cruel.

She didn't answer. Not right away.

Words felt... too small. Like they couldn't carry everything inside her.

But she didn't move, either.

Didn't pull away from his touch.

Didn't hide.

"I don't forgive you," she said finally. Soft. Like a truth whispered in the dark. "Not yet."

"I know," he replied. And his voice didn't break-but it bent. Just enough to show it mattered.

She looked down at his hand, still at her cheek, and for a second-just one-she leaned into it. The tiniest shift. A breath's worth.

"I came back for answers," she said. "I didn't come back for you."

A beat.

"But maybe... maybe this is part of the answer."

The bond pulsed-warm now. Familiar. Like something waking up.

And as the wind whispered through the trees, neither of them moved.

Not forward. Not back.

Just... there.

In the almost.

Raven had just slipped into the trees when it hit-the sound. A scream. Not human. Not wolf either.

It tore through the quiet like claws through flesh. Sharp. Wrong. Too close.

She froze.

Didn't breathe. Didn't blink.

Her wolf... snapped awake. Hackles up. Muscles tensed. Fight-mode, all the way.

That wasn't a rogue. She knew that. Felt it in her spine.

Something else.

Worse.

Her fingers found the knife at her thigh. Familiar. Comforting. But small.

The forest? Different now. Thicker. Like it was holding its breath.

She didn't turn back.

Just whispered into the dark, "Guess war didn't wait for a welcome."

And then-gone. Just... gone.

Swallowed whole.