14. The Moon's Pull

                                    

                                          
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Diana's POV
Diana sat at the edge of the bed, Benjamin's words circling her mind like vultures: It's not just you—it's all of humanity at risk. She rubbed her hands together, trying to shake the cold feeling that clung to her skin, even though the night had long settled into a quiet calm. Angelo was downstairs fixing up the damage and he was in alpha mode spitting out orders. He had ordered me to get some rest but after everything my mind was reeling.
The entity inside her had always felt personal—a battle waged in the dark corners of her mind, one she thought only she could lose. But now, knowing the stakes were higher than just her sanity, the weight of it pressed down on her chest like a vice.
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her mind slipping back to a time she tried hard to forget: her captivity at Benjamin's place. During those days of isolation, she had spent most of her time trying to keep the entity at bay. But the hours between those battles were filled with books—ancient tomes and journals scattered throughout the dim, cluttered study Benjamin had left her to explore.
One book, in particular, came rushing back to her now, as if summoned by the conversation tonight: The Cycle of the Moon and the Beast Within.
She remembered the leathery feel of the pages beneath her fingers, the hand-drawn diagrams of moons in various phases, and the curling script that detailed an ancient truth—one that she hadn't fully understood at the time but now chilled her to her core.
We are magical beings tethered to both nature and the moon. Our power is not fixed; it shifts like tides, waxing and waning. The words were etched into her memory. But when that delicate balance—mental, physical, or spiritual—shatters, we become slaves to the pull of the moon.
Diana closed her eyes, the weight of that revelation settling over her. Werewolves weren't just creatures born to shift under the moon's light. They carried something raw, something unpredictable inside them—a beast that could awaken if their equilibrium broke. It was like a switch waiting to flip, and once it did, there was no turning back.
The book had warned that when the balance failed, the wolf within would twist into something darker, fiercer: a rogue. Diana had assumed, back then, that rogues were simply wolves who gave in to violence, to primal urges. But now she understood it wasn't just that. It was a fundamental shift in who they were, one that could happen without warning.
There was no gradual descent. Just a snap—like a bone breaking clean in half. A beast untethered, feral and destructive.
She stood and began to pace the room, trying to process what it all meant. The entity inside her wasn't just dangerous to her—it was a threat to everyone. If she lost control, if she gave in even for a moment, she wouldn't just hurt herself. She could become the catalyst that unbalanced everything.
And it wasn't just her. Every werewolf carried that same risk. If they were too overwhelmed, too broken—whether by fear, grief, anger, or even physical weakness—their inner beast could overtake them. It didn't matter how strong they were. No one was immune.
The moon wasn't just a guiding light for their shifts; it was an ancient force pulling at their core, demanding release. Normally, the cycle was manageable. But if something disrupted that balance, the moon's pull could become overpowering, dragging them into darkness.
She stopped pacing, her breath shaky, and pressed her palm to the window. Outside, the forest stretched out in shadows beneath the night sky. The moon hung heavy and full, casting its silvery glow over the treetops.
A thought gnawed at the edge of her mind: How many others were teetering on that same edge? How many werewolves in the pack—wolves she trusted, wolves she loved—were one bad day away from snapping? Could she see the signs if it happened to someone else? Would anyone see the signs in her?
Her reflection stared back at her from the glass, and she didn't like what she saw. She looked tired, worn—like someone constantly balancing on a tightrope, with no safety net beneath her.
The entity inside her stirred faintly, a flicker of darkness that felt like a low growl in the back of her mind. It was always there, lurking just out of reach, waiting for the moment she faltered.
And now she knew: if she fell, the consequences wouldn't stop with her. She could pull everyone else down with her.
A cold shiver crawled down her spine. Benjamin's words echoed in her mind: It's a threat to all of humankind.
She thought of Angelo—how steady he had been, how he smiled at her with warmth even when he could sense her struggle. He believed in her, trusted her. But did he truly understand the risk?
Diana closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against the window. The book's warnings haunted her: The wolf and the beast within are two halves of the same soul. It is balance that keeps us sane, and balance that keeps us safe. Lose it, and the beast will consume you—and everything in its path.
She had kept herself balanced so far, fighting every step of the way. But how long could she keep it up? How long before the entity inside her wore her down enough for the moon's pull to win?
And if she fell... who would stop her?
She exhaled a shaky breath, her fingers curling into fists. Whatever happened, she couldn't afford to lose. Not now. Not ever.
Because if she did—if the entity consumed her—she wouldn't just become another rogue. She'd become something far worse. And the world might not survive it.