Whispers of the Crescent Moon

The nightmare was the same. Flames licking at the walls, the acrid smell of smoke, and your mother's hysterical cries. You were small, hiding under the heavy dinner table, the sounds of chaos echoing around you. Then, the horrifying sight: your father, Alpha of the Crescent pack, his face a mask of rage, his hand around your mother's throat. The glint of steel, the scream, and then, only silence and fire.

You jolted awake, heart pounding, sweat slicking your skin. Sonny, your roommate and friend, was shaking your shoulder, his face etched with concern.

"Kace, Kace, dude calm down," he said, his voice rough but steady.

Your vision cleared, focusing on Sonny's familiar face. He chuckled, a nervous sound. "You look like you just ran a marathon. Aren't you a little too old to be having nightmares?"

You rubbed your face, trying to shake off the lingering terror. "Sonny, what are you doing in my room?"

"I could hear you all the way from the gym," he replied, his expression turning serious. "Maybe it's time you see a therapist about—"

"No, I'm fine," you interrupted, shaking your head. "It's just a dream."

He studied you for a moment. "Okay. In case you change your mind, I could hook you up with one."

After Sonny left, you headed to the bathroom, the phantom smell of smoke still in your nostrils. Thirteen years. Thirteen years of the same nightmare. Even though your mother was alive, the dream felt chillingly real. Your father, the brutal Alpha, and your brother, Zaynab, the ruthless hound, were still out there. You had left the pack, seeking a normal life among humans, but the past, like the nightmare, refused to let go.