I awoke to the metallic smell of blood.
My hands felt sticky, warm liquid dripping between my fingers. As my eyes fluttered open, I found myself kneeling on our bedroom floor, surrounded by crimson.
"What..." My voice was raw, barely recognizable.
The severed head of Alpha Vincent lay before me, his eyes still open in shock, his features frozen in a last expression of terror. Blood had sprayed across the white walls, the bedsheets, my skin—everywhere.
I looked down at my hands. They were covered in blood, bits of flesh stuck under my nails. But they weren't claws. Just human hands that had somehow...torn a man apart.
How? I didn't have my wolf. How had I killed an Alpha?
A low moan from across the room snapped my focus away from Vincent's head. Amelia lay crumpled against the wall beneath a shattered window, her naked body covered in cuts from broken glass. She was alive, barely.
"Monster," she whispered, her eyes filled with hatred and fear as she looked at me. "What are you?"
I couldn't answer her. I didn't know.
The sound of footsteps pounding up the stairs jolted me back to reality. Someone was coming—probably Elodie, Vincent's mother. She must have heard the commotion.
"Vincent!" Her voice carried from the hallway. "What's happening? I heard screaming!"
Panic surged through me. In seconds, she would discover what I'd done.
Without thinking, I lunged toward the broken window. Glass cut my feet as I climbed onto the ledge, staring down at the two-story drop.
"Vincent! Answer me!" The doorknob was turning.
I jumped.
The impact knocked the wind from my lungs, but nothing broke. Somehow, I'd landed like a cat, knees bent to absorb the impact. Another impossibility.
From above, I heard Elodie's scream of horror. "VINCENT! NO!"
Her face appeared at the window, contorted with grief and rage. Her eyes locked onto me.
"YOU! GUARDS! KILL HER! KILL THE MURDERER!"
I ran.
My bare feet pounded against the forest floor as I fled into the trees. My heart hammered against my ribs as the sounds of pursuit erupted behind me—howls, shouts, the thunder of paws against earth. They were shifting, giving chase.
I couldn't outrun wolves. Not in human form. But my wolf was gone—I couldn't feel her presence at all.
The forest darkened around me as I pushed deeper into its heart. Branches whipped against my face, roots threatened to trip me at every step, but somehow I kept moving. Something was guiding me, pushing me forward.
A loud caw sounded overhead. I glanced up to see a large crow circling above me, its beady eyes fixed on my fleeing form. It cawed again, almost like a command.
More crows appeared, flying ahead of me, forming a dark ribbon through the trees. Without understanding why, I followed them.
"Find her! The murderer can't have gone far!" The voices echoed through the forest, much too close.
I needed to hide, to disappear, but where? The pack knew every inch of this territory.
The crows led me to a small stream. I waded in, hoping the water would mask my scent. The icy current bit into my skin, but I welcomed the pain—it cleared my head, pushed away the shock that threatened to overwhelm me.
What had I done? How had I done it? The memories were fragmented, blurred by rage and something else—something dark that had surged through me when I confronted them.
I'd killed Vincent. Ripped him apart with my bare hands. Left Amelia broken and bloody.
I should feel remorse, horror at my actions. Instead, all I felt was a cold satisfaction. He'd torn out my womb, murdered our child, left me for dead. Now he was the dead one. Justice, of a sort.
The sound of snapping twigs nearby froze me in place. They were getting closer.
I ducked beneath the surface of the stream, holding my breath as long as I could before emerging silently, like a wraith rising from the depths. The crows circled impatiently overhead.
Follow, they seemed to say. Hurry.
I dragged myself from the water and continued running, following my strange guides. My body ached, wounds from my "accident" reopening, blood seeping through the thin nightgown I wore.
For three days, I ran. I slept hidden in hollow logs or dense thickets, ate whatever berries I could find, drank from streams. Always, the crows stayed with me, warning me when patrols got too close, leading me away from danger.
But my strength was failing. My human body couldn't sustain this pace without food, rest, or my wolf's healing abilities. The pack hunters were gaining ground, their howls growing closer each night.
On the fourth night, I collapsed at the base of an ancient oak tree, my lungs burning, legs trembling with exhaustion.
"I can't," I whispered to the crows that settled in the branches above me. "I can't run anymore."
The largest crow flew down, landing on a low branch near my head. It cocked its head, studying me with one glossy black eye, then let out a series of urgent caws.
In the distance, howls answered—too close now. They'd found my trail.
The crow flapped its wings aggressively, as if scolding me for giving up. It launched into the air, circling me once before flying northwest.
With the last of my strength, I pushed myself to my feet and followed. My vision blurred, darkness creeping at the edges. Each step was agony, but something other than fear drove me now—a compulsion to follow these birds, to trust their guidance.
We crested a small hill, and I froze.
Before me stretched an invisible line—the boundary separating my former pack's territory from that of another, much more dangerous one: The Golden Moon pack.
Everyone knew of the Golden Moon pack—the most powerful werewolves in the region, led by Landon Mercer, the merciless Lycan King himself. They were said to be different from ordinary werewolves—bigger, stronger, capable of partial shifts that made them terrifying hybrids of man and beast. They killed trespassers without question.
The crows flew across the boundary without hesitation.
"I can't go there," I whispered. "That's certain death."
Behind me, howls grew closer. My former packmates would tear me apart if they caught me.
Death behind me. Death before me.
The largest crow circled back, landing on a branch that crossed the boundary line. It stared at me, unblinking.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped over the invisible line into Golden Moon territory.
The moment I crossed, something strange happened. The air felt different—heavier, charged with power. The forest itself seemed to pulse with energy that hadn't been present on the other side.
I stumbled forward, following the crows deeper into forbidden territory. My legs finally gave out after another mile, and I collapsed onto the mossy ground. The crows settled in the trees around me, their black eyes watchful.
"Thank you," I whispered to them, though I wasn't sure what I was thanking them for. Leading me to a different death, perhaps.
I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, I was jolted awake by a low growl.
I opened my eyes to find myself surrounded by wolves—enormous creatures nearly twice the size of normal werewolves, their muscles rippling beneath thick fur. Golden Moon warriors.
Slowly, I pushed myself to a sitting position. There was no point in running now.
"I mean no harm," I said, my voice cracking from disuse.
The largest wolf, a midnight black beast with piercing amber eyes, stepped forward. His form shimmered, and suddenly a man stood in his place—tall, powerfully built, with the same amber eyes now set in a human face.
"You've trespassed into Golden Moon territory," he said, his voice deep and threatening. "That alone is punishable by death."
The other wolves circled closer, their teeth bared in silent threat.
I straightened my spine, meeting the man's gaze. If I was going to die, I would face it with dignity.
"I had no choice. I was being hunted."
The man's nostrils flared as he scented the air. "You're covered in blood—not all of it yours. And you have no wolf scent." His eyes narrowed. "What are you?"
Before I could answer, the crows that had guided me burst into frenzied cawing. They swooped down, flying circles around the wolves, who snapped and growled at the birds in confusion.
The man raised his hand, and his warriors fell silent, watching the bizarre spectacle with wary eyes.
"Silence!" he commanded, and to my shock, the crows immediately settled, perching in the trees above us, their black eyes fixed on the proceedings below.
He turned back to me, suspicion darkening his features. "Who are you to command death's messengers?"
"I don't command them," I said truthfully. "They... help me. I don't know why."
"Your name," he demanded.
I hesitated. Giving my real name could be dangerous. If the Golden Moon pack learned I was the former Luna of a neighboring territory, they might use me as a political pawn—or worse, return me to face justice for Vincent's murder.
"Sera," I offered, shortening my name. "Just Sera."
"You're lying." He stepped closer, his nostrils flaring again. "You reek of fear and death. What pack are you from?"
"None. Not anymore." That much was true. I had no pack now.
The man studied me for a long moment, taking in my battered appearance, the dried blood coating my skin and clothes, the scars marring my face.
"You killed someone," he stated flatly. "That's why you're being hunted."
I didn't answer, which was answer enough.
He turned to his warriors. "Bind her. We'll take her back to the Alpha."
Two wolves shifted to human form—both women with hard eyes and battle-scarred bodies. They approached me cautiously, as if I might attack. One produced rope from a pack tied to her leg and roughly bound my wrists.
"Move," she ordered, shoving me forward.
My legs threatened to buckle with each step, but I forced myself to keep walking. The crows followed overhead, their presence somehow reassuring despite my dire circumstances.
We traveled for hours through dense forest, eventually emerging into a valley dominated by an enormous stone fortress built into the side of a mountain. Unlike the simple wooden structures of my former pack, this was a castle—ancient and imposing.
Warriors patrolled its walls, all of them massive like my captors. Ordinary werewolves were large by human standards, but these Lycans towered over even the biggest wolves I'd ever seen.
They led me through heavy gates into a courtyard bustling with activity. Everywhere I looked, warriors trained, servants hurried about their duties, and children—far fewer than in a normal pack—played under watchful eyes.
All activity ceased as we passed, curious and hostile gazes following our progress.
"Who's that?"
"Human?"
"Why are the death birds following her?"
The whispers followed us as we entered the fortress itself, descending a spiral staircase deep into the mountain's heart. The temperature dropped with each step, until I was shivering in my filthy, torn nightgown.
Finally, we reached a corridor lined with cells. The guard unlocked one and shoved me inside with enough force to send me sprawling onto the stone floor.
"The Alpha will decide what to do with you," he said before locking the door and leaving me alone in the darkness.
I curled into a corner, wrapping my arms around my knees in a futile attempt to warm myself. Outside my tiny window, I could see the crows settling on the sill, keeping their silent vigil.
Hours passed. My stomach cramped with hunger, my throat burned with thirst. Just when I thought they'd forgotten about me, footsteps echoed in the corridor.
The cell door creaked open, and a tall, broad-shouldered man entered. Unlike the warriors who'd captured me, he wore no uniform—just simple leather pants and a tunic that couldn't hide his powerful physique. His face was lined with age and experience, his salt-and-pepper beard neatly trimmed.
"I am Thorne, Beta of the Golden Moon pack," he introduced himself. "And you are trespassing on our land."
I straightened, meeting his gaze. "As I told your warriors, I had no choice."
"Everyone has choices." He leaned against the wall, studying me. "You chose to kill someone. You chose to flee. You chose to enter our territory, knowing the penalty is death."
I said nothing. He wasn't wrong.
"The question is why?" he continued. "Why risk certain death by coming here? What were you running from that frightened you more than the Golden Moon pack?"
"Justice," I answered simply. "Or what passes for it."
His eyebrow quirked. "Interesting. Most would say vengeance."
"Call it what you will."
"And these birds?" He nodded toward the window where the crows watched us. "They've been circling the fortress since you arrived. The pack is uneasy. Crows are death omens."
"They won't harm anyone," I said, though I had no idea if that was true. I barely understood my connection to them.
Thorne studied me for a long moment. "You're a puzzle, Sera—if that's even your name. No wolf scent, yet you move like one of us. No pack, yet you carry yourself like someone who once had authority. Scarred but unbroken."
His perception unsettled me. I looked away.
"Unfortunately, puzzles are dangerous in times like these." He straightened. "The Alpha Council has reviewed your case. You entered our territory unlawfully. You've admitted to murder. You bring omens of death to our gates."
My heart sank. I knew what was coming.
"The sentence is death," he confirmed. "To be carried out immediately."
I closed my eyes briefly. After everything—the betrayal, the loss, the flight—this was how it would end. In a cold cell, far from home, killed by strangers for the crime of seeking survival.
"I understand," I said, surprised by the steadiness of my voice.
Thorne nodded to someone outside the cell, and a warrior entered—young, with cold eyes and a silver sword strapped to his back.
"Make it quick," Thorne ordered him before turning back to me. "Any last words?"
I looked at the crows watching through the window, their black eyes reflecting what little light filtered into the cell.
"Thank you," I whispered to them. "For trying."
The warrior unsheathed his sword. I forced myself not to flinch, not to close my eyes. I would meet death with dignity, at least.
"Wait!" A sharp voice echoed down the corridor.
An elderly woman appeared in the doorway—tall and straight-backed despite her advanced age, dressed in a simple black dress, her silver hair pulled back in a severe bun.
"What is the meaning of this, Helena?" Thorne asked, clearly annoyed at the interruption.
"You can't kill her yet," the woman—Helena—said. "I need to speak with the prisoner first."
"The Alpha Council has already passed sentence."
"The Alpha isn't here," Helena countered. "And as head of his household, I have the authority to delay execution if I have cause."
Thorne's jaw tightened. "What cause?"
Helena stepped into the cell, her sharp eyes assessing me from head to toe. "We're short-staffed. Two maids dead in the past month from that beast's temper. At this rate, we'll have no one left to clean the west wing."
I blinked in confusion. Was she talking about... hiring me?
"You want to spare a trespasser, a confessed murderer, to scrub floors?" Thorne's voice dripped with skepticism.
"I want to be practical." Helena crouched before me, her eyes—a piercing blue that seemed too vibrant for her age—boring into mine. "Girl, can you clean?"
Stunned by this turn of events, I nodded. "I... yes."
"Can you keep your mouth shut, follow orders, and stay out of the way?"
Again, I nodded.
"See?" Helena straightened, turning back to Thorne. "Problem solved."
"The Alpha won't like this," Thorne warned.
"The Alpha barely notices the servants unless they displease him," Helena retorted. "And if she does displease him, he'll kill her himself. Either way, you get your execution—just not today."
Thorne hesitated, clearly torn between protocol and practicality. Finally, he sighed.
"Fine. But she's your responsibility, Helena. When she inevitably fails and faces the Alpha's wrath, you'll answer for it too."
"I always do." Helena turned to me. "Well, girl? What will it be? Die now, or serve in the Lycan King's castle until you inevitably displease someone powerful enough to kill you?"
Some choice. Yet the survival instinct that had driven me this far wouldn't let me surrender now.
"I'll serve," I said quietly.
Helena nodded briskly. "Smart girl. Come along