Beneath the Alpha's Moon
Chapter 204: A Familiar Name

Chapter 204: A Familiar Name

Liam’s P.O.V.

The woman who took me in—her name was Beatrice, but she told me to call her Becky. She wasn’t what I expected. I thought she’d be another person who gave me a sandwich and sent me on my way. Instead, she pulled me into her tiny apartment above her café, gave me a blanket, and told me to take a warm bath. I didn’t argue. I had never felt so cold in my life.

She stood outside the bathroom door, telling me she left some clothes on the counter. "They might be a little big, but they’ll do for now," she said.

I could barely recognize myself when I looked in the mirror. Clean. No dirt, no grime. Just a pale boy with scars that stretched up into his hairline.

By the time I stepped out, Becky had hot soup waiting for me. "Eat first," she said. "Then we’ll talk."

I didn’t argue. I ate like I was starving. Because I was.

She didn’t ask questions right away. She let me sleep first. The softest bed I had ever touched.

The next morning, she sat me down at the kitchen table, hands folded in front of her. "So, sweetheart," she said. "Do you remember your name?"

I hesitated. My lips parted. But nothing came out.

She sighed. "That’s okay, honey. We’ll figure it out." She tapped her fingers against the table. "For now, you need something to go by."

She studied me, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. Then she smiled. "How about Noah?"

"Noah," I repeated. The name felt foreign, but not bad.

"You like it?" she asked.

I shrugged.

Becky smiled. "Noah it is."

The next few days were strange. Becky took me to the police station to report me as a missing person. I thought maybe they’d take me in, try to put me somewhere else, but they didn’t. They just wrote down a report and told us they’d let us know if someone came looking.

So I stayed.

Becky put me to work in her café. "Nothing too crazy," she said. "Just wiping down tables, running plates."

I had never worked a day in my life, but it felt...nice. The routine. The warmth. The smell of fresh bread and coffee.

Becky never pushed. She let me be quiet when I wanted to be. But she always made sure I ate. Made sure I slept.

I started to feel safe.

Then a week later, they came.

Two men walked into the café. They were tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in clean button-ups. One had dark hair, slicked back, the other was blond. They scanned the room before their eyes landed on me.

"There he is," the blond one breathed. He smiled, something relieved and warm in his expression. "Brad."

I blinked. "What?"

The dark-haired man stepped forward. "You’re Brad," he said. "Our little brother."

Becky looked between us, her brow furrowed. "Who are you?"

The blond one put a hand on his chest. "I’m Jared, and this is Tommy. We’ve been looking for Brad for weeks." He turned to me. "You got lost, kid. We thought we’d never find you."

I didn’t move.

Becky narrowed her eyes. "The police never mentioned brothers."

Jared reached into his pocket and pulled out a photo. It was an old picture of a kid that...kind of looked like me.

Becky studied it. She exhaled. "Oh, honey," she whispered, looking at me. "You have a family."

Something in my chest tightened. A family.

Jared held out his arms. "Come on, Brad. Let’s go home."

I hesitated. Becky squeezed my shoulder. "It’s okay, sweetheart."

So I went.

They drove me far. Too far. Into the woods.

And then everything changed.

Jared pulled the car to a stop, and Tommy got out. The second I stepped out, they grabbed me.

Jared shoved me forward, and my stomach hit the ground. My head spun. I tried to scramble up, but hands pinned me down.

"You really thought we were your brothers?"

Tommy’s smirk twisted into something cruel, something that made my stomach drop.

I felt the world tilt beneath me.

"You’re gonna make us a lot of money, kid."

Everything inside me went cold.

No. No, this couldn’t be happening.

I took a shaky step back, but hands clamped down on my arms, iron-like grips that sent panic surging through my veins. My breath hitched. My lungs forgot how to work.

"No—please, don’t—"

They weren’t listening.

Tommy’s fingers curled into my shirt, dragging me forward as if I weighed nothing. My pulse slammed against my ribs, a frantic, stuttering thing.

I fought. I kicked, twisted, tried to wrench free—but they were stronger. There were too many of them.

That was when I heard, "Do not be afraid. I will protect you."

A voice. Deep, steady, powerful. But it wasn’t coming from the men. It wasn’t coming from anywhere. It was inside me.

And then suddenly I felt, pain.

A pain so violent, so overwhelming, it shattered everything. It tore through my body like wildfire, setting my bones ablaze. My skin stretched, pulled, tore—my vision blurred. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.

And then, the world was red.

I could smell them. Their sweat. Their fear. It was sharp, intoxicating. My heartbeat slowed—not with panic, but with something else. Something deep. Something ancient.

I moved before I could think.

They screamed.

And when the screaming stopped, I was running. My paws—paws—thudded against the earth. The wind roared in my ears. The scent of blood clung to my fur.

I didn’t stop until the forest thinned, until the darkness receded, until my body twisted and cracked and I was suddenly—human again.

I was naked.

I sucked in a breath, cold air burning my lungs. My hands shook. My legs felt like they weren’t mine. My head was a whirlwind of terror, confusion, and something raw.

I ran.

I ran through the rainy streets, past people who gasped, who shouted, who pointed—but I didn’t care. My feet were numb. My skin was frozen.

Becky’s house. I needed to get to Becky’s house.

I stumbled onto the porch soaked to my bones, barely able to lift my arms as I pounded against the door.

It swung open.

"Noah—?" Becky’s eyes went wide. Her voice shook.

And then I collapsed.

She caught me, her arms wrapping around me, pulling me inside, pressing a blanket around my shoulders. Her warmth, her scent—coffee beans and honey—it was the first thing that felt real.

I told her everything.

Every trembling word, every broken piece of the nightmare.

Becky sat across from me on the couch, her hands gripping a steaming mug of tea she had forgotten to drink. The room was softly lit, the only source of warmth coming from the small fireplace crackling in the corner. The rain outside tapped softly against the window, but the storm inside me was louder.

I spoke in a low voice, my throat raw from running, from screaming, from everything. My fingers twisted in the blanket she had wrapped around me, my nails digging into the fabric as I forced myself to relive it—the betrayal, the pain, the change.

When I finished, Becky’s face crumpled like a house of cards. Her lips parted, but no sound came out at first. Her fingers shook as she set the mug aside, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I let you go with them," she whispered, her voice brittle. She reached for my hands, gripping them tightly, like she could anchor me to the present, keep me from slipping away. "I let them take you."

I swallowed past the lump in my throat, shaking my head. "You didn’t know."

Her lips trembled. "I should have."

I could see it—the guilt. It was written all over her face, in the crease between her brows, in the way she clutched my hands as if afraid I would disappear.

She pulled me forward, wrapping her arms around me, holding me so tight it almost hurt. But I didn’t pull away, I let her hold me.

Becky smelled like cinnamon and old books, like home. She made me feel safe.

She pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. Hers were fierce, burning with a kind of rage I had never seen in her before.

"No one’s taking you again," she vowed. "Not without proof. Not ever again."

Her words settled deep into my bones, a promise forged in tears.

That night, I couldn’t sleep.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my body aching in ways I didn’t understand. My muscles felt stretched, my bones heavy, like I wasn’t meant to be in this shape. Like I was something else, something more.

The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic tick of the clock on the wall and the distant patter of rain against the rooftop. But then—

"We are one."

The voice. Him.

I swallowed hard, my heart thudding painfully against my ribs.

"Who... what are you?" I whispered into the darkness.

He went quiet, and then he replied, "I do not know."

A cold shiver ran through me, settling in my spine.

I took a slow, shaky breath. "Then I’ll name you."

The name came from somewhere deep inside me, like a whisper from a forgotten part of myself.

"North."

A hum of approval, deep and resonant.

"I like that."

A strange warmth spread through my chest. It was terrifying, but... not unwelcome.

A normal person should have been terrified of hearing a voice in their head and having a creature living inside their body but strangely I wasn’t afraid. All I could think of was, I wasn’t alone in this.

A month passed. A month of healing. Of learning. Of listening to the voice inside me.

I wasn’t human. Not anymore. Maybe I never was.

I was faster than before. Stronger. Any time I had a cut on my skin, it faded within hours, sometimes minutes. If I closed my eyes and focused, I could feel the world in a way I never had before—the scent of people, their heartbeats, the shift in their emotions.

But I was still just... me.

Noah. Whoever the hell I was supposed to be.

*******

One day, She walked into the café.

I felt her before I saw her.

It was like the air changed, a subtle shift that sent a ripple through my senses.

I looked up, mid-wipe, my hand absently scrubbing at a table that was already clean.

She stood in the doorway, scanning the café.

She was likely my age. Maybe younger. Long, curly light brown hair that spilled over her shoulders, unatural silver eyes that gleamed even in the dim lighting.

And then she saw me.

Her entire face lit up, as if she had just found something she thought was lost forever.

"Liam!"

The rag slipped from my fingers. It hit the floor with a soft plop, but I barely heard it over the pounding in my ears.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

That name sounded familiar.

But she—this girl—I didn’t know her.

So why did she look at me like I was the answer to every question she had ever asked?

Who the hell was she?