As soon as Luna was yanked from the dark wooden room, her senses were immediately overwhelmed. The sharp tang of wolves—wet earth, musk, raw power—mingled with the more subtle, acrid scent of humans. It was strange.
Now that she had been exposed to both species, she could somehow tell the difference. As if her instincts had awakened, whispering to her what each scent meant.
'Ugh.' Luna winced as sunlight pierced her eyes like tiny daggers. 'It's morning... So I've been asleep for that long.'
She blinked rapidly, trying to adjust. The sudden burst of light after being trapped in shadows left her squinting, half-blind. Her guide—a young human man with downcast eyes—tightened his grip on the rope around her wrists, his knuckles pale with tension.
'It's weird,' Luna thought, eyes narrowing behind her lashes. 'That old man said he didn't want me escaping, yet he lets a human hold the rope. Does he know I wouldn't risk hurting a human?'
If that was the case… then Tyrnhael was smarter than he looked. Cunning, even.
Just like the other old bastards.
As she walked behind them—dragged more like—Luna kept her head low, eyes scanning.
Her body moved out of necessity, but her mind was sharp. Analyzing. The trees here loomed high above them, towering like ancient sentinels, their trunks so wide she couldn't wrap her arms around them if she tried.
It was said that the deeper you ventured into the forest, the larger and older the trees became.
They were far from the edge now.
Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting everything in a soft, muted gold.
It was beautiful in a way that made her heart ache, but the beauty was fleeting. Because as they reached the center of the village, everything changed.
Luna's breath hitched. Her steps slowed.
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
'What... the fuck?'
She had expected werewolves—some with golden eyes like hers, some fully shifted into beasts—but this... this was different. Human women. Everywhere.
Some were shackled by chains that rattled with each step, others were being led like livestock beside massive, burly men with dark expressions.
Misery clung to them like a second skin. Some stared blankly ahead, others flinched at the smallest noise.
'This is horrible.' Her chest clenched. 'They look... broken.'
Beside her, the old man named Maedric seemed to notice. His eyes crinkled in something like amusement.
"You need not feel bad for them," he said lightly, almost with a grandfather's smile. But the gleam in his eyes betrayed something darker.
Luna's mouth opened before she could stop herself. "W-What…?"
Ysrald, another of the old ones, answered smoothly as he clasped his hands behind his back.
"Humans. They are the reason our females no longer exist. They hunted them to extinction… even the pups. That is why you are so special."
Maedric gave a solemn nod, eyes now gleaming with eerie reverence. "Whoever your real parents were, they must have given everything to keep you hidden… to keep you safe."
'Whoever my real parents are…' Luna's thoughts spiraled, her stomach twisting. She hadn't thought about it before. She'd only just discovered she was a pureblooded werewolf. Did that mean the people who raised her—who loved her—weren't her real family?
But something didn't add up.
She frowned. "H-How were humans able to kill them all? I thought… Werewolves were supposed to be stronger?"
Everything froze.
The air thickened.
All three elders stiffened, and even Tyrnhael, the chief, looked momentarily caught off guard. Their silence said everything.
'Oh?' Luna's pulse quickened. 'They said something they shouldn't have. That reaction… they're hiding something.'
Tyrnhael opened his mouth, likely to change the subject or offer a vague excuse, but before he could speak—
"Chief! Is that her?!"
A young voice rang out, cracking with excitement. Luna turned to see a boy—no older than seventeen—rushing over with bright yellow eyes and boundless energy.
Tyrnhael sighed heavily. "Gavren, must you be so loud?" he muttered, but still nodded. "Yes. This is her."
The boy—Gavren—beamed. His golden eyes sparkled as he practically bounced toward Luna.
"Wow! An actual female werewolf! This is amazing—it's really, really nice to meet you!" He offered a hand. "My name's Gavren! What's your name—ugh!"
Before he could reach her, someone yanked him backward with a harsh grip.
Luna blinked, startled. Her muscles tensed unconsciously, not because of the sudden movement—but because she knew that scent.
Familiar. Cold. Dangerous.
A tall figure stood before her, one hand gripping Gavren by the collar like he weighed nothing. His presence radiated tension, sharp and unrelenting, like a blade held just a little too close to the skin.
Gavren groaned, wriggling in the man's grip until he turned to look at his captor. His expression shifted in an instant.
"Ugh, who is—Oh..." Gavren paled. "V-Vaelen! I didn't... know you were back."
His voice trembled now. Gone was the eager, bumbling teen from moments before.
'Odd.' Luna's eyes narrowed slightly, taking in the interaction. 'He wasn't this jumpy even in front of Tyrnhael. But this Vaelen scares him?'
The man—Vaelen—barely spared Gavren a glance. "That just means you need to hone your senses more instead of lounging around like a pup."
And with that, he tossed Gavren to the ground like a ragdoll.
The boy landed with a heavy thud, dust kicking up around him as he let out a winded groan. Around them, several werewolves snickered.
"That's what he gets."
"Kid never stops talking."
"He's always such a hyperactive little runt."
'That's... harsh.' Luna thought, frowning as she watched Gavren mumble an apology and drag himself to his feet, red-faced. He didn't look at anyone as he walked away, shame in every step.
'So... even among their own, they humiliate the weak.' She turned her attention back to Vaelen—already staring at her.
His eyes were sharp, unreadable. Luna felt her stomach tighten.
He had auburn hair that caught the sunlight, a striking contrast to his tanned skin. Tall, broad-shouldered, clearly well-trained.
A warrior, undoubtedly. But more than that, there was an arrogance to his stance, a silent confidence that rubbed her the wrong way.
'He reeks of self-importance.' Her eyes narrowed. 'Why does he feel so... familiar?'
Tyrnhael approached them then, beaming like a proud father. He clapped Vaelen on the back. "Vaelen, my boy. You're back so early. I trust the hunt went well?"
Vaelen grinned. "Of course, Father. Who do you think you're talking to?"
'Father?' Luna blinked. 'He's the chief's son? They look nothing alike.'
Tyrnhael laughed heartily, clearly used to this bravado. "Are the others back as well?"
Before Vaelen could answer, a rush of new scents hit Luna like a wave—earth, blood, sweat, and something unmistakably... wild.
Voices followed.
"We're here."
Four more figures emerged from the treeline. The one who spoke had light brown hair and the same golden eyes that seemed to mark their kind.
"Vaelen didn't even bother putting the kills away. He just left them out like a damn savage," another man grumbled, his dark brown hair ruffled from the wind. His tone was a snarl, even with his hands casually laced behind his head.
"I knew someone else would do it. You're just mad I brought back more than you, Bastiel," Vaelen said, snorting with amusement.
Bastiel's golden eyes flared. "What did you say, fucker?"
"Now, now," came a calm voice, deeper and more measured. A man with striking silver hair stepped forward—his tone composed, almost bored. "We're in the presence of the chief. Try not to embarrass yourselves."
"Shut the fuck up, Rhyxen," Bastiel barked. "No one asked you."
'Someone has anger issues.' Luna thought, her gaze flicking to Rhyxen—whose hair looked eerily like hers. White. Pale like moonlight.
Rhyxen didn't flinch. He simply smirked, then glanced at another man—this one more flamboyant, with the same white hair but a glint of mischief in his eyes.
"Can you leave my brother alone, Basti?" the pale-haired man asked sweetly.
"I'm not your brother," Rhyxen muttered, his tone now edged with steel. "And stay out of my way, Rhaevos."
"Ah," Rhaevos mocked, placing a hand over his chest with fake sadness. "And here I was just trying to protect you, dear brother."
Vaelen groaned loudly. "Must you all do this every single time?" His voice sharpened. "Bastiel, shut the fuck up. Rhaevos, stop pestering Rhyxen—we all remember what happened last time."
The tension shifted—thickened.
Luna noted how, for all his bravado, the moment Vaelen spoke, the other four grew tense. Their muscles stiffened. No more witty retorts. Just a quiet, subtle submission.
'So Vaelen's the one in charge here,' she realized. 'Not just a spoiled prince.'
But then—
"Leave the chiefing to the chief, Vaelen," said the light-brown-haired man—Nohlan, Luna guessed from the way the others looked at him.
Vaelen's head turned slowly. "What did you say, Nohlan?"
Nohlan didn't back down. "At least one of us is acting like one."
Luna braced herself.
But before more could erupt, a deep, rumbling throat-clearing silenced them all.
Tyrnhael.
He stood tall, golden eyes glowing faintly with irritation as he surveyed the group like a disappointed teacher.
"Excuse me," he said, voice cool. "Can you all not do this in front of our new addition?"
'Ah.' Luna tensed as five pairs of eyes suddenly turned to her.
Vaelen was the first to speak. He cleared his throat. "Right."
"Our little runner," Rhaevos added with a wide smirk.
'Little runner? What—' Her thoughts halted as realization slammed into her like a thunderclap.
Auburn hair. Light brown. Dark brown. Silver. White.
The scents. The voices.
'They were the ones chasing me last night.'
And then—
"Hello, little lamb."
The voice was low, like velvet dipped in venom.
Luna's blood ran cold.