Marked by The Moon

The full moon hovered high above the tree line, casting silver light across the Silverridge estate. Shadows danced along the ground as the pack celebrated behind me, their laughter and howls carrying through the night air like smoke. I should’ve been inside, dancing and smiling, letting them toast to me and my eighteenth birthday. Instead, I stood at the edge of the clearing, arms wrapped around myself, pretending the cold breeze was the reason I was shaking. I’d always been different. Not in the special, admired way. In the quiet, whispered-about kind of way. The girl who never shifted. The pup who never dreamed. The orphan. They said my parents died in a rogue attack when I was barely a toddler—too young to remember their faces. But sometimes, I swore I did. A scent. A lullaby. A pair of hands holding mine in the dark. The Silverridge Pack took me in after that. More specifically, my mother’s older brother—Alpha Carter—claimed me as family and gave me a place in his household. But he was always more leader than uncle. More command than comfort. He didn’t coddle, didn’t indulge, didn’t let me roam freely like the others. While the young trained, played, and shifted together, I was tutored alone, my world boxed in by watchful eyes and vague reassurances. He told me it was for my protection. That I needed structure and distance. That I was “fragile.” Later, when I never shifted, he gave me a gentler excuse. “Some wolves never change, Ayla,” he’d say, with a controlled smile. “You’re not broken. You’re simply wolfless. It’s rare, but not impossible. You’ll still live a good life. You’ll still serve your pack.” Still serve. Still be useful. Even without a wolf. I pulled the thin shawl tighter over my arms and glanced back at the pack house. Light spilled through the windows. Music pulsed beneath the sound of clinking glasses and laughter. I caught sight of Megan, my best friend, twirling under strings of golden lights, her reddish curls bouncing as she laughed at something a warrior said. She didn’t notice I was gone. Not yet. My stomach twisted. I wasn’t angry. She deserved to be happy. She’d shifted at sixteen, already had her wolf, already knew who she was. Most of them did. That was the way of it—shift early, find your path. Everyone else just… waited. And eventually stopped waiting. I let out a shaky breath and stepped farther into the woods, where the trees grew thicker and the moonlight softened. My heart pounded in rhythm with the ache in my chest. I couldn’t take a full breath. Something inside me felt stretched, tight, like I was seconds away from tearing apart. I wasn’t supposed to feel this. Not after eighteen years of nothing. No dreams, no shifting, no wolf. But something had changed. And it terrified me. I stumbled forward, deeper into the trees, my hands pressed to my ribs like I could hold myself together. My knees hit the earth before I realized I was falling. A cry escaped my throat—not from pain, but from pressure. Raw, building pressure. It wasn’t just heat or ache anymore. It was movement. A shimmer under my skin. My bones trembled. I gasped, eyes wide. “No… no, this can’t be—” A growl stopped me. It wasn’t mine. I froze, every instinct firing at once. Fear. Caution. Curiosity. From the shadows stepped a wolf—larger than any I’d ever seen. His coat was pitch black, like moonlight had no right to touch him, and his eyes… silver. Glowing. His presence hit me like a wave, hot and dizzying. Not just because of what he was, but because of what I felt. Something inside me recognized him. My body went still. My blood screamed run. But the rest of me—the part I'd never known until this moment—leaned toward him. The wolf stepped closer, slow and deliberate. He didn’t growl again. He just looked at me, head tilted slightly, as if confirming something he already knew. Then he shifted. Bones cracked. Fur melted into skin. And in the place of the black wolf stood a man—tall, dark, shirtless, his eyes still glowing faintly in the moonlight. He looked dangerous. Powerful. And completely calm. “You’re late,” he said softly. I blinked. “W-What?” “I’ve been waiting for you,” he murmured. “For a long time.” I tried to stand, but the ache returned—stronger now, blinding. My vision swam. The pressure burst across my skin, hot and wild, and I screamed. The man moved instantly, catching me before I hit the ground. Strong arms wrapped around me, grounding me as my body trembled. My skin felt like it was being peeled open from the inside. “Easy,” he said. “Don’t fight it. Your wolf is ready.” “No,” I whispered, but my voice broke under the force of what was happening. “I don’t have a—” But I did. Because whatever was inside me… was finally breaking free. The pain stole my voice. My body trembled in his arms. Something inside me shifted. Changed. And as the darkness closed in, the last thing I saw was his expression—not surprised. Not afraid. He knew exactly what I was. “You’re not just any wolf,” he whispered. “You’re silver.” And then everything went black.