The claws that ripped through Luna's jacket missed her spine by inches.
She stumbled forward, bare feet slipping on rain-slicked concrete as the sound of something massive crashed through the alley behind her. The metallic taste of terror coated her tongue, mixing with the copper scent of her own blood from where those impossible talons had found their mark. Three parallel gashes burned across her shoulder blade, the fabric of her white blouse now crimson and clinging to her skin.
This isn't happening. This can't be happening.
But the pain was real. The predatory snarl echoing off the brick walls was real. And the yellow eyes that had been hunting her through downtown Seattle for the past twenty minutes were very, very real.
Luna's lungs burned as she forced herself to keep running, her psychology degree doing nothing to explain why a man could move like liquid shadow or why his fingernails had been sharp enough to slice through leather. She'd taken self-defense classes. She'd read every true crime podcast transcript about staying safe in the city. None of it had prepared her for this.
The alley narrowed ahead, funneling her between two towering brick buildings that blocked out most of the streetlight. Neon signs from a 24-hour laundromat cast everything in alternating red and blue, making the puddles look like pools of blood. She could hear her pursuer behind her, not running, but moving with that same fluid grace that had allowed him to keep pace with her desperate sprint without seeming to exert any effort at all.
"You can't run forever, little wolf," his voice carried through the darkness, rich and amused. "I can smell your fear. It's... intoxicating."
Luna's heart hammered against her ribs. Little wolf? What the hell did that mean? She wasn't small, at five feet seven with a runner's build, she could usually handle herself. But against whatever this man was, she felt like prey. Like something fragile and breakable.
She pressed her back against the cold brick wall, trying to catch her breath while scanning for an escape route. The alley branched in three directions ahead. Left led toward the main street and potential help. Right disappeared into the shadows between abandoned warehouses. Straight ahead ended in what looked like a loading dock.
The smart choice was left. Get to people, to witnesses, to safety.
But something primal in her chest whispered that safety was an illusion tonight. That whatever was hunting her wouldn't be deterred by crowds or cops or anything else from the normal world she'd inhabited just hours ago.
Hours ago, when her biggest concern had been finishing inventory at Moonlight Books. When she'd been Luna Blackthorne, night manager, literature major, woman with a quiet life and no family to worry about her. When she'd been human.
Still human, she corrected herself fiercely. Still human, still rational, still alive.
"There you are."
The voice came from directly above her.
Luna looked up to see a silhouette crouched impossibly on a fire escape twenty feet overhead. In the stuttering neon light, she caught glimpses of a man who shouldn't exist. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair that looked like he'd been running his hands through it. But it was his eyes that made her breath catch, pale yellow, like a wolf's, reflecting the neon signs with an inner light that had nothing to do with the city around them.
He dropped.
Twenty feet. Straight down. And landed in a predatory crouch that barely made a sound.
Luna ran.
Left toward the street, toward the blessed glow of traffic lights and the distant sound of cars. Her bare feet found every piece of broken glass, every sharp edge of concrete, but she didn't slow down. Behind her, she could hear him following with that same unhurried pace that somehow kept him close enough that she could feel the heat of his presence.
"Damon Cross," he called out, his voice conversational despite the chase. "Since we're going to become so well acquainted, you should know my name. And you're Luna Blackthorne, twenty-four, manager of that quaint little bookstore on Pine Street. No family. No boyfriend. No one'll miss you for days."
The casual knowledge of her life sent ice through her veins. How long had he been watching her? Planning this?
"What do you want?" she gasped, not slowing down but needing answers.
"What I want," Damon's voice was closer now, "is what runs in your blood. What you don't even know you carry. Your grandmother would have understood. Pity she died before she could tell you the truth about what you are."
Luna's step faltered. Her grandmother had died when Luna was three. She barely remembered the woman, just fragments of silver hair and warm hands and lullabies in a language she'd never been able to identify. Her parents had died in a car accident when she was sixteen, and there had been no other family, no stories about heritage or bloodlines or anything that would explain why this man knew details about relatives she could barely remember.
The momentary distraction cost her.
Damon's hand closed around her wrist, yanking her backward with strength that lifted her feet off the ground. She spun, using the momentum to drive her elbow toward his solar plexus, but he caught that too, holding both her wrists in one massive hand while his free hand tilted her chin up.
Up close, he was even more impossible. His features were sharp, almost aristocratic, but there was something wild in the set of his mouth, in the way he held himself. Like civilization was just a costume he wore.
"You smell like power," he murmured, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "Old power. The kind that hasn't walked this earth in generations. Do you have any idea how rare that makes you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Luna said, proud that her voice stayed steady despite the terror clawing at her chest.
"No, you don't. That's what makes this so delicious." His smile revealed teeth that were just slightly too sharp. "You're about to discover what you really are, Luna Blackthorne. What your bloodline has been hiding for decades. And once the change begins..." His grip tightened. "You'll belong to the wild. Just like me."
The scream that tore from Luna's throat when his teeth found her neck echoed off every brick wall in the alley, a sound of pain and rage and something deeper, something that recognized, on an instinctual level, that her old life had just ended forever.
Part 2: "The Marking"
The pain was unlike anything Luna had ever experienced.
It started as fire spreading from the puncture wounds in her neck, racing through her bloodstream like molten metal. But beneath the agony was something worse: a sense of fundamental change, as if her very DNA was being rewritten cell by cell. Her vision flickered between crystal clarity and nauseating distortion, and she could suddenly hear the heartbeats of rats scurrying through the walls fifty feet away.
Damon released her, and she collapsed to her knees on the wet concrete, one hand pressed to the bleeding wounds at her throat. Through the haze of pain, she watched him step back, his pale eyes fixed on her with an expression that mixed satisfaction with something that might have been regret.
"The venom is already working," he said, his voice strangely gentle now. "You can feel it, can't you? The awakening. Your body is recognizing what it was always meant to become."
"What did you do to me?" Luna gasped, tasting copper and something wilder on her tongue. Her saliva had turned thick and strange, and when she spit, it came out tinged with red.
"I gave you the gift your bloodline was born to carry." Damon crouched in front of her, staying just out of reach but close enough that she could see the inhuman stillness in the way he held himself. "Your grandmother carried the markers, but the gene skipped your mother. Lucky for me, it didn't skip you."
Luna's head spun as she tried to process his words. "My grandmother was just she was just an old woman who told stories."
"Stories about wolves, weren't they?" Damon's smile was sharp. "Stories about the moon and the wild places, about people who could change their shape and run with the pack. You thought they were fairy tales."
The memory hit her like a physical blow. Sitting on her grandmother's lap at age three, listening to whispered stories about people who could become wolves under the full moon. Her parents had discouraged those stories, called them nonsense, and insisted that Luna focus on real things. After her grandmother's death, Luna had convinced herself they had been nothing but an old woman's fantasy.
But now, with fire racing through her veins and her senses expanding beyond human limits, those fairy tales felt like suppressed memories fighting to surface.
"This isn't possible," she whispered, even as her enhanced hearing picked up the sound of a police siren still blocks away. "People don't just change."
"Most people don't." Damon reached into his jacket and pulled out a photograph, old and yellowed at the edges. "But some bloodlines carry the potential. The Crimson Bloodline was the strongest, the purest. It was thought to be extinct."
He held the photograph out to her, and Luna's trembling fingers took it almost against her will. The image showed a woman who could have been Luna's twin, standing in what looked like a forest clearing surrounded by massive wolves. The woman's eyes held the same pale yellow glow that now flickered in Damon's gaze.
"That's Lydia Crimson, your great-great-grandmother. The last known pure-blood of the crimson line. Until now." Damon's voice carried a note of reverence. "You have her eyes, did you know that? When the change is complete, they'll hold that same inner fire."
Luna stared at the photograph, her vision swimming. The woman in the image looked exactly like her, down to the shape of her face and the set of her shoulders. But it was dated 1923, nearly a century ago.
"Why?" she managed to ask. "Why me? Why now?"
Damon was quiet for a long moment, and when he spoke again, his voice carried a weight that made Luna look up from the photograph. "Because war is coming to our kind. The old treaties are breaking down, the packs are fracturing, and we need the crimson line to unite them again. You're not just any werewolf, Luna. You're the key to preventing our entire species from destroying itself."
The word 'werewolf' hit her like a physical blow. Hearing it spoken aloud, applied to herself, made the impossible suddenly real in a way that all the physical changes hadn't. She was going to become a werewolf. A creature from movies and nightmares and her grandmother's whispered stories.
"I didn't choose this," she said, anger finally cutting through the fear and pain. "You had no right."
"Choice?" Damon laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You think any of us chose this? You think I wanted to become what I am?" His eyes flashed brighter, and for a moment his features seemed to shift, becoming more angular, more predatory. "I was turned against my will thirty years ago by an Alpha who saw potential in my bloodline. The difference is, I fought it. I let the rage consume me, and I became something monstrous."
He stood, pacing to the mouth of the alley and back, his movements too fluid to be entirely human. "You have a choice, I never did. You can embrace what you're becoming, learn to control it, and find a pack that will teach you. Or you can fight it like I did, and spend eternity as a monster."
Luna pressed her back against the brick wall, using it to lever herself to her feet. Her legs felt unsteady, but strength was already beginning to flow back into her muscles. The bleeding from her neck had slowed to a trickle, and when she touched the wounds, she could swear they felt smaller than they had moments ago.
"What if I go to the police? What if I tell them what you did?"
"With what evidence?" Damon gestured to her neck. "By tomorrow night, those marks will be completely healed. Your blood work will come back normal. And you'll be alone with changes you don't understand and instincts you can't control." His expression softened slightly. "I'm not the monster here, Luna. I'm the one offering you a chance to survive what's coming."
As if summoned by his words, the distant police sirens grew closer. Damon cocked his head, listening with obvious supernatural hearing, then looked back at her with something like regret.
"The scent of your blood is already changing," he said. "Other werewolves will be able to smell it within hours. Some will want to help you. Others will see you as a threat to be eliminated before you can come into your full power." He pulled a business card from his pocket and placed it on a nearby dumpster. "When you're ready to learn the truth about what you are, call that number. Ask for the Frost Pack. Tell them Damon Cross sends his regards."
"Wait," Luna called out, but he was already moving. In three swift strides, he reached the wall of the building beside them and began climbing with impossible speed and grace. Within seconds, he had disappeared over the rooftop, leaving her alone in the alley with nothing but the photograph, the business card, and the fire still spreading through her veins.
The police sirens were only blocks away now. Luna looked down at herself, taking inventory of her torn clothes and the blood that stained her blouse. She would need a story, an explanation that didn't involve werewolves and supernatural transformations.
But as she tried to think of what to tell them, her enhanced senses picked up something that made her blood run cold. Another scent, wild and predatory, was approaching from the opposite end of the alley. Someone else was coming. Someone who moved with the same inhuman grace that Damon had displayed.
The transformation might have begun, but the night's dangers were far from over.
Luna grabbed the business card and the photograph, stuffed them into her jacket pocket, and ran toward the approaching sirens. Behind her, she could hear the soft sound of claws clicking against concrete, following at a distance that suggested patience rather than urgency.
Whatever was hunting her now was content to wait.
Part 3: "Between Two Worlds"
Luna reached the mouth of the alley just as two Seattle PD patrol cars rounded the corner, their red and blue lights painting the wet streets in alternating colors. She pressed herself against the brick wall, trying to steady her breathing and come up with a believable explanation for her appearance. The torn blouse, the blood, the bare feet, she looked exactly like what she was: a victim of violence.
But how could she explain violence that defied everything the officers would understand about the world?
"Ma'am?" The first officer out of the patrol car was young, maybe twenty-five, with kind eyes and a hand that moved instinctively toward his service weapon when he saw the blood. "Are you hurt? Do you need medical attention?"
"I," Luna started, then stopped as her enhanced hearing picked up the subtle sounds behind her. Whatever had been following her was still there, staying just out of sight but close enough that she could smell its wild scent. Musky fur and damp earth and something that made her newly awakened instincts whisper danger. "Someone attacked me."
It wasn't a lie. It just wasn't the complete truth.
"Can you describe your attacker?" The second officer, older with silver threading through his dark hair, approached more cautiously. His nameplate read 'Morrison,' and there was something in his expression that made Luna think he had seen more than his share of strange cases.
"Tall, dark hair, very strong." Luna kept her voice steady, focusing on the facts that would make sense in a police report. "He knew personal information about me. My address, where I work. I think he might have been stalking me."
Officer Morrison nodded, pulling out a notebook. "And where did this attack occur?"
"About three blocks back, in the alley behind the old warehouse district." Luna gestured vaguely, not wanting to lead them to the exact location where traces of supernatural activity might linger. "I managed to get away and ran toward the lights."
The younger officer, whose nameplate identified him as 'Chen,' was examining her neck wound with a frown. "Ma'am, this looks like, well, it looks like bite marks. Human bite marks."
Luna's hand flew instinctively to her throat, covering the puncture wounds that she could swear were already smaller than they had been twenty minutes ago. "He was... he wasn't entirely sane. He said strange things, talked about bloodlines and wolves."
"Drug-related, probably," Morrison said, making notes. "We've had an uptick in PCP and bath salt cases downtown. Makes people think they're animals, gives them unusual strength."
Luna almost laughed at the irony. If only it were that simple.
"We need to get you to a hospital," Chen said gently. "Those wounds need proper cleaning and documentation. And we'll want to do a full examination, collect any DNA evidence."
The thought of doctors and tests and examinations sent panic shooting through Luna's system. What if her blood work came back abnormal? What if the changes Damon had triggered were already visible at a cellular level? She needed time to understand what was happening to her before she submitted to medical scrutiny.
"I'm okay, really," she said, taking a step back. "The bleeding has stopped, and I just want to go home and shower and try to forget this happened."
Morrison's expression grew more serious. "Ma'am, I understand you've been through a trauma, but we need to follow protocol. This was a serious assault, and without proper evidence collection..."
A sound from the alley behind them cut him off. Not loud, just the soft scrape of claws against concrete, but Luna's enhanced hearing picked it up clearly. Whatever had been following her was getting bolder, moving closer.
"Did you hear that?" she asked, turning toward the sound.
Both officers looked in the direction she was facing, hands moving to their weapons. Morrison motioned for Chen to take the lead while he stayed with Luna.
"Police! If someone's back there, show yourself!"
The response was not what any of them expected. A low, rumbling growl echoed from the shadows between the buildings, too deep and too feral to be human. Chen drew his weapon, his flashlight beam cutting through the darkness but revealing nothing except empty concrete and scattered trash.
"What the hell," Morrison muttered, his own gun now in his hands.
Luna's enhanced senses told her exactly what was back there, even if her rational mind still wanted to reject the information. Another werewolf, larger than Damon, with a scent that spoke of barely contained violence. And it was watching them, waiting for something.
"We need to leave," Luna said urgently. "Right now. All of us."
"Ma'am, please stay calm," Morrison said, but she could hear the tension in his voice. "Chen, call for backup. And animal control."
That growl came again, closer this time, and with it came the sound of heavy paws padding across wet concrete. Whatever was in that alley was moving toward them with deliberate purpose.
Luna made a decision that would have seemed insane six hours ago but now felt like the only rational choice available. She ran.
Not away from the supernatural threat, but toward it. If she were truly becoming what Damon claimed, then running from her own kind would solve nothing. But putting two human officers between herself and a hostile werewolf would only result in innocent deaths.
"Luna, don't!" Morrison called after her, but she was already disappearing into the shadows between the buildings.
Her enhanced night vision showed her what the officers' flashlights could not: a massive wolf, easily twice the size of any natural animal, standing in the center of the alley with its pale blue eyes fixed on her approach. Its fur was silver-gray, and there was an intelligence in its gaze that was purely human. This wasn't some mindless beast. This was a person in wolf form, and it had been waiting for her.
"You smell like fresh blood and new changes," the wolf said, its voice a mental whisper that bypassed her ears entirely and spoke directly to her mind. "Damon Cross has been busy tonight."
Luna stopped walking, every instinct screaming at her to run, but her rational mind recognized that flight was useless. This creature could catch her effortlessly if it chose to.
"What do you want?" she asked aloud, not sure if the mental communication worked both ways.
"To see if you're worth the trouble you're going to cause." The wolf padded closer, its massive head tilted as it studied her. "The Crimson Bloodline is awakening after three generations of silence. Do you have any idea what that means to our kind?"
"I'm starting to get the impression it means a lot of unwanted attention."
The wolf's lips pulled back in what might have been a smile, revealing teeth that could tear through steel. "Clever. That's good. You'll need intelligence to survive what's coming." It began to circle her, moving with fluid grace despite its size. "Three packs will want to claim you. Two will want to use you. One will want to kill you before you can disrupt the balance of power."
Behind them, Luna could hear the officers calling for backup and animal control, their voices tight with fear and confusion. She needed to get back to them before they did something that would expose the supernatural world in ways that would endanger everyone.
"Which are you?" she asked the wolf.
"I'm the one who's going to give you a choice," it replied. "Come with me now, learn what you need to survive, and those officers live. Stay here, try to play human for a few more hours, and I guarantee they'll be dead before sunrise, along with anyone else who gets between the packs and what they want."
The casual mention of innocent deaths sent rage flaring through Luna's system, and for a moment, her vision flickered red. She could feel something stirring in her chest, something wild and protective and utterly inhuman.
"You're threatening them to get to me."
"I'm stating facts." The wolf stopped circling and faced her directly. "You can't go back to your human life, Luna Blackthorne. That ended the moment Damon's fangs broke your skin. The question is whether you're going to accept that reality and learn to protect the people you care about, or whether you're going to cling to a world that no longer exists and watch everyone around you die for your stubbornness."
Luna looked back toward the mouth of the alley, where she could see the beam of Chen's flashlight still searching the shadows. Two good men who had responded to help her, now caught in the crossfire of supernatural politics they couldn't possibly understand.
She thought of Damon's business card in her pocket, of his mention of the Frost Pack, of his claim that some werewolves would want to help her.
"If I come with you," she said carefully, "what guarantee do I have that you're one of the helpful ones?"
The wolf's mental voice carried something that might have been approval. "None whatsoever. But the alternative is learning to control your transformation alone while every supernatural creature in the Pacific Northwest tries to claim or kill you."
In the distance, Luna could hear more sirens approaching. The backup Morrison had called for would complicate things exponentially.
She pulled Damon's business card from her pocket, holding it up so the wolf could see it. "Do you know about the Frost Pack?"
The wolf's ears pricked forward, and its mental voice carried surprise. "Damon gave you Kieran's contact information?"
"Who's Kieran?"
"The Alpha you're about to meet."
Part 4: "The Call"
Luna stared at the massive wolf, her mind racing through impossible calculations. Behind her, she could hear more police sirens wailing in the distance, and the officers' voices were growing more agitated as they called for backup and animal control. The supernatural world was about to collide with human authority in a way that would expose everything.
"How do I know you're not leading me into a trap?" she asked the wolf, her hand tightening around Damon's business card.
"You don't," the wolf replied with mental honesty that was somehow more reassuring than false promises would have been. "But consider your alternatives. Stay here, and when more officers arrive, they'll want detailed statements, medical examinations, and forensic evidence. How long do you think it will be before someone notices that your wounds are healing at an impossible rate? Before your blood work comes back showing cellular changes that don't exist in human biology?"
Luna touched her neck instinctively. The wolf was right. Even now, she could feel the puncture wounds closing, the torn flesh knitting itself back together with supernatural efficiency. By morning, there might be nothing left but faint scars.
"And if I come with you?"
"You learn what you are. You meet others who can teach you control. And you discover why every supernatural faction in the Pacific Northwest is going to be very interested in keeping you alive." The wolf's pale blue eyes seemed to glow brighter in the darkness. "The Crimson Bloodline doesn't just make powerful werewolves, Luna. It makes bridges between species. Your blood can forge alliances that have been impossible for centuries."
That caught her attention in a way that pure survival instincts couldn't. "What do you mean, bridges between species?"
"Werewolves aren't the only supernatural beings in Seattle," the wolf said, beginning to pad closer. "There are witches who've been hiding in plain sight for generations, practicing their craft through herbal shops and meditation centers. Some demons have integrated so seamlessly into corporate culture that they control half the tech companies downtown. Vampires are running the city's most exclusive nightclubs, and folks who manage art galleries where they sell genuine magical artifacts as 'contemporary installations.'"
Luna felt her worldview expanding yet again, stretching to accommodate realities that would have seemed like fantasy that morning. The photograph of her great-great-grandmother suddenly made more sense. If werewolves existed, if they had been hiding among humans for generations, then of course there would be others. An entire supernatural ecosystem thriving beneath the surface of modern life.
"And they all know about each other?"
"Know about, yes. Cooperate with? That's far more complicated." The wolf was close enough now that she could see the individual silver hairs in its coat, could smell the wild scent that spoke of forest depths and mountain peaks. "Most supernatural species barely tolerate each other. Ancient grudges, territorial disputes, and fundamental differences in nature make alliance nearly impossible. Demons and angels have been at war since before humans discovered fire. Witches and vampires have competing philosophies about the use of life force. Werewolves and fae folk disagree about whether civilization corrupts or enhances supernatural nature."
"But?"
"But the Crimson Bloodline has historically been able to bridge those gaps. Your great-great-grandmother didn't just lead werewolf packs. She mediated disputes between species, forged treaties that kept supernatural Seattle from tearing itself apart." The wolf's mental voice carried a reverence that made Luna's chest tighten. "Her blood carried something that made other beings trust her instinctively, follow her guidance, work together instead of destroying each other."
Luna looked down at the business card in her hand, then back at the wolf. "And you think I have that same ability?"
"I think you're about to find out. But not if you're dead or locked in a psychiatric ward because you tried to explain werewolves to human authorities." The wolf's ears swiveled toward the mouth of the alley, where the sound of approaching backup was growing louder. "The supernatural community has been fractured for three generations without a Crimson mediator. Tensions are reaching a breaking point. There are factions among my own kind who believe the solution is to eliminate the other species. Demon covens are plotting to enslave werewolf packs. Witch circles are preparing binding spells that could trap vampires in permanent torpor."
The implications hit Luna like a physical blow. "You're talking about a war."
"I'm talking about genocide," the wolf corrected grimly. "Multiple genocides, actually, as each species tries to eliminate the others before they themselves can be destroyed. The only thing that's prevented it so far is the hope that the Crimson Bloodline might return."
Luna pressed her back against the brick wall, overwhelmed by the sudden weight of expectation. Six hours ago, her biggest concern had been finishing inventory at the bookstore. Now she was being told that the survival of multiple supernatural species might depend on her.
"I don't know how to be what you're asking me to be," she said quietly.
"Nobody expects you to know. That's why you need training, guidance, and protection while you learn." The wolf took another step closer, and Luna could see compassion in its pale blue eyes. "The Frost Pack has been preparing for this day for decades. Kieran's grandfather was one of your great-great-grandmother's most trusted allies. The pack has maintained detailed records of Crimson Bloodline abilities, training methods, and political protocols."
Behind them, Luna could hear Officer Morrison calling her name, his voice tight with concern. Chen was coordinating with the approaching backup units, and she caught fragments of radio chatter mentioning animal control and possible drug-related incidents.
"If I come with you," she said, "what happens to them? To the officers who tried to help me?"
"They'll remember responding to a domestic disturbance call that turned out to be a false alarm. Their reports will show they found evidence of a minor altercation, but no victims requiring medical attention." The wolf's mental voice carried absolute certainty. "Memory modification is delicate work, but the witches who handle it for situations like this are very skilled."
"Witches work with werewolves?"
"When it serves mutual interests, yes. Keeping human authorities from discovering our world benefits everyone." The wolf began to turn toward the deeper shadows of the alley. "There's a witch named Sage Winters who handles most of the supernatural cleanup in downtown Seattle. She owes the Frost Pack several favors. Your officers will be safe, and their memories will be intact except for the details that could expose our world."
Luna pulled out her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen. The business card in her other hand had a phone number scrawled in neat handwriting. She could call the police, try to explain what had happened, submit to medical examination, and psychiatric evaluation. She could cling to her human life even as it crumbled around her.
Or she could dial the number on the card and step fully into a world that promised to be infinitely more dangerous and complex than anything she had ever imagined.
"What's your name?" she asked the wolf.
"Thomas Frost. I'm Kieran's uncle and second-in-command of the Frost Pack."
Luna nodded, making her decision with the same decisive clarity that had gotten her through college on scholarships and landed her the bookstore job despite having no retail experience. She had never been someone who hesitated when action was required.
She dialed the number.
The phone was answered on the first ring by a voice that was deep, controlled, and carried an authority that seemed to reach through the speaker and settle in her bones.
"Kieran Frost."
"This is Luna Blackthorne," she said, surprised by how steady her own voice sounded. "Damon Cross told me to call you. He said to tell you he sends his regards."
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. When Kieran spoke again, his voice carried a mixture of urgency and something that might have been relief.
"Where are you?"
"Downtown, near the warehouse district. I'm with someone who says he's Thomas Frost."
Another pause, shorter this time. "Put him on."
Luna looked at the wolf, who somehow managed to convey amusement despite his animal form. "He wants to talk to you."
Thomas Frost shifted, and Luna watched in fascination as his massive wolf form began to blur and reshape itself. Bones cracked and reformed, fur receded into human skin, and within seconds, a tall man in his mid-forties stood before her. He was wearing dark jeans and a leather jacket that somehow hadn't been damaged by his transformation, and his pale blue eyes were the same in human form as they had been as a wolf.
He took the phone from her with steady hands. "Kieran, it's confirmed. She's Crimson Bloodline, awakened less than two hours ago by Damon Cross." A pause as he listened. "Yes, she handled the police situation intelligently. No, she hasn't lost control." Another pause. "We'll be there in twenty minutes."
He handed the phone back to Luna. Kieran's voice was closer to the speaker now, more intimate.
"Luna, I know this is overwhelming, but I need you to trust us. Can you do that?"
She looked at Thomas, who was watching her with an expression of patient encouragement, then back toward the mouth of the alley where Officers Morrison and Chen were still searching for answers they would never find.
"I can try," she said.
"That's all anyone can ask. Thomas will bring you somewhere safe, and we'll explain everything. I promise you, we're going to help you through this."
There was something in his voice that made her chest tighten with an emotion she couldn't name. Not just authority or competence, but genuine care. As if her well-being had suddenly become personally important to him.
"Kieran?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you for answering the phone."
His laugh was warm and entirely human despite everything supernatural about the situation. "Thank you for making the call."
Part 5: "Crossing the Threshold"
Thomas led Luna deeper into the maze of downtown alleys, moving with the confident stride of someone who knew every shadow and shortcut in the city. Behind them, the police sirens were fading, and Luna tried not to think about Officers Morrison and Chen trying to make sense of a situation that would soon be erased from their memories entirely.
"How does it work?" she asked, her enhanced hearing picking up the sound of their footsteps echoing off the brick walls. "The memory modification."
"Carefully," Thomas replied, glancing back at her with those pale blue eyes that looked so different in his human form but carried the same wild intelligence. "Sage doesn't erase memories. She layers new ones over the existing experiences, creates plausible explanations that satisfy the conscious mind while leaving the subconscious intact. It's like... editing a movie. The story changes, but the underlying footage remains."
They emerged from the alley system into a parking garage beneath one of Seattle's newer apartment complexes. Thomas led her to a black SUV that looked ordinary except for the subtle reinforcements around the windows and the fact that it started without him touching any keys.
"Biometric ignition," he explained, noticing her surprise. "Kieran has trust issues."
As they drove through the mostly empty streets, Luna found herself studying Thomas's profile. In human form, he was probably in his mid-forties, with silver threading through dark hair and lines around his eyes that spoke of both laughter and worry. He had the same controlled stillness she had noticed in Damon, but where Damon's composure had felt predatory, Thomas's felt protective.
"How long have you known this day was coming?" she asked.
"My entire life." Thomas navigated through a series of turns that took them away from downtown and toward the more residential areas north of the city. "My father was one of Lydia Crimson's pack lieutenants. He used to tell stories about her abilities, her capacity to bring together species that had been enemies for millennia. When she died, the supernatural community fractured almost immediately."
"What happened to her?"
Thomas's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "She was murdered. Assassinated by a coalition of supernatural beings who believed her influence was growing too strong, that she posed a threat to their individual power structures."
Luna felt something cold settle in her stomach. "And you think the same thing could happen to me."
"I think there are factions who would prefer the supernatural world remain divided and hostile rather than risk losing their individual advantages to unified cooperation." Thomas glanced at her seriously. "But there are also many of us who remember what peace looked like, who want that stability for our children and grandchildren."
They were climbing into the hills now, leaving the city lights behind. Luna could smell pine trees and clean mountain air through the SUV's vents, a sharp contrast to the urban scents that had surrounded her all evening. Her enhanced senses were picking up other things too: the scent of multiple werewolves, wood smoke, and something else she couldn't identify but that made her newly awakened instincts feel both alert and oddly comforted.
"The Frost Pack territory," Thomas said, noticing her reaction. "Your body recognizes pack lands even though your conscious mind doesn't understand what that means yet."
The road curved through dense forest before opening into a clearing where several buildings were clustered together. The main structure was a large wooden lodge that looked like it belonged in a national park, but Luna could see more modern constructions scattered through the trees: smaller cabins, what looked like a training facility, and several buildings whose purposes weren't immediately obvious.
"How many people live here?" she asked as Thomas parked near the main lodge.
"The core pack is about thirty adults, plus children. But we have extended alliances with other supernatural groups throughout the Pacific Northwest. On any given day, there might be fifty or sixty people on the property."
Luna stepped out of the SUV and immediately understood what Thomas had meant about her body recognizing pack lands. The scents and sounds were overwhelming but not unpleasant. Her enhanced hearing picked up conversations from inside the buildings, children laughing somewhere in the distance, the rustle of wind through pine boughs that sounded almost like whispered voices welcoming her home.
Home. The thought surprised her with its intensity. She had never felt truly at home anywhere, not since her parents' death. But standing in this clearing surrounded by forest and the scent of pack, something in her chest loosened for the first time in years.
"Luna."
She turned toward the voice and forgot how to breathe.
Kieran Frost stood in the doorway of the main lodge, and he was nothing like what she had expected from their phone conversation. He was tall, probably six-foot-three, with the kind of muscular build that suggested he spent time doing actual physical labor rather than just working out in a gym. His dark hair was slightly too long, falling across his forehead in a way that made her fingers itch to brush it back. But it was his eyes that made her chest tighten with recognition and something deeper: pale gray like winter storm clouds, and focused on her with an intensity that made her feel like the most important person in the world.
"You made it," he said, walking toward them with fluid grace that reminded her of Thomas's wolf form. "How are you holding up?"
"Better than I expected," Luna replied, surprised to find that it was true. The overwhelming fear and confusion of the past few hours had settled into something more manageable: wariness mixed with curiosity and a growing sense that she was exactly where she needed to be.
Kieran stopped about three feet away from her, close enough that she could smell his scent: pine trees and leather and something uniquely male that made her newly awakened senses flutter with interest. His eyes searched her face with careful attention, and she had the impression he was cataloging details, assessing her condition in ways that had nothing to do with casual politeness.
"The transformation is progressing faster than usual," he said to Thomas without taking his eyes off Luna. "Her scent is already shifting toward full werewolf rather than human-with-bite. That's..."
"Unusual?" Luna supplied.
"Powerful," Kieran corrected, his voice carrying a note of something that might have been awe. "Most new werewolves take weeks to complete the initial change. You're doing it in hours."
"Is that good or bad?"
"It's Crimson Bloodline," Thomas said behind her. "Everything about your transformation is going to be different from normal werewolf protocols."
Kieran nodded, then gestured toward the lodge. "There are people you need to meet, things you need to understand before tomorrow night."
"What happens tomorrow night?"
Kieran and Thomas exchanged a look that made Luna's enhanced instincts prickle with unease.
"The full moon," Kieran said quietly. "Your first transformation will happen whether you're ready or not. We have less than twenty-four hours to teach you enough control to survive it."
As they walked toward the lodge, Luna caught sight of other figures moving through the shadows between buildings. Not all of them looked entirely human. She glimpsed someone whose silhouette suggested wings folded against their back, another whose movements were too fluid and graceful to be bound by normal physical limitations.
"Thomas," she said quietly, "you mentioned other supernatural species. Are some of them here now?"
"The pack has alliances with several non-werewolf groups," Thomas replied carefully. "Representatives from allied factions often visit, especially when significant events are occurring."
"And my awakening counts as a significant event?"
"Your awakening," said a new voice from the lodge doorway, "counts as the most significant supernatural event in three generations."
Luna looked up to see a woman in her early thirties with auburn hair and green eyes that seemed to glow with their own inner light. She was beautiful in an otherworldly way that made Luna think of fairy tale illustrations, but there was steel beneath the ethereal appearance.
"Luna Blackthorne," the woman said, stepping forward with a slight bow that managed to be respectful without being subservient, "I'm Sage Winters. I've been looking forward to meeting you."
Luna recognized the name immediately. "You're the witch who's going to modify the officers' memories."
"Among other things, yes." Sage's smile revealed teeth that were just slightly too sharp to be entirely human. "But more importantly, I'm here to help you understand the full scope of what you're inheriting. The Crimson Bloodline's abilities extend far beyond werewolf politics."
"What do you mean?"
Sage glanced at Kieran, who nodded almost imperceptibly. "Your great-great-grandmother wasn't just a werewolf who could mediate disputes between supernatural species. She was something rarer: a supernatural being whose very existence could bridge the fundamental magical differences between creatures of different origins."
Luna felt that familiar sensation of her worldview expanding yet again. "I don't understand."
"Werewolves are creatures of earth magic," Sage explained, her voice taking on the cadence of a teacher. "Our power comes from the natural world, from moon cycles and seasonal changes, and the primal forces that governed life before civilization. Vampires draw their abilities from blood magic, from the manipulation of life force itself. Demons and angels tap into celestial energies. Fae folk work with glamour and illusion magic that exists between reality and dream."
"Okay," Luna said slowly. "And?"
"And normally, those different magical sources don't mix. A werewolf can't cast the same spells as a witch. A vampire can't access fae glamour. The magical systems are fundamentally incompatible." Sage's green eyes began to glow brighter. "But the Crimson Bloodline can channel multiple magical sources simultaneously. You won't just be a powerful werewolf, Luna. You'll be a supernatural nexus, capable of wielding abilities from multiple species."
The implications hit Luna like a physical blow. Not only was she expected to mediate between supernatural factions, she was apparently going to develop magical abilities that defied the basic rules of how supernatural power worked.
"That's impossible," she said weakly.
"So was your transformation speed," Kieran pointed out gently. "So was the fact that you maintained perfect rational control during your encounter with Thomas despite being less than three hours into your change. The Crimson Bloodline has always been about transcending the normal limitations of werewolf nature."
Luna looked around at the faces watching her expectantly: Thomas with his protective concern, Kieran with his storm-gray eyes full of something that looked like hope, Sage with her otherworldly beauty and sharp intelligence. In the shadows beyond them, she could see other figures gathering, all of them focused on her with the intensity of people whose lives might depend on what she chose to do next.
"What if I can't be what you need me to be?" she asked quietly.
"Then we'll all die," said a voice from the darkness beyond the lodge lights.
Everyone turned toward the sound, and Luna felt her blood run cold as a familiar figure stepped into the light. Damon Cross looked exactly as he had in the alley, but now she could see details that her human vision had missed. His clothes were expensive and perfectly tailored. His movements carried the confidence of someone accustomed to command. And his pale yellow eyes held a desperation that made him far more dangerous than simple predatory hunger would have.
"Damon," Kieran's voice carried warning and the promise of violence. "You weren't invited."
"I don't need invitations to protect my investment," Damon replied, his gaze fixed on Luna. "Especially when that investment is about to be endangered by your pack's naive idealism."
"What are you talking about?" Luna demanded.
Damon smiled, showing those too-sharp teeth. "Did they tell you about the other packs, little wolf? About the ones who don't want a Crimson mediator disrupting their carefully maintained power structures?" His smile widened as he saw understanding dawn in her eyes. "Three other werewolf Alphas are traveling to Seattle as we speak, each with their own plans for your future. And not all of those plans involve keeping you alive long enough to develop your abilities."
The revelation hit the group like a physical blow. Luna could see the shock and anger on Kieran's face, the grim resignation on Thomas's, the calculating assessment on Sage's.
"How do you know this?" Kieran asked, his voice deadly quiet.
"Because," Damon said, his desperate smile taking on a triumphant edge, "I'm the one who told them where to find her."