The Wolf God's Unwanted Luna

Vivian’s POV

"Mom?"

The second the word left my lips, the other line went completely silent. For a breathless heartbeat, I thought maybe the call had dropped, until I heard the sound. A soft, choked sob that shattered something deep inside me.

"V-Vivian? Is that really you?" Her voice trembled with disbelief and aching hope.

Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. My throat tightened. "Yeah, Mom, it’s me," I whispered, barely able to hold myself together. Just hearing her voice brought on a wave of homesickness so strong it felt like it might drown me. I’d missed her, of course I had, but nothing could have prepared me for how much hearing her would hurt and soothe me all at once.

"Oh my god, my baby girl!" she cried. "You probably don’t have much time, go ahead, speak quickly. Where are you? Who took you?"

Her questions made my heart twist. For a moment, I didn’t understand. Then it hit me. She thought I’d somehow managed to make a call while still being held captive. That I was in danger. To her, I was the kidnapped daughter calling home in secret.

I blinked away the burn behind my eyes and took a breath. "No, Mom. It’s okay. I can talk to you for as long as I want." I glanced at Zaliver, momentarily forgetting he was even in the room. When our eyes met, I silently dared him to try and take the phone from me. But he didn’t move. He just stood there watching me, eyes unreadable, head slightly tilted in thought. I turned back to the call.

"There are things I should probably explain," I murmured, already unsure of how to even begin.

"Wait, are they making you say this?" she asked suddenly. Her tone shifted, sharper now, on the edge of panic. "If I went to the store, what would I see first? Skittles, Snickers, or Hershey?"

I let out a shaky breath and couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped me, even as my chest ached. Of course she remembered that.

When I was younger, I’d been a little different. Anxious, maybe, in the way certain kids are, the ones whose imaginations run faster than their ability to separate real from possible. I constantly convinced myself people were out to get me and insisted we needed an emergency code in case I ever got kidnapped. I remembered sitting at the kitchen table with a box of crayons, completely serious, laying out the whole system for my mother with the gravity of a field general. She’d been washing dishes, and she’d turned around, dried her hands on a tea towel, and looked at the paper I’d pushed toward her. She’d humored me, eventually, after I’d thrown what I could only describe as a very passionate and well-reasoned tantrum about the reality of kidnappings in the modern world.

Skittles meant I was out of state or out of the country.

Snickers meant I recognized my kidnapper.

Hershey meant I was being forced to speak.

I’d been eight. My mother had kept it anyway.

"I can’t believe you remembered that," I whispered, smiling despite everything. "That was such a long time ago."

"So no Hershey?" she asked, voice shaking.

"No candy, Mom. I’m okay. Really. I promise." I tried to keep my tone light, but I could feel Zaliver’s gaze boring into the side of my face, and it made my stomach twist.

"Then where are you?" she asked, and I could hear the pain she was holding back. "Why haven’t you come home? Are you in danger? If you are, you know we’ll protect you here. Just come back, Vivian. Everyone’s so worried. We’ve been searching for you. Your father even tried convincing the alpha to send a search party, but he said he couldn’t feel your pack bond anymore. He still senses you, but not your connection."

Guilt hit me like a punch to the chest.

I hadn’t thought about how deeply this had affected them, how terrified they must have been, wondering what happened to me after I disappeared along with so many other girls. How helpless they must’ve felt, sitting at home with no answers, not knowing if I was still alive somewhere or already gone.

"I’m sorry," I whispered. "I’m so sorry, Mom. You and Dad must’ve been going out of your minds. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m not hurt, I’m just..." The words clogged in my throat. How do you explain any of this in a single phone call? How do you say I found my mate, he’s a lycan god, I’m bonded to him against my will but also maybe not entirely against my will, and I’m on a hidden island in the Bermuda Triangle, and by the way I think I might be turning into something that isn’t entirely human?

You don’t. Not yet. Not all at once. "It’s complicated," I said finally. "So much has happened, and I don’t even know where to start."

"Then start anywhere," she said quietly, her voice soft and certain. "I have time. I’ll always have time for you, no matter what."

Something cracked open in my chest.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling the mattress dip beneath me. The air around me buzzed with unspoken tension, every nerve in my body aware of Zaliver standing somewhere behind me. I didn’t know if he was waiting to stop me from saying something, or if he was just letting me have this moment.

A part of me, the broken, furious part, still whispered that he didn’t deserve my trust. That if he really cared about me, he wouldn’t have ripped me from my life, my family, my home. That this call should never have had to happen in the first place.

But another part of me, the one that had started to feel things I didn’t want to name, argued that he did care. Maybe more than I could understand. That every time he looked at me, something shifted in him. And in me.

I pressed the phone closer to my ear and let my mother’s steady breathing settle something in me that had been rattling loose for days.

"Okay then," I said softly. "Here’s where I’ll start."

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