The first of Viktor's altered wolves cleared our barrier with impossible speed. Its body was wrong—limbs too long, joints bending backwards, skin rippling as partial shifts cascaded across its form. One of our guards, raised his silver-loaded rifle and fired. The bullet hit center mass.The creature didn't even flinch."It's not stopping," He said, backing up. "Why isn't it—"The altered wolf's jaw unhinged, splitting its face in half. Before Mark could fire again, it had him. Teeth sank into his shoulder, through the tactical vest like it was paper. But it didn't just bite—it started shifting while its mouth was full of Mark's flesh. Fangs extended, retracted, extended again, shredding meat from bone.Mark's scream cut off in a gurgle.'Well, that's new,' Rona commented grimly. 'And disgusting. Can we kill it now?'Three more guards opened fire. Silver bullets tore through the creature's body, but it kept eating, kept shifting. Only when they finally hit its brain did it collapse.Bu
The temple stairs were slick with blood. Three of Viktor's rejects had followed us down, their bodies contorting as they moved. One's spine cracked audibly with each step, vertebrae pushing through skin before being dragged back in.'Stop admiring the freaks and kill them,' Rona growled.I shifted—not full wolf, just what I needed. Claws extended as I met the first one. It lunged with too many teeth in a jaw that split four ways. I ducked under its strike, drove my claws up through its throat and into its brain. No healing from that.Silas took the second one with a silver blade to the eye. But the third—the third got past us. It caught one of Kane's men who'd followed us down. We watched as it literally pulled him apart, its muscles shifting and multiplying as it tore.The sound of Viktor's approach cut through the man's screams. His footsteps were wrong, arrhythmic. Like he was shifting with each step."Little Stella," his voice echoed down the stairs. "Always running to the temple.
Angela's blood spread across the temple floor, mixing with the silver light from the ritual platform. The black chemicals in her system made it steam where it touched stone.'Finish it,' Rona urged, her voice straining as the ritual pulled at our connection. 'Before he—'Viktor's laugh cut her off. The sound rattled out like breaking glass. His body convulsed, muscles bulging and splitting his skin as he grew. Eight legs burst from his torso—four wolf, four human, bent at unnatural angles. His chest split vertically, revealing a second mouth lined with both fangs and human teeth. His original head remained, but the skin had peeled back, leaving exposed muscle that pulsed and shifted. Three more wolf heads emerged from his shoulders, their snouts too long, jaws unhinging to show tongues that writhed like snakes. Yellow eyes opened across his body—in his chest, along his arms, between the joints of his legs. Black veins spread from the injection ports in his neck, carrying chemicals tha
(Stella Harrison) The world burned in silence. At least, that’s how it felt as I stumbled through the wreckage of what had once been Blood Moon territory. My ears still rang from the cacophony of battle—snarls, screams, the wet tear of flesh—but now there was only ash and the metallic tang of blood clotting in the air. My blood. Silver and red streaked my arms, crusted under my nails, a reminder of what I’d lost. Rona. Her absence carved a hollow ache in my chest, like someone had reached in and ripped out a lung. I kept waiting for her voice to slice through the quiet, some crude joke or biting remark about the state of my hair. But there was nothing. Just the wind whistling through shattered windows and the distant wail of sirens. Humans were coming. I’d seen the helicopters first, their spotlights cutting through the smoke like accusing fingers. Then the phones—dozens of them, held aloft by trembling hands from rooftops and shattered cars. Cameras zoomed in on the aftermath: Vik
The frost on the windows glowed blue in the predawn light, jagged crystals clawing at the glass like skeletal fingers. I hadn’t slept. Couldn’t. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it again—the True Enemy’s void-black gaze, Viktor’s melting flesh, Silas’s blood pooling on temple stone. The fire had died hours ago, leaving the cabin air sharp with pine resin and the metallic tang of my own sweat. Andrea’s ghost flickered by the hearth, her form wavering between corporeal and smoke. She’d been silent since materializing, those moonlit eyes tracking my every twitch. I hated how she looked at me—like I was still the scrawny kid who’d cried when her first shift tore open her palms. I snapped first. “Where were you?” The words tore free, raw and serrated. Andrea’s spectral shoulders stiffened. “Stella—” “When he locked me in the cellar for three days after my first failed shift? When he sold me to that fur trader from the Iron Claw pack because I was ‘defective’?” My voice climbed, scra
Age 15. The Ice Cave. The wind is a living thing here—a feral, snarling beast that gnaws at the edges of the world. It claws through layers of sealskin and caribou hide, needling my bones with a cold so sharp it feels like betrayal. My breath crystallizes before it leaves my lips, and the snow underfoot groans like a dying animal. The meat strapped to my chest is a furnace, its warmth leaching through my furs, a guilty secret pressed against my ribs. Rabbit. Fresh-killed. Stolen. The ice cave is a jagged scar in the glacier’s flank, its entrance half-buried under drifts. I dig with bare hands, the cold searing my fingertips raw. Inside, the walls glisten like the throat of some primordial creature, veins of cobalt and iron ore threading through the ice. Lira huddles in the deepest recess, her body swallowed by a nest of mangy pelts. Fox, maybe. Wolf. Discards. “Viktor?” Her voice is a moth’s wing, brittle and fraying. I toss the rabbit at her feet. The meat thuds dully, steam
The tundra is a liar. It promises nothing but takes everything—your warmth, your voice, your name. By the time the Unbound found me, seven years had hardened into ice inside my chest. Seven years of chewing leather belts until my gums bled, licking frost off jagged rocks just to wet my tongue. Seven years of listening to Vorath’s voice coil around my thoughts like smoke, whispering things that made the cold feel like a lover. I didn’t care if I lived. I didn’t care if I died. But then Mara stepped out of the snow, her scarred lips twisted into a grin, and something inside me cracked. A sliver of curiosity, sharp and cold, like the edge of a blade pressed to a thawing vein.She stood taller than the others, her shoulders draped in a pelt stitched from wolf hides and something darker—bear, maybe, or human. The scar splitting her lips gleamed in the weak light, a pale thread weaving through weathered skin. Her eyes were flint, sharp enough to spark.“Viktor Frostfang,” she said, her voic
The wind screamed through the whale’s ribs, a banshee’s wail that drowned the scrape of my blade against stone. Three nights in the Unbound’s belly had taught me this: ash choked the stew, lies choked the air, and Mara’s eyes never left my back.She found me in the skull’s shadow, sharpening a stolen dagger. The obsidian edge caught the firelight, fracturing her reflection into shards.“Elder Yrsa,” she said, flipping her own blade in her hand. The name was a knife.I kept sharpening. “What about her?”“Kill her.”The stone slipped. The dagger bit my palm. Blood welled, black in the dim light. Vorath hissed, a serpent coiling tighter. Yrsa. The singer. The liar.I forced my voice flat. “Why?”Mara’s boot crunched ice as she circled me. “You don’t ask why. You obey.”I laughed, bitter. “You’re not my Alpha.”“No.” She crouched, her scarred lips inches from my ear. “I’m worse.”Her dagger slammed into the ice between my legs. The hilt vibrated, humming like a struck chord.“Yrsa’s the l
We left her room, nodding to the guards as we passed. The pack house was busier now, with members hurrying to and fro on various errands. I caught fragments of conversation as we walked—whispers about Aaron's death, Angela's return, and increasingly, speculation about my role in it all."...heard she killed him," one young wolf muttered to another as we passed."...special blood," came another whisper. "That's why Silver Claw wants her.""...broke the Alpha's mate bond..."I ignored them all, keeping my head high and my pace steady. Let them talk. Soon they'd know the truth—or at least as much of it as Silas deemed necessary to share.We found him in his office, deep in conversation with Mason Sullivan and Dr. Emerson. All three looked up as we entered, conversations pausing mid-sentence."Stella," Silas acknowledged, his eyes briefly registering surprise at Bella's presence. "Bella. How are you feeling?""Well enough," she replied. "I want to be at the council meeting."Silas nodded,
Tears streamed down my face by the time I finished reading. I hadn't cried since the night I fled Blood Moon five years ago, but now I couldn't stop. This was my mother's voice, her words, her love reaching across the years to touch me.Bella moved from her chair to sit beside me, her arm going around my shoulders. "She loved you," she said softly. "More than her own life.""All these years," I whispered, "I believed it was my fault. That I killed her just by being born. My father—""Your father was wrong," Bella said firmly. "Your mother made her choice with full knowledge of what it meant. She wanted you to live, to fulfill your destiny."I wiped my eyes, rereading the part about facing a great trial, a rejection. "She knew about Silas," I realized. "Somehow, she knew what would happen between us."Bella nodded. "The Moon Goddess bloodline often carries the gift of foresight. Your mother likely had visions of your future, just as you're having visions now.""Did she know about the c
Angela's blood spread across the temple floor, mixing with the silver light from the ritual platform. The black chemicals in her system made it steam where it touched stone.'Finish it,' Rona urged, her voice straining as the ritual pulled at our connection. 'Before he—'Viktor's laugh cut her off. The sound rattled out like breaking glass. His body convulsed, muscles bulging and splitting his skin as he grew. Eight legs burst from his torso—four wolf, four human, bent at unnatural angles. His chest split vertically, revealing a second mouth lined with both fangs and human teeth. His original head remained, but the skin had peeled back, leaving exposed muscle that pulsed and shifted. Three more wolf heads emerged from his shoulders, their snouts too long, jaws unhinging to show tongues that writhed like snakes. Yellow eyes opened across his body—in his chest, along his arms, between the joints of his legs. Black veins spread from the injection ports in his neck, carrying chemicals tha
We left his office, moving through the pack house toward the east wing, where the main library and public archives were housed. Pack members nodded respectfully to Silas as we passed, though I still received curious and often suspicious glances.The library was quiet when we entered, only a few members browsing the shelves or reading at the scattered tables. Silas led me past them all, toward a door marked "Private Collections" at the back. He unlocked it with a key from his pocket, ushering me inside and locking it behind us.The room beyond was small, lined with glass-fronted cases containing what appeared to be fragile scrolls and ancient bound volumes. Silas moved to a bookcase against the far wall, running his fingers along the spines until he found what he was looking for—a small, unmarked black volume.He pulled it partway out, and I heard a faint click. The entire bookcase swung inward, revealing a narrow stone staircase descending into darkness."The original pack house was b
A silver pendant on a delicate chain caught my eye. It was a stylized "A.L." intertwined in an elaborate design. The craftsmanship was exquisite, the materials expensive. It didn't match the other pieces in the box, which were simpler and more traditional."Silas," I called again. "Do you recognize this?"He took the necklace, examining it with a frown. "No. I've never seen Angela wear it.""The initials," I pointed out. "A.L. Angela's first initial, but the L doesn't fit. Her middle name was Marie, wasn't it?""Yes," he confirmed, still studying the pendant. "And our last name is Morrigan. There's no L anywhere in her name.""Unless," I said slowly, "it's not her initial at all. A.L. Alpha Logan."Silas's head snapped up, his eyes meeting mine. "Silver Claw's Alpha.""Exactly." I took the necklace back, turning it over. On the back, nearly too small to see, was an engraving—a tiny wolf silhouette with what looked like a silver tear falling from its eye. "This is their pack symbol, is
After he left, I explored the suite more thoroughly. Two bedrooms, both with attached bathrooms, a comfortable living area, and the small but functional kitchenette. My suitcase and the few belongings I'd brought from my life as Ella Stone had been placed in the larger bedroom.I took a long, hot shower, washing away the blood—both Aaron's and my own—and the sweat of battle. As steam filled the bathroom, I examined my injuries in the mirror. The cut on my cheek from Aaron's claws was already healing, faster than a normal werewolf's would. The hybrid's attack had left bruises on my arms and torso, but they too were fading rapidly.'Our blood heals,' Rona observed. 'The Goddess blood.'"We don't know that yet," I muttered, but I couldn't deny the evidence. I'd always healed quickly, even as a child. It was one of the things my father had found suspicious about me, one of the ways I had been "different" that he'd resented.After my shower, I dressed in sleep shorts and a tank top, then c
Silas led me from the infirmary, his hand still on my arm. We walked in silence through the pack house, passing curious pack members who quickly averted their eyes when they noticed Silas's thunderous expression.He didn't stop until we reached a section of the pack house I'd never been allowed to enter—the Alpha's private quarters. He unlocked a heavy wooden door and ushered me inside.The suite was larger than I'd expected—a sitting area with comfortable furniture, a kitchenette, a short hallway leading to what I assumed were bedrooms. The décor was surprisingly minimal, nothing like the opulent showiness I'd expected from an Alpha's quarters."You'll stay here from now on," Silas said, closing and locking the door behind us. "It's the most secure location in the pack house."I raised an eyebrow. "In your quarters? Won't that cause talk?""These aren't my personal rooms," he explained. "This is the Alpha's guest suite. My rooms are nextdoor. There's a connecting door, but it locks f
The moment we stepped into the infirmary, the antiseptic smell hit me—sharp and clinical, a stark contrast to the earthy scents of the forest we'd just left. Dr. Emerson looked up from his patient, his expression carefully neutral as he met Silas's gaze."Alpha," he acknowledged with a nod. "She's stable, but weak."My eyes moved past him to the figure on the bed. Angela lay unnaturally still, her once-glossy dark hair matted and dull against the white pillow. Bruises marked her face and arms, some fresh, others yellowing with age. A bandage wrapped around her left forearm, blood seeping through in spots.Despite everything she'd done to me, something twisted in my chest at the sight of her so broken. This was my sister—the girl who had tormented me growing up, who had helped frame me for a crime I didn't commit, who had married the man who rejected me. Yet seeing her injured stirred old protective instincts I thought I'd buried years ago."Is she conscious?" Silas asked quietly.Dr.
Silas helped Bella to her feet while Marcus and Jacob carefully lifted Aaron's body. The group split, with the men carrying Aaron back toward the pack house while Silas, Bella, and I took a different route, moving more cautiously now that we knew the hybrid was still in the area."We need to get to the archives," Bella said as we walked. "My research—if they're willing to kill for it, it must be important.""More important than we realized," Silas agreed grimly. "What exactly did you discover, Bella?"She glanced nervously over her shoulder before answering. "I found references to a prophecy in the oldest pack records. A prophecy about a descendant of the Moon Goddess who would be rejected by her mate during a celestial alignment, triggering a curse that would weaken the strongest pack. Sound familiar?""That's oddly specific," I commented, frowning. "And convenient.""It gets more specific," she continued. "The prophecy also says this descendant would have 'hair like blood and eyes l