The Wolf God's Unwanted Luna

Vivian’s POV

I headed downstairs and knocked on my dad’s office door. He looked up from his computer with his usual tired smile.

"You need a ride?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Nah. Us chubby girls gotta earn our cardio somehow."

He chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "You’re not fat."

"I said chubby."

"You’re not chubby."

I smirked. "Fine. Fluffy, then."

"You’re not—"

"The next one’s gonna be a word you’ll regret, so tread carefully," I warned with a pointed finger.

He groaned dramatically, rubbing his forehead. "Why do the women in this family always back me into corners like this?"

"Because Mom threatened to castrate you if she had to pop out another kid," I said dryly, dropping onto the little couch in his office.

Dad tilted his head, as if genuinely considering it. "Oh. Right."

Moms. Gotta love them.

"Hey, Dad," I started, my voice trailing off with uncertainty.

He looked up from his desk, frowning at the tone. "What’s up?" he asked, turning his chair toward me.

I let out a groan and threw my head back. "Do you ever get that feeling like you’ve forgotten something really important, something you are not supposed to forget?" I asked, sitting up and placing both hands on my knees. "Not like where you left your keys. More like you’re doing everything that makes sense, but deep down it feels like you’re supposed to be somewhere else entirely. Doing something else. Like you’re in the wrong place and you can’t figure out why."

Dad leaned back, folding his hands. "Plenty of times. Just the other day I forgot to—"

"No, not like that." I shook my head. "Not forgetfulness. More like... absence. Like there’s a shape of something missing and you don’t even know what shape it is."

Understanding flickered briefly in his eyes. I hoped he got it.

"Is this about college? Because if you are feeling overwhelmed it’s fine to take a year off—"

I made a frustrated sound and stood, pacing. "No. That’s not it."

Something shifted in his face. Confusion, and then something else. Something that felt a lot like fear. I stopped pacing and looked at him.

He was scared for me.

"Vivian, are you feeling okay?" He started rising from his chair. "Maybe you should stay in today."

I backed toward the door, hands up. "I’m fine. I just need air. I’ll call you when I get back."

Before he could push further, I slipped out.

Being part of a gated pack community had its pros and cons. Safe, yes. Protected, definitely. But sometimes it pressed in on you, and the only way to breathe was to put some distance between yourself and all those familiar walls and faces.

I headed toward the old park, the one buried deeper into the forest, away from the daily hum of the pack. It was older than most of the playgrounds, predating the modern equipment by decades. I’d found it during a middle school project and had kept coming back ever since when I needed to think. When I told Dad I was going to the park, I wasn’t lying. It was a park. Or it had been, once.

Along the way I nodded at a few familiar faces. Short greetings, brief eye contact. But something was off. Everyone I passed seemed vaguely uneasy, glancing away a beat too quickly, shifting their weight. I didn’t try to figure it out. Maybe I was giving off strange energy. Or maybe I was just strange.

The further I got from the houses, the clearer my head became. The noise fell away, the smells thinned, and I could finally breathe without it feeling like effort. I stepped over broken branches, skirted puddles, and turned at the foot-shaped boulder that had always been my landmark. Twenty steps past that, and I was there.

The abandoned playground stood like something the forest had half-claimed. Vines along the fence. Rust on the climbing frame. I’d never played on the swings or the slide, it had always felt wrong somehow, like disturbing something that had decided to rest. I always went straight for the long, smooth rock bench near the back. The only thing that had aged gracefully here. Thank the moon it was stone and not wood.

I sat down, closed my eyes, and let the quiet settle over me.

The air was different here. Cleaner. Untouched. My limbs relaxed by degrees, and my thoughts slowed until they stopped snagging on each other. At some point, without meaning to, I drifted.

I wasn’t worried. No one came here. Pack land was safe land.

Then it came. That particular feeling you get when someone’s about to knock while you’re half-asleep. Your body clocking something your mind hasn’t caught up to yet.

Soft footsteps. Deliberate. Close.

My eyes stayed shut. My body didn’t move. But something behind my ribs quietly shifted to attention.

Then: thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Four heartbeats. Distinct, steady, and near.

My foggy, half-sleeping mind turned that over slowly. Four heartbeats. That was odd. I wasn’t sure why it was odd, exactly, the thought floated just out of reach, but it was odd, the way a detail is odd when it doesn’t fit the pattern of what’s normal and you can’t immediately say why.

I breathed in, slow and shallow.

Their scents reached me.

Familiar. Too familiar, in the specific way that meant something rather than the vague way that meant I’d passed them in the street. I knew these people. I was almost certain of it. But the certainty kept slipping before I could pin it down.

Their steps grew closer, careful and hesitant.

"We shouldn’t be this close. It’s a risk," a male voice whispered.

"Yeah, but she’s asleep. We can’t just leave her out here. Its not safe for her and besides You heard his orders," a female replied.

I kept my face still, kept my breathing even, trying as much as possible to not get caught.

His orders.

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