The moon hung like a silver blade in the sky—sharp, silent, watching.
Luna's boots crunched softly against the frost-laced grass as she walked deeper into the forest, each step slicing through the stillness like a whispered defiance. The Silverhollow border was long behind her now, swallowed by the dark canopy of the Northwoods.
She wasn't supposed to be here.
Not alone.
Not tonight.
And definitely not this far into Bloodshade territory.
But rules had never suited her. Not the way running did. Not the way freedom did. Not the way he did.
Luna didn't know his name—not yet. Only the stories.
They called him Min Suga.
Alpha of the cursed pack.
The one with ash in his veins and shadows in his soul.
A myth. A monster. A man.
Her chest tightened just thinking of him.
She'd heard the whispers from the older wolves:
He was born under a black moon. A child marked by the Nightfangs. No howl. No warmth. Just silence and blood. And when he rose as Alpha, he did not take the oath. He made his own.
And somehow, some ridiculous, unbelievable somehow… she had dreamt of him.
Not just once.
For the last seven nights.
The same eyes. The same voice.
The same damn forest.
"Find me," he had said in the dream.
"Beneath the moon, where the trees forget light."
And so, here she was.
Alone. Out past curfew. Out of her mind.
The trees changed subtly as she moved. Thicker bark. Shadows that stretched wrong. Even the wind seemed to hush its howl, as if afraid of waking something older than itself.
She paused. Her breath curled into the air. Something was—
Behind her. Fast.
She spun around, claws half-shifted.
But it wasn't claws that met her. It was eyes.
Amber-gold. Lit like wildfire. Unblinking.
Watching her as if he already knew everything.
"You came," the figure said, voice dark velvet. Low. Controlled. Dangerous.
Her heart stuttered. Her wolf did a damn somersault.
He was taller than she expected. Broad shoulders cloaked in black, shirt rolled up to his forearms, and a scar trailing down his jaw like a question no one dared to ask. His scent hit her next—smoke, pine, and something ancient.
"You're Shuno," she said. "Aren't you?"
"Depends. Who's asking?"
"Someone who doesn't fear myths."
He stepped forward. Slow. Measured.
"Then you're either very brave… or very foolish."
Her lips quirked. "Or maybe both."
He stopped just out of reach. Like he didn't trust himself closer.
"Luna," he said, and the way her name fell from his lips—it wasn't a name. It was a curse broken.
"How do you know me?" she asked, heart in her throat.
"The same way you knew to find me."
"The dreams," she breathed.
"The bond," he corrected.
Boom. Her heart shattered. Not in pain. In recognition.
She should have run. Turned back. Reported him.
But instead…
"Tell me what this is," she said.
He looked up at the moon, jaw tight.
"A prophecy."
"A trap."
"And maybe… a way to end the curse."