╭─────── ♱ · 𓆩🤍𓆪 · ♱ ─╮
.·:*¨༺𝐒𝐢𝐱༻¨*:·.
☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴏғ ʟᴜɴᴀ ᴍᴀᴇ
( 𝘕𝘦𝘸 𝘔𝘰𝘰𝘯 )
@LILLYOFTHEVAIIEY
╰─ ♱ · 𓆩🤍𓆪 · ♱ ──────────╯

𝓘t had been four and a half weeks since Luna Mae's disappearance, five long and heavy weeks since her blood was found splattered across the forest floor-enough, the cops said, to conclude no one could survive it. The search had ended. The headlines read Local Girl Presumed Dead. The funeral was held just three days later.

The funeral had been held on a bitter Saturday, rain soaking the edges of the white canopy outside the church. The La Push community turned out in droves-teachers, classmates, old friends. They clutched umbrellas and rosaries, tissues clutched tight in hand. Inside, the air was thick with incense and sorrow. Luna Mae's father stood at the front in a stiff black suit, a man hollowed out from the inside. Her stepmother sobbed openly in the pew, hands trembling as she held a picture of Luna: bright-eyed, alive, grinning in a sunlit field.

Embry sat in the very back, jaw clenched so tight it ached, muscles drawn tight like wire beneath his skin. The rest of the pack flanked him-Paul like a wall on his right, Jared on his left. Sam remained at the back, arms folded across his chest, watching everything. When Tahlia turned mid-service and spotted Embry, her scream fractured the silence.

"You don't get to be here!"

Her voice rang through the church like a bell cracking. People gasped. She stormed down the aisle, tears pouring down her face, and shoved Embry hard enough that his chair scraped across the floor. He didn't stop her. Didn't even blink. Paul caught her before she could swing again, wrapping her in a tight grip while she cried, "She loved you. She trusted you!"

The pastor tried to speak, but the damage was done. Embry stood slowly and walked out on shaking legs, the weight of the world pressing down on his spine.

That night he argued with Sam until his throat went raw. He screamed that Luna was still out there, that she wouldn't just die, not like that. "You didn't know her," he snapped. "You didn't feel what I felt." His hands were fists at his sides, trembling violently. "The imprint's not broken. I'd know. I'd feel it. She's not gone."

"She bled out, Embry," Jared had said quietly, gently. "There was too much blood-"

"No!" Embry roared. "That wasn't hers. Or it wasn't all hers. I don't know, but it wasn't right. None of it is."

After that, every night he phased and ran. Through woods and rivers, over ridges and valleys. He chased scents long faded, followed trails that led nowhere. Rain soaked his fur. Wind whipped his face. Sometimes, he ran for so long and so far that his body simply gave out, collapsing mid-sprint, crumpling into dirt and leaves. Sam always found him, always carried him back, silent and grim.

They all noticed the changes. The way his face thinned. How his clothes started hanging off his frame. Werewolves didn't get sick. They didn't weaken. But grief, they discovered, had a power even wolf healing couldn't outrun.

Sam had to start showering him, quietly and gently, like he was a broken child. Washing mud and blood from his skin while Embry stared blankly at the tile. Paul made him eat, sitting at the kitchen table like a warden with a spoon, refusing to leave until the food was gone. Jared left fresh clothes, clean towels, would brush his hair and his teeth.

He stopped sleeping in his bed. Just laid on top of the blankets in jeans and a t-shirt, staring at the ceiling for hours. Days. The ceiling was neutral. It didn't ask anything of him. Didn't expect him to move on.

When Jacob and Quil came by, they tried not to act shocked by how he looked. But it was impossible to hide their horror. His cheekbones jutted out sharply. His eyes were sunken. Stubble had grown along his jaw in a way that looked more feral than human. He didn't blink when they walked in. Didn't react to their voices.

"Embry," Jacob said softly. "It's me, man. Jake."

Quil knelt beside the bed, laying a hand gently on his friend's arm. "We miss you, bro. Say something, please."

Still nothing.

They stayed for a while. Talked at him. Told stories. Made jokes. Begged.

He didn't move.

Outside, his mother cried softly in the kitchen, turning her face to the wall as if ashamed of her grief-knowing that the Maes were going through actually loosing their daughter. She just happened to loose her son the day their daughter died.

The next few days blurred together in a haze of silence and shadows. Jacob phased, but Embry barely even noticed.

Embry stopped going to school. At first his mom called the office and gave excuses-"He's sick," she'd say, or "He's going through something." But the calls stopped when she realized no one could force Embry to get out of bed, let alone return to class.

He no longer phased. His body, normally bursting with vitality and strength, had grown gaunt and fragile. It wasn't just the weight loss-it was the dullness in his skin, the lethargy in his movements. He was no longer healing the way he used to. Something deep inside him had unraveled, cutting him off from the source of his power. He wasn't wolf or boy anymore-just a shell hovering somewhere in between.

He spent most of his time lying on the couch now. Staring at the ceiling. The windows were kept closed and the blinds drawn, the air inside the house stale with grief. His mother cleaned around him gently, brushing crumbs from the couch cushions like she was tending to a gravestone.

One evening, Paul and Jared sat at the kitchen table, voices low but urgent. Sam leaned against the counter, arms folded tightly, eyes shadowed with exhaustion.

"He's not phasing anymore," Jared said, glancing toward the living room where Embry lay. "That's not just depression. That's... something deeper."

Paul looked between them, jaw clenched. "Is this what it's like?" he asked. "Losing your imprint? Is this what happens when she dies?"

Sam's expression flickered. "I don't know," he admitted, voice rough. "With Emily... I never felt what he's feeling. She's alive. I never had to test the bond like this."

Paul pressed, voice tight. "But if the bond breaks, doesn't it mean-doesn't it kill you, somehow?"

Sam looked down, his fists tightening at his sides. "If she's really dead," he said slowly, "then yes, maybe the bond would've snapped completely. But it hasn't." His gaze lifted to Embry, who lay motionless on the couch, lips parted slightly, eyes unblinking. "He's still feeling it. It's pulling at him. That... that might be the only reason he's still breathing."

Jared swallowed hard. "So what if he's right? What if she's not gone?"

"Then we have to pray we figure it out before it kills him anyway," Sam said. "Because if he loses hope... the bond might break on its own. And that'll be it."

The silence afterward was suffocating.

In the next room, Embry didn't blink. Didn't stir. But a single tear slid down his cheek, trailing into the hollow beneath his jaw. He'd heard every word. And somewhere-buried beneath layers of pain and doubt-a tiny sliver of hope flickered, too faint to feel, but not quite dead.

────୨ৎ────

The sun was just beginning to rise, a pale orange smear against the cool blue of the early morning sky. Fog clung to the trees and curled around the damp roadside like ghosts reluctant to leave. Luna Mae stood on the gravel shoulder of Route 101, hugging her arms around herself. Nova's hoodie dwarfed her-swallowed her whole, really. It smelled like pine and old firewood, and there was a rip at the seam of the right pocket where Nova always kept a blade. Luna's bare feet were caked in mud, her skin smudged with dirt to make her look convincingly lost and broken. The illusion was important. This had to be believable.

Nova had made sure of every detail.

"You don't talk too much," Nova had warned her last night, crouched by the cave fire. "Just enough. Let the silence tell its own story."

Luna had nodded, chewing her bottom lip.

"And for the love of god, don't smile at anyone. You've been through hell, remember?"

Luna remembered.

She hadn't slept at all. They'd made camp a few miles east of the highway, waiting for the sky to lighten just enough that a passerby might see her. Nova had rubbed some dirt on her cheeks herself, then run a blade gently along her ankle to simulate scratches from underbrush. It had taken hours to plan this. Hours of debate, of hesitation, of Nova nearly backing out until Luna had whispered, "Please. I just want to go home."

Now, standing in the cold morning air, Luna tucked her hands into the sleeves and breathed slowly. She counted the seconds, just like Nova taught her-calming herself, suppressing the thirst that was already scratching at the back of her throat. She hadn't fed in three days to dull the vibrant color of her eyes, and the restraint made her skin prickle and itch. She knew she wouldn't be able to hide the red entirely if someone looked closely, but that was where disorientation came in. Let them think trauma. Let them think anything but vampire.

She heard the car before she saw it. A sputtering, old sedan, its headlights ghosting through the fog. Her pulse-or the ghost of it-thudded. She staggered forward as it slowed. The gravel bit into her feet. A woman stepped out, cautious but concerned. Middle-aged, red jacket, too many bracelets.

"Sweetheart?" the woman called, eyes wide. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Luna blinked at her. Let her lip tremble. "I... I don't know," she whispered. "Where am I?"

The woman gasped softly and rushed forward, slipping an arm around her.

"I'm Barbara," she said gently. "It's okay now, honey. I've got you. We're gonna get you help, alright?"

Luna nodded slowly, letting herself sag into Barbara's side, just like Nova told her to. Keep the act going. No sudden movements. No sharp turns of the head. No dazzling stares.

Fifteen minutes later, red and blue lights bloomed on the horizon. A Sequim police car pulled up, then another. Officers stepped out, their faces serious but startled. Barbara waved them over.

"She just appeared out of nowhere," she said, still holding onto Luna protectively. "No shoes. She looks like she hasn't eaten in days."

One of the officers approached Luna carefully. "What's your name?" he asked.

Luna looked down at her feet, dirt crusted under her toenails. "Luna," she murmured. "Luna Mae."

He blinked, stunned. One of the other officers swore under his breath.

"Oh my god," the first said. "You've been missing for weeks."

She nodded, slowly. "I... I was so scared," she whispered. "I can't... remember everything."

Sequim PD radioed it in. She heard snippets-La Push... father notified... probable trauma victim... medical eval needed. They wrapped her in a blanket, placed her gently in the back of the cruiser, and kept the questions light. She stayed quiet. Confused. Shaken. That part was easy. It wasn't much different from how she felt inside.

As the cruiser pulled away, she turned her head to the window and caught a glimpse of the trees.

Nova was out there, hidden in the shadows, watching. She'd said she would be. That once Luna was in La Push and safe, she'd come find her again. They'd become close, like sisters. Nova never had a sister, neither did Luna, so it was perfect.

────୨ৎ────

The ride from Sequim to the La Push Police Station was silent, the only sounds the low hum of the engine and the occasional crackle of radio chatter. Luna Mae kept her eyes on the window, watching the trees blur past. Her hands were clenched tight in her lap beneath the too-big hoodie. The blanket they'd wrapped her in had started to itch, but she didn't move, didn't speak. She was too focused.

She could feel it-the subtle thrum of life all around her. The officer driving the cruiser had a steady heartbeat, his pulse like the ticking of a metronome. Outside, deer moved through the underbrush, squirrels darted up trees, and birds chirped with the frantic energy of morning.

But none of it compared to what she knew was coming.

When they pulled up to the small La Push station, a rush of something-dread, relief, terror-tore through her. She sat frozen as the door opened, and then a voice cracked through the air like lightning.

"Luna!"

She looked up.

Her father was running across the lot, his flannel shirt half-buttoned, eyes wild and brimming with tears. Her stepmother, Margaret, just steps behind him, a hand over her mouth in shock. Luna barely had time to stand before they engulfed her-arms wrapped tight around her, pulling her close, as if trying to fuse her back into existence.

"My baby," William choked, burying his face in her hair. "My girl. You're alive. You're alive-thank god, you're alive."

Margaret sobbed openly, her hands framing Luna's face before wrapping around her again. "We thought-we thought-"

Luna couldn't speak. She barely nodded.

Because they were so close.

Their warmth, their scent, their heartbeats-galloping inside their chests like thunder. Her throat burned. The thirst was deafening. Her mouth flooded with venom and her jaw tensed, sharp with restraint.

Nova had warned her this would happen. - "They're going to smell like your favorite meal," she'd said bluntly. "You'll want to bite them before they even speak."

But you won't. You can't.

Luna inhaled through her nose. Once. Twice. She focused on the feel of her father's calloused hands, on the tremble in Margaret's voice, on the weight of their love pressing into her.

Not food. Family.

She clenched her jaw tighter and held her breath until the thirst began to dull. When the officers gently pulled her family back and led them inside, Luna walked between them in a daze, refusing to let herself even glance at their necks. She couldn't. She wouldn't.

Inside, a buzz of disbelief rippled through the station. A few of the tribal officers who knew William personally just stood there, blinking, stunned. The chief was called in immediately, murmuring something about getting her checked by the clinic, about notifying tribal leadership, about trauma counseling.

But William refused to leave her side. He clutched her hand with an unshakable grip, like if he let go, she'd vanish again.

"I don't care what we need to do," he said, voice hoarse. "I'm not leaving her again. Not ever."

Luna nodded slowly. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"I'm really home?"

William's eyes filled again. "You're home, baby. You're safe."

But Luna wasn't so sure. She wasn't the same girl they'd lost.

────୨ৎ────

The small interrogation room was cold and sterile, the walls closing in as Luna Mae sat across from two officers. Their questions were sharp, probing - Why were you wandering alone? What happened to you? How did you get here? But Luna held her silence, eyes flicking to the door, heart pounding.

Her throat was dry, her skin clammy, but she fought to keep her composure. Then, as they pressed harder - their voices rising in frustration - a sudden wave of emotion crashed over her. Tears spilled freely down her cheeks, shaking sobs breaking through as if she couldn't hold it in any longer.

"I... I don't know," she whispered, voice cracking. "I'm scared. I just want to go home."

The officers exchanged glances, the softness in their eyes mingling with professional concern. One reached out, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "We just want to help you."

Just then, the door opened and her father stepped in, his face set and tired but fiercely protective.

"That's enough," William said quietly but firmly, his eyes locking with theirs. "She's safe now, and she's going home with me. No more questions. She's not ready. Please, respect that."

The room fell silent. The officers nodded, stepping back respectfully.

William crouched down beside Luna Mae, wrapping an arm around her trembling shoulders. "Let's get you home," he murmured.

Luna felt the weight of the moment - relief, exhaustion, and a faint spark of hope flickering in the darkness.

The car ride was quiet, the steady hum of the engine filling the space between Luna Mae and her father. Outside, the world blurred past-tall pines giving way to familiar roads, the edges of La Push creeping closer with every mile. Luna's heart hammered in her chest, equal parts relief and anxiety twisting inside her.

As soon as they pulled into the driveway, the door to the house flew open.

There she was.

Tahlia, standing on the porch, eyes wide and red-rimmed from crying. The moment Luna stepped out of the car, Tahlia rushed forward, arms opening like a lifeline.

Without hesitation, she engulfed Luna in a fierce, desperate hug. Luna felt the warmth and raw emotion pouring out of her best friend-Tahlia's sobs shaking her frame as she whispered between choked breaths, "I thought you were dead... I thought I'd lost you."

Luna held her tightly, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Tears stung her own eyes, but beneath it all was a fragile, unspoken promise-she was back, for now.

────୨ৎ────

Embry lay motionless on his bed, the thin blanket barely covering his gaunt frame. His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, unseeing, as the pale light of the afternoon filtered through the curtains. Days had slipped by without food or meaningful movement. His once strong, vibrant body was now fragile and hollow, the toll of grief and exhaustion weighing him down more than any physical injury ever could.

Downstairs, his mother paced nervously, wringing her hands. She'd been debating for hours whether to seek professional help, to check Embry into some kind of institution. But Sam was there, steady and calm, quietly insisting it would be a terrible idea-though he carefully skirted the truth of their supernatural world, knowing she wasn't ready to hear any of it. She only saw her baby boy slipping away.

Suddenly, the shrill ring of the phone pierced the heavy silence. Tiffany, hurried to answer. Her hand trembled as she reached for the receiver, but the moment she heard the voice on the other end, the phone slipped from her grasp, clattering against the floor.

"She's alive," she whispered.

Sam blinked. "What?"

"Luna Mae," Tiffany said, her voice shaking. "She's alive. She was found walking along 101 outside Sequim. The cops said she was dirty and disoriented but... but she's alive."

For the first time in five weeks, Tiffany felt the cold weight in her chest crack.

"We have to tell Embry," Sam said immediately, already stepping toward the room.

Tiffany hesitated, tears brimming in her eyes. "What if he... doesn't believe us?"

"Then he'll see for himself," Sam said quietly. "Come on."

They walked together to Embry's bedroom. The door was cracked open. The room smelled stale-like sweat, unwashed sheets, and something emptier than grief. Embry was curled up in bed, still in yesterday's clothes, his long limbs drawn up tightly, eyes fixed unblinking on the ceiling. He looked half-alive.

Tiffany sat beside him on the edge of the mattress and reached out, gently brushing the matted hair from his forehead. "Embry... baby," she said softly. "You need to listen to me."

He didn't move.

Sam stepped in, quiet but firm. "There's something you need to hear."

Still, Embry didn't respond. Tiffany swallowed and took a breath.

"Luna Mae's been found."

Embry blinked. Once. Slowly.

"She's alive," Tiffany whispered. "She's coming home."

His head snapped toward her so fast it startled her. His eyes, sunken and red-rimmed, locked onto hers.

"What?"

Sam stepped closer. "She was seen walking near Route 101. The police picked her up. It's her, Embry. We're not guessing this time. It's really her."

Embry sat up suddenly, a gasp tearing from his throat. "No. No-don't say that unless you know."

"We do," Sam said, voice steady. "They called her father. She's on her way home now."

For one second, Embry just stared at them. And then he was up, stumbling toward the door like he was waking from a nightmare. Tiffany reached out, trying to grab his arm.

"Embry, wait-"

But Sam put a hand out to stop her. "Let him go."

Embry's bare feet hit the front steps hard, nearly slipping on the damp wood, but he didn't stop. His heart thundered in his chest, disbelief and hope crashing together so violently he could barely breathe. The cold morning air sliced into his lungs, but he kept running. Faster. Harder. Toward the edge of the trees.

"Embry!" Sam's voice rang out behind him, but Embry didn't look back.

Branches clawed at his skin as he pushed through the underbrush, deeper into the forest. He just needed to phase. Needed to get there. To find her.

But his limbs felt heavier with each step, like they were made of lead. His vision blurred. He clenched his jaw, forcing his mind to reach for the wolf-but it wouldn't come. His body trembled, knees buckling. The air left his lungs in a weak gasp.

He stumbled into a clearing and fell to his knees, panting. "Please," he whispered to no one. "Please just let me get to her..."

The shift tried to spark-just a flicker-but it was like striking a wet match. Useless. He coughed and collapsed onto his side, the last of his strength bleeding out of him as black crept into the corners of his vision.

Sam burst through the trees moments later, just in time to catch Embry's unconscious body before it hit the forest floor completely. His arms wrapped around him, lowering him gently.

"Damn it, Embry," Sam muttered, pressing a hand to the younger wolf's neck to check his pulse. It was there. Thready, but steady.

He hoisted him up effortlessly, cradling Embry like a child. "You stubborn idiot..."

Carrying him back through the woods, Sam moved quickly but carefully, weaving through the trees until he reached his truck parked just down the road. He eased Embry into the passenger seat and then, once he was back at his house, carried him straight inside and laid him on the couch.

Pulling out his phone with one hand, he dialed. Paul answered on the first ring.

"Sam?"

"Get over here now," Sam said, breathless. "Bring Jared."

"What happened?"

"It's Embry," Sam said, eyes on the still, pale form on the couch. "He tried to phase. He collapsed. He's not waking up."

Paul didn't even respond. Just hung up.

Sam laid Embry gently on the couch, brushing the damp hair off his clammy forehead. Embry was deathly pale, lips tinged with gray, his breathing shallow but steady.

Minutes later, the door burst open and Paul and Jared rushed in, both panting like they'd run the whole way.

Paul took one look at Embry and muttered, "Shit. He's worse than I thought."

"He's out cold," Jared murmured, kneeling beside the couch. "We need to get him hydrated-"

"No," Paul interrupted, already pulling something small from his pocket. "There's a faster way."

Jared frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Defense mechanism," Paul said, striking a match with a sharp flick of his thumb. A small flame danced at the tip. "Wolves react to pain. Fast. It'll wake his ass up."

"That's cruel," Jared snapped, rising to his feet. "He's barely hanging on-"

"It's necessary," Paul growled. "He needs to eat. To live. He needs to know she's alive. And if this is the only way to reach him, then I'll take the hit."

Sam didn't say anything. He just watched, arms crossed, jaw clenched.

Paul turned back to Embry and, carefully, without hesitation, brought the lit match down and touched it gently to Embry's bare forearm.

The moment the flame seared his skin, Embry gasped-his whole body jolting violently as his eyes flew open.

He sat up with a choking sound, clutching his arm. His gaze darted wildly, until it landed on the television across the room.

The volume was low, but the caption was clear: "Local Girl Found Alive After Five Weeks Missing - Luna Mae Identified."

A shaky static video played of Luna being led out of the police station, wrapped in a blanket, head down. But it was her.

Embry's breath left him like a punch to the gut. "She's... really alive?"

Sam stepped forward, holding a plate of food-chicken, potatoes, something warm and heavy. He shoved it toward Embry with a glare.

"Eat," Sam said firmly. "Now."

Embry didn't even argue. He took the plate in trembling hands and started shoveling the food into his mouth like a starved animal. And for the first time in weeks-he had something to live for again. Her.