Moonlight In Chains (Trinity and Asher) novel Chapter 115

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**TITLE: The Day He Forgot He Hated Me by Evangeline Marrow**
**CHAPTER 115**

In the aftermath of the shadows’ departure, a profound stillness enveloped the packhouse, an almost surreal tranquility that felt foreign after so long. It was as if the very essence of our home had shifted. For the first time in years, I inhaled deeply, the tension that had once gripped my chest finally easing its relentless hold. Outside, the forest thrummed with life, a symphony of birdsong and the gentle rustle of leaves dancing in the breeze, while the sun poured its golden warmth over the clearing, creating a sanctuary of peace.

During those initial days of calm, I wandered through the packhouse and the surrounding fields, searching for a sense of normalcy that had eluded me for so long. Asher remained by my side, not out of obligation but from a genuine desire to be close. His presence was a steadying force, an anchor I hadn’t realized I desperately needed.

Arlo, on the other hand, immersed himself in studying the remnants of the shadow energy and the seal that had contained it. Even with the shadows vanquished, he was cautious, determined not to leave any stone unturned. He meticulously documented his findings, mapping the areas where the energy had been most potent and scrutinizing every boundary around the packhouse. His movements were deliberate, slower than usual, a testament to the lingering fear of how swiftly the shadows had once emerged to strike.

Dennis, ever the protector, attempted to relax, but the weight of recent events hung heavily on his shoulders. He patrolled the packhouse, issuing instructions and checking on everyone’s safety, yet I could see the subtle lines etched into his face, the way he would falter mid-sentence when he thought no one was paying attention. It was a reminder that even the strongest among us bore scars from the battle.

I made it a point to engage him in conversation, asking about the pack, the rebuilding efforts, and what lay ahead. While he didn’t divulge everything—old habits die hard—he provided enough information to reassure me that the pack wouldn’t crumble now that the primary threat had been eliminated.

Gage was gradually reclaiming his sense of normalcy as well. Lilly remained locked away in the dungeon, her fate still undecided. After her treachery and attempts on our lives, it seemed almost inevitable that she would face execution.

As I observed the joyful faces of couples wandering the pack, laughter ringing out like music, a pang of longing washed over me. Asher must have sensed my gaze, for he tightened his grip on my hand and whispered, “We’ll have our moments too.” His gray eyes radiated warmth and calm, a protective shield against the world. I leaned into him, drawing strength from his unwavering energy.

Our first training sessions after the shadows felt tentative, as if we were still finding our footing. My body ached from the final battle, and Asher was patient, allowing me to regain my strength at my own pace. We practiced movements, honing our energy control, and deepening the bond between us. Each session concluded with him pulling me close, ensuring I didn’t push myself too far.

Arlo joined us whenever he could, mostly taking on the role of an observer. Though he lacked our powers, his understanding of energy was profound. He offered insights, pointed out weaknesses, and reminded us to maintain our focus. Yet, I noticed the way he would sometimes scratch at his wrist, a nervous habit that betrayed his inner turmoil.

As the days rolled on, the pack began to settle into a new rhythm. Young wolves trained with a newfound confidence, while the older members busied themselves repairing walls and reinforcing boundaries. The chaos that had once engulfed the packhouse gradually dissipated, replaced by a sense of order and purpose.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day of training, Dennis summoned me to his office. The familiar scent of aged wood and herbs filled the air, a comforting aroma that evoked memories of my childhood. He gestured for me to take a seat across from him, his demeanor serious.

“Trinny,” he began, his voice carefully measured, “I need to ask you something. I… I want to know if you’re still angry with me. For not revealing who your parents were, or about Amy.”

I studied him intently, the weight of old memories flooding back—betrayal, anger, confusion. “I still don’t trust you,” I replied, my voice steady. “And you can’t blame me for that.”

He nodded slowly, a look of understanding crossing his features. “I know. I would feel the same if our roles were reversed.”

I leaned back in my chair, striving to let the anger dissipate. “I’m trying, Dennis. I’m trying to maintain peace in the packhouse. I’m not looking to stir trouble. I just want to live—like everyone else.”

A faint smile crept onto his face. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

After our conversation, I found solace outside the packhouse, often walking with Asher through the forest or sitting quietly by the lake under the watchful gaze of the moon. The bond between us felt lighter, unburdened by fear and the constant threat of danger.

Arlo continued his diligent work in the library, compiling notes on what he had learned about the shadows, the seal, and the lingering energy. Sometimes I joined him, asking questions and helping him brainstorm possibilities. We shared laughter when he grew frustrated with texts that seemed nonsensical. Gradually, he began to reclaim his humanity, no longer just a frightened observer but an integral part of the pack.

One bright morning, Asher and I trained longer than usual. The sun rose, casting a soft orange glow over the forest, and for the first time in weeks, I felt powerful. Every movement was precise, every flow of energy sharp and invigorating.

We were growing stronger, and Asher’s satisfaction was palpable. He didn’t need to say a word; he simply reached for my hand, and that quiet connection thrummed between us, more vibrant than ever.

But the peace we had fought for was fragile. Arlo, ever observant, detected subtle anomalies—strange energy readings in the forest, faint traces of shadow energy lingering near the sealed portals. Nothing overtly dangerous yet, but enough to keep him on edge.

One evening, as we gathered around the fire, Arlo shared his latest findings. “I’ve traced a few energy lines that seem… unstable. They’re not the shadows themselves, but they’re connected to the places where the shadows originated.”

I frowned, concern knitting my brow. “Do you think someone is trying to resurrect them?”

Arlo shook his head, uncertainty clouding his features. “I don’t know. But it’s worth monitoring. We can’t afford to be reckless.”

Even in this newfound calm, I kept my senses alert. Asher noticed my vigilance and never let me wander far alone, and I didn’t protest. Trusting him with my life felt far easier than trusting anyone else. This wasn’t merely about survival anymore; it was about preserving our peace, and I was determined to protect it.

Days turned into weeks, and the pack adapted, finding their rhythm. Training sessions became regular, patrols less fraught, and younger wolves learned about energy, bonds, and safety without fear.

Asher and I spent countless hours together—sometimes training, other times wandering through the forest, letting the wind and sunlight fill our lungs. The long nights served as reminders of the incredible bond we shared. I felt like myself again—the Trinity who could laugh, breathe, and dare to hope.

Arlo remained close, his sharp mind helping us prepare for any unforeseen challenges. No longer the frightened boy from the shadow realm, he had found his place within the pack. Dennis observed quietly, approving of our teamwork and only intervening when absolutely necessary.