Beneath the Alpha's Moon
Chapter 203: Lost and Found

Chapter 203: Lost and Found

Mai’s P.O.V.

The night I left was quiet. Too quiet.

The moment my feet touched the damp soil outside the pack’s borders, I felt it—the weight of what I’d done.

I’d left them.

Ollie, my parents, my pack. I’d left everything behind.

Including my one chance to meet the Moon Goddess on my birthday and rid myself of the witch that had plagued my mind for as long as I could remember. The one who kept my wolf trapped inside me, whispering things I wanted to ignore but couldn’t.

But what choice did I have? The whispers were getting stronger. Louder.

"Kill. Hurt. Spill blood."

And they weren’t going to stop until I gave in.

I wouldn’t let that happen.

I tugged the hood of my jacket over my head and took a shaky breath, eyes fixed on the long, winding road ahead.

Finding Liam was my only option.

Because if I didn’t, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could fight this thing inside me.

Or how much longer I’d even want to.

*********

One Month Later

The streets blurred as I stumbled forward, my legs aching from hours—days—of walking.

I’d searched everywhere.

Hospitals. Schools. Homeless shelters. Abandoned buildings. Forests.

Nothing.

Liam had vanished. Like he never even existed.

I carried his picture everywhere, holding it up to strangers, my voice growing hoarse from asking the same question over and over again.

"Have you seen him?"

Most people didn’t care.

Some pitied me.

A few even tried to help.

But no one had answers.

I was losing hope.

I rubbed my temples, trying to push back the headache forming behind my eyes. I hadn’t eaten properly in days, and my body felt like it was starting to give up on me.

And then, out of nowhere I heard—

"You look like hell, kid."

I turned sharply.

An old man sat on a bench under a flickering streetlamp, his sharp gray eyes watching me from beneath the brim of a weathered hat. He was dressed in layers, his coat patched up in places, his boots scuffed from years of wear.

I blinked at him, gripping Liam’s picture tighter. "I don’t have time for this."

"Looks like you don’t have time for much of anything," he mused, nodding toward my hands. "You’re searching for someone?"

I hesitated. People who showed sudden interest in my search usually fell into two categories—those who wanted to help and those who wanted something in return.

Still, I was desperate.

I stepped forward, holding out the photo. "His name is Liam Rivers. Seventeen. Blond hair. Blue eyes."

The old man studied the picture for a long moment. Then, instead of answering, he lifted his gaze back to mine.

"You look like someone who hasn’t slept in weeks."

I scowled. "That’s not—"

"My grandson and I help folks like you sometimes," he interrupted. "People looking for someone. People who got nowhere else to turn."

I stared at him, my pulse quickening.

"Come on," he said, standing up with a grunt. "I won’t bite. Name’s Thomas, by the way. My grandson’s Fred."

I hesitated.

It could be a trap.

But I was part fae, witch and werewolf. I could handle myself if it came down to it, and besides, I was running out of options.

I exhaled slowly, then followed him.

Thomas’s house was small, worn-down but cozy. A fire crackled in the hearth, pouring warm light against the walls.

"Hey, old man, you bring home another stray?"

I looked up.

A boy leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. He was tall, maybe a year older than me, with dark brown hair and sharp hazel eyes that flickered with curiosity.

"Fred, meet Mai," Thomas said, settling into his chair. "She’s looking for someone. We’re going to help her."

Fred’s gaze swept over me. "She looks like she could use a good meal and about twelve hours of sleep first."

I bristled. "I’m fine."

Fred raised an eyebrow. "Sure, you are."

Thomas chuckled. "She’s stubborn. I like her already."

I exhaled sharply, dropping my bag onto the floor. "You’re really going to help me?"

Thomas leaned back in his chair. "We’ll do what we can. But first, tell us everything."

And so I did.

I told them about Liam. About how he meant everything to me. About how he was the only real friend I had in my life and how I couldn’t lose him.

I didn’t tell them everything, of course. I didn’t tell them I was a werewolf. I didn’t tell them about Eldur or the whispers.

Or the fact that my own pack was probably looking for me right now.

By the time I was done, Fred was staring at me like I’d grown another head.

"You really ran away from home to find this guy?"

I lifted my chin. "He’s important to me."

Fred’s expression softened, but he covered it up quickly. "Well, you’re lucky. My grandpa’s a sucker for lost causes."

Thomas smirked. "I prefer the term hopeless cases."

I let out a breathless laugh, and for the first time since I ran away from home, something inside me felt a little lighter.

********

Fred and I searched every day.

We printed missing posters, plastering them across town. We talked to anyone who would listen. We scoured every possible place Liam could be.

Days turned into weeks.

Still, nothing.

"You know," Fred mused one evening, kicking at a rock as we walked down the street. "You never really told me why Liam’s so important to you."

I glanced at him. "I told you. He is my one and only friend."

Fred studied me. "And that’s it?"

I hesitated. Of course, that wasn’t it.

Liam was more than just a friend.

He was home. He was safety.

He was the one person who had looked past the fear and hurt I caused him, and saw me. The only one who didn’t see me as a monster.

And without him, I felt like I was unraveling.

But saying all that out loud felt... impossible.

So I just shrugged. "Yeah. That’s it."

Fred didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push.

Instead, he smirked. "Well, that’s a hell of a way to chase after a guy. I gotta say, it’s kind of romantic."

I rolled my eyes. "You’re annoying."

"And you’re bad at taking a compliment."

I shoved him, and he laughed.

It was strange, the way I had started to feel... comfortable here. Fred was annoying, sure. But he was also kind. In a way I hadn’t expected.

Thomas was even better. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t push me for answers. He just... helped.

It was the first time in my life that I felt like someone was helping me just because they wanted to.

And that terrified me because I couldn’t stay.

Not forever. Not until I found Liam.

Not until I had him back.

*********

It was a cold night when the whispers came back full force. The whispers had never stopped. No, instead, they grew louder every night.

And tonight... they won.

I woke up in a cold sweat, my body moving before my mind could catch up. The whispers coiled around me like vines, twisting into my thoughts, slithering under my skin.

"Kill."

No.

"Do it."

No. No, I wouldn’t. Not here. Please.

My fingers twitched as I stepped out of bed, moving as if something else had taken control. My feet glided silently across the wooden floor of the old man’s house. Thomas and Fred, had taken me in when I had nowhere else to go. They had helped me search for Liam without asking too many questions. They were kind. They were good people.

I couldn’t hurt them. Please.

"Kill!" The whispers grew louder.

I pushed the old man’s bedroom door open, my breath slow and measured. Moonlight streamed through the window, spreading across the room. Thomas slept peacefully, his old, frail body rising and falling with each breath.

"End him."

I couldn’t stop myself. My fingers curled around his throat and I squeezed.

A sharp gasp filled the room and his eyes flew open, confusion flashing before terror set in. He clawed at my hands, weakly struggling, but I tightened my grip, pressing down. His lips moved, a weak whisper escaped them.

"Mai...?"

Something inside me cracked and the I heard—

THWACK!

Blinding pain exploded in my skull. My vision blurred, and I staggered backward, clutching my head. The coppery scent of blood filled my nose. I turned in a daze, my eyes meeting Fred’s wide, horrified ones. He was holding a wooden bat, his knuckles white.

The old man coughed, gasping for air, his wrinkled hand still clutching his bruised neck. His eyes—God, his eyes—were filled with fear.

Fear of me.

I stared at my hands. My hands. The same ones that had almost killed them.

A strangled sob caught in my throat. I had blanked out again. I had lost control.

I ran.

I didn’t stop to explain. I didn’t stop to grab my shoes. I barely managed to grab my bag before I teleported into the night, the echoes of Fred’s voice chasing me.

"Mai, wait—!"

I vanished.

When I opened my eyes again, I had landed on an unfamiliar street, my legs barely catching me as I staggered forward. The pounding in my head was unbearable, blood trickling down the side of my face. I sucked in sharp breaths, gripping a street lamp for support.

I couldn’t go back.

I had to find Liam before I lost myself completely.

I pulled out his picture, holding it like a lifeline. Where are you? Then I blacked out again.

The next day, as soon as sun rose, I walked through the streets, following my usual pattern—schools, hospitals, shelters, cafés. I asked. I showed the picture. I searched. Luckily, my head injury had healed over night so I had nothing stopping me.

Then, just as the day was slipping into afternoon, I saw him. I really saw him.

My breath caught.

He was standing behind the counter of a small coffee shop, wearing a black apron over a brown sweater. His blond hair was longer, curling slightly at the ends. He was taking an order, nodding politely, his voice too soft for me to hear through the glass window.

I forgot how to breathe.

I didn’t think. I didn’t care. I ran.

The bell chimed violently as I threw open the café door. Heads turned, but I didn’t care.

"Liam!"

He barely had time to react before I launched myself at him, arms wrapping around his waist. I buried my face into his chest, sobbing. His scent hit me like a wave—coffee, vanilla, and citrus. Warm. Safe. Real.

I found him.

I found him.

My tears soaked into his sweater as I clung to him like a drowning person. "I thought—I thought I lost you," I choked out, voice trembling. "I searched everywhere, I—"

He whole body stiffened.

I pulled back, blinking through my tears. Liam was staring at me. But not the way I expected.

Not with relief. Not with recognition.

No.

He looked... confused.

"Uh..." His brows furrowed. "Do I know you?"

My heart stopped.

My whole world tilted.

I felt myself sway, my breath hitching in my throat.

"Liam..." My voice cracked. "It’s me."

He took a half-step back, glancing around awkwardly. The café had gone silent. Customers were staring. The barista beside him, a middle-aged woman, frowned.

"Liam?" I whispered.

His blue eyes searched my face, hesitant. "I’m sorry," he said slowly. "I think you have the wrong person."

No.

No, no, no, no, no—

I felt like I had been struck by lightning.

He didn’t remember me. He didn’t remember me!

The whispers stirred in my head.

"He’s lying. He’s playing with you."

No. Liam would never.

"Make him remember. Make him bleed."

I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking.

I couldn’t breathe.

I found him.

But he was still lost.

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