The First Kill

 

Selene’s muscles burned. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, but she didn’t stop moving. Didn’t dare.

Lucian was relentless. Every time she thought she had the upper hand, he reminded her how weak she still was. How much she had to learn. He didn’t hold back, didn’t let her rest, didn’t give her an inch of false confidence.

And Selene hated him for it.

But she hated herself more.

For the nights she had lain awake, believing Darius still loved her. For the moments she had let herself be soft, be weak, be blind.

Not anymore.

The next time Lucian feinted left, she saw through the trick and ducked under his arm, striking hard at his ribs. He barely flinched, but he nodded.

“Better.”

That was the closest thing to praise she had gotten in weeks.

Selene wiped the sweat from her brow, refusing to acknowledge the sharp ache in her ribs. Lucian had thrown her into training like a soldier in a war already lost, and she had no choice but to keep up. She was bruised, exhausted, but she wouldn’t break.

She couldn’t break.

Lucian stepped back, his golden eyes assessing. “You’ll be ready when the time comes.”

Selene didn’t ask when that would be. She already knew.

—

The attack came at dusk.

Selene smelled them first—wild, unwashed, the acrid scent of wolves who had lost themselves to their hunger. Rogue wolves.

Lucian stiffened beside her, his hand shifting toward the knife at his belt. “They’ll come fast. They won’t care who you used to be.”

Good. She didn’t either.

The first wolf lunged from the shadows, all muscle and snarling teeth. Selene dodged on instinct, but another one was already coming, forcing her backward. The forest was alive with movement—six, maybe seven of them.

Lucian moved like a shadow, knife flashing as he took down the first attacker. But Selene—Selene was alone.

Her breath came sharp and fast, but she planted her feet. No more running.

The second wolf charged, and she met it head-on.

They crashed together, her blade slicing across fur and flesh. A howl of pain—hers or theirs, she wasn’t sure. She could feel their weight pressing down, the raw strength of them. But she didn’t stop.

Instinct drove her. The training, the pain, the rage—all of it collided into one brutal moment.

Selene twisted, forcing the wolf off balance. Her knife found the soft place between its ribs, and she shoved.

Warmth spread over her hands. The wolf shuddered, gasped, then collapsed.

Dead.

Selene stumbled back, chest heaving. The scent of blood filled the air. It should have made her sick. It should have horrified her.

It didn’t.

Something inside her had shifted.

Lucian’s voice cut through the haze. “Another one’s coming.”

Selene turned. Her grip tightened around her blade.

 

Selene didn’t think.

She moved.

The second rogue came low, aiming for her legs. She jumped back just in time, twisting as she slashed downward. The wolf yelped, stumbling as her blade cut across its shoulder.

It wasn’t enough.

The rogue lunged again, faster this time. Selene barely dodged, feeling the sting of claws rake her side. She hit the ground hard, breath knocked from her lungs.

The rogue loomed over her, teeth bared, and for a single, frozen second, instinct screamed at her to submit.

But she wasn’t that Luna anymore.

She would not die on her back.

Selene drove her knife up—straight into its throat.

Hot blood gushed over her hands as the wolf let out a strangled sound, its body convulsing before going still.

Selene shoved it off, chest heaving. The scent of blood filled the air, thick and metallic, but her pulse was steady.

Her first kill.

She thought she would feel something. Horror. Guilt.

Instead, she felt alive.

A low chuckle came from behind her.

Lucian.

Selene turned, muscles still tensed for a fight. He was standing over two more bodies, blood streaked across his arms. His golden eyes gleamed in the low light, taking her in like she was something new.

Something dangerous.

“You hesitated,” he said, voice mild.

Selene wiped her knife clean on her torn shirt. “And I still won.”

Lucian tilted his head. “That you did.”

A scream split the air—a rogue, still alive, writhing on the ground. Selene looked down at the wounded wolf, its chest rising and falling in sharp, shallow gasps. It wasn’t dead yet.

Lucian watched her carefully. “Do you want me to finish it?”

Selene’s fingers curled around the hilt of her blade.

No.

She didn’t need Lucian to do it. Didn’t need him to carry this weight for her.

She knelt beside the rogue, meeting its wide, pain-filled eyes. Then, without hesitation, she drove her blade into its heart.

The wolf went still.

Selene exhaled, standing slowly. Her hands were steady. Her breath even.

Lucian’s lips curved into something like approval. “You’re learning.”

Selene met his gaze. “No,” she said quietly.

“I’m remembering.”

Lucian nodded once. “Good.”

He turned toward the darkened woods, the scent of blood thick in the air. “This was just the beginning.”

Selene followed him, stepping over the bodies without looking back.

She knew.

She was the beginning.

Lucian didn’t speak as they moved through the trees, their footsteps muffled by the damp earth. The night smelled of pine and blood, the air thick with the scent of death.

Selene flexed her fingers, feeling the dried blood crack on her skin. Her body ached, her wounds stinging with every breath, but she kept moving. Stopping meant thinking. Thinking meant feeling.

She wasn’t ready for that.

Lucian walked ahead, his movements fluid despite the fight they had just survived. He hadn’t so much as staggered when the rogues came. The man fought like he expected to be outnumbered.

Selene hated how much she wanted to ask why.

Instead, she focused on the sharp pain in her ribs, the burn in her muscles. She welcomed it.

Pain meant she was alive.

Lucian finally broke the silence. “You were reckless.”

Selene scoffed. “And you’re unbearable. I guess we both have our faults.”

Lucian turned, golden eyes glinting. “Recklessness will get you killed.”

Selene met his gaze, unflinching. “So will hesitation.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, to her surprise, Lucian smiled.

Not a full smile. Just the faintest curve of his lips, gone as quickly as it appeared.

“Maybe you are remembering.”

Selene pushed past him, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of an answer. The wind shifted, carrying the scent of smoke—old smoke, like burned-out embers.

A pack had been here. Recently.

Lucian inhaled sharply. “We need to move.”

Selene stiffened. “Why?”

Lucian didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was grim.

“Because we’re not the only hunters in these woods.”