The kitchen in the Moon Shadow pack house was a whirlwind of steam and savory smells as I worked alongside the women—their names were Mary, Sarah, and Elena—who usually bore the brunt of the cooking as “omegas.” I made it a point to learn about their families and share some of the more ridiculous stories about my own military family upbringing back in Ohio, ensuring they felt like the heart of the home rather than just the help. By the time the heavy boots of the men hit the porch, we had laid out a spread that would make any Thanksgiving jealous—complete with golden-roast turkeys, mountains of mashed potatoes, and sweet potato casserole.
“Everything looks incredible, GG,” I said, giving Gina a quick wink as we set the final platters. We’d officially graduated to bestie status, and “Roni” and “GG” were the only names we were using from here on out.
When Stormy walked into the dining area, he stopped dead in his tracks. His ice-blue eyes scanned the loaded tables, taking in the abundance that filled the room. He looked amazed, his usual stoic mask cracking as his eyes began to twinkle. He moved straight toward me, and despite the room full of people, the world narrowed down to just us.
“You’ve been busy, Veronica,” he rumbled, his voice thick with a quiet appreciation.
“Just making sure the ‘wolfies’ don’t waste away,” I teased, leaning into the heat of his side.
Dinner was a steady hum of clinking plates and cheerful conversation. Stormy was more relaxed than I’d ever seen him. I kept up a steady stream of banter, leaning in to whisper a particularly dry joke about my cats, Smudge and Emmy, that sent him into a deep, baritone chuckle. The sound was so rare and robust that the rest of the table seemed to lift with it; the sullen, heavy atmosphere that usually followed the Alpha was replaced by genuine cheer.
We sat there, feeding each other bites and holding hands, looking every bit the lovebirds that the pack expected—and that I was starting to believe we actually were. But as the meal wound down and the plates were cleared, the weight of my secret mission—and the image of little Amara—settled back into my chest.
I reached over, squeezing Stormy’s hand. “Come out to the Beast with me?” I asked softly.
He looked at me, his expression softening into something incredibly tender. “Anything you want, Veronica.”
We walked out into the cool Minnesota night, leaving the warmth of the pack house behind. The Beast sat waiting in the moonlight, dragon-green and steady, and as the door hissed open, I knew the “honeymoon” bubble was about to meet the reality of the work I had planned.
__***________
The quiet hum of the Minnesota night felt different now—less like a vast, empty wilderness and more like a protective blanket. We walked toward the Beast, the dragon-green metal reflecting the silver moonlight, while Smudgie and Emmy trotted behind us like tiny, fur-covered bodyguards. Stormy’s hand was heavy and warm in mine, and for a second, I just let myself enjoy the feeling of being anchored.
The second the door to the Beast hissed shut, the world of the pack house vanished. I flicked on the amber LEDs, and the cats immediately reclaimed their favorite spots—Smudgie on the window ledge and Emmy curling onto the foot of the bed.
I turned to him, leaning against the kitchenette counter. “So, Stormy. Do you plan on telling everyone I’m your Luna, or is that just a title you’re keeping for private conversations?”
He froze, a look of genuine shock crossing his face. “You know about that? I haven’t even had the chance to explain anything to you yet.”
“I have my sources,” I teased, giving him a playful smirk.
“Veronica,” he rumbled, his voice dropping into that serious, soul-deep tone. “If you are truly going to stay… if you can see a life here with me… then yes. I was going to ask you to be the Luna of Moon Shadow.”
I didn’t make him wait. I stepped into his space, my Ohio sass softening into something much more permanent. “I’m staying, wolfie.”
The grin that broke across his face was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. It led to a kiss that tasted like home, and eventually, we drifted toward the bedroom area of the bus. There, surrounded by the walls I’d painted and the life I’d lived on the road, we made out with a tenderness that felt like a quiet vow.
Later, as we were canoodling under the heavy blankets, my head resting on his chest, the “fixer” in me started to come out. “Stormy, if I’m going to be your Luna, I’m not just going to sit on the porch and look pretty.”
“I never expected you to,” he whispered, his thumb tracing the curve of my shoulder.
“I want to build things,” I said, my voice gaining strength. “I want a real school right here on the lands so the cubs don’t have to bus fifteen miles into Roseau every day. I want a grocery store—a real one, so people don’t have to wait for paychecks to feel secure. And a community center with a clinic. We have too many people falling through the cracks.”
Stormy went still, listening as I laid out my vision for the pack. I told him I wanted a pack-wide party to meet every single member—from the highest Beta to the quietest Little.
“We can do all of that,” he promised, pulling me closer. “But first, there’s the ceremony. An Alpha and a Luna are presented to the pack officially. It’s how they know the moon goddess has finally brought us together.”
I drifted off to sleep that night in the Beast, anchored by his heat and guarded by my cats. I was becoming the Luna of Moon Shadow, and while the fated part was the universe’s doing, the work we were about to do—that was all mine.