From Revenge To Luna

Chapter 1: Beneath the Full Moon

The night Mason died, the air carried the heavy scent of pine and the faint metallic tang of blood. I stood at the edge of the forest, staring at the twisted remnants of his body. The moon above me was full, casting its silver light across the ground, but it didn’t offer comfort. Instead, it mocked me, its cold brilliance illuminating the truth I couldn’t escape.

He was gone.

Mason, my first love, the one who had seen me through the turbulence of my youth and the chaos of my first transformation. His lifeless body lay crumpled like a discarded leaf, and the mark of his killer was unmistakable. A jagged bite tore through his neck, a signature unique to the werewolf who had done this. The world spun as the realization sank in—Kieran. My mate.

I dropped to my knees, the cold earth biting into my skin through my jeans. My wolf howled within me, torn between anguish and rage. The bond I shared with Kieran burned like poison in my veins, a cruel reminder that the man fated to be my other half had committed this violent act.

“I’ll kill him,” I whispered into the empty night, my voice shaking. It wasn’t a threat, it was a promise.

The days after Mason’s death passed in a blur of grief and unanswered questions. I isolated myself, retreating to the safety of my family’s cabin deep in the forest. It was the only place where the pack couldn’t reach me, where I could grieve without their pitying looks and hushed whispers.

The cabin was a relic of simpler times, built by my great-grandfather before humans encroached on our territory. Its wooden beams were rough-hewn and sturdy, the scent of cedar lingering in the air. Here, I could pretend that my world hadn’t been shattered.

But pretending wasn’t enough. I needed answers.

Kieran had vanished the night Mason died. No one in the pack had seen him since, and the silence left a gaping wound in my chest. Part of me wanted to believe there was some explanation, some reason that didn’t involve betrayal. But the evidence was damning. The bite mark on Mason’s throat was distinct, a cruel mockery of the bond Kieran and I were supposed to share.

I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms. The bond was still there, a faint thread connecting me to Kieran. It was weaker now, frayed by his absence and my growing hatred, but it persisted, mocking me. I wanted to sever it, to break free from the Moon Goddess’s cruel design, but such things weren’t within my control.

Two weeks later, I made my decision. If the pack wouldn’t act, I would.

I left the cabin under the cover of darkness, my senses heightened as I navigated the dense forest. The rumors had led me to a human town on the edge of werewolf territory—a place where hunters whispered of monsters and men with silver bullets. If anyone could help me find Kieran and exact my revenge, it was Callum Graves.

Callum’s reputation was as sharp as the blade he carried. A man who had made a name for himself hunting my kind, he was both feared and respected in equal measure. I’d heard tales of him since I was a teenager—stories of his skill, his ruthlessness, and his uncanny ability to track werewolves like prey.

I didn’t trust him, but I didn’t need to. All I needed was his expertise.

The bar where I found him was dimly lit, the scent of alcohol and smoke thick in the air. It wasn’t the kind of place I frequented, but it was perfect for a man like Callum—rough around the edges and full of secrets.

He sat at the far end of the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey. His presence was magnetic, drawing my gaze despite the dim light. Callum was lean but muscular, his broad shoulders and confident posture speaking of years of training and discipline. His dark hair was slightly tousled, as though he hadn’t bothered with appearances, and his sharp, angular features were shadowed by stubble.

But it was his eyes that caught me. They were a piercing grey, like storm clouds on the verge of breaking, and they seemed to see right through me as I approached.

“You’re Ember Calloway,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. It wasn’t a question.

“How do you…”

“You reek of wolf,” he interrupted, his lips curling into a smirk. “And you’ve been following me for three days.”

So much for subtlety.

“I need your help,” I said, cutting to the chase.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “A wolf asking for help from a hunter. That’s rich.”

“This isn’t a joke,” I snapped, my anger flaring. “Kieran Blackthorn killed someone I cared about, and I need you to help me find him.”

His smirk faded, replaced by something colder. “Blackthorn,” he repeated, the name rolling off his tongue like a curse. “I’ve heard of him. Dangerous. But why would I help you?”

“Because you hate us,” I said bluntly. “And because I can pay.”

He studied me for a long moment, his grey eyes searching mine. “This isn’t about justice, is it?” he asked finally. “You’re out for blood.”

I didn’t deny it. “Will you help me or not?”

For a moment, I thought he’d refuse. But then he nodded, a grim smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Fine. But you won’t like what you find.”

Our partnership was uneasy at best. Callum didn’t trust me, and I didn’t trust him. But we had a shared goal, and that was enough—for now.

He was efficient, I’d give him that. In the span of a week, he uncovered more about Kieran’s movements than I had in two weeks of searching. The trail led us to a small, abandoned town deep in the forest, a place where the lines between human and wolf blurred.

As we tracked Kieran, I found myself drawn to Callum in ways I hadn’t expected. He was infuriating, with his cocky smirks and sharp tongue, but there was something beneath the surface—a pain that mirrored my own. He hid it well, but in the quiet moments, when his guard was down, I caught glimpses of it.

I hated how much I noticed.

But noticing didn’t mean trusting. And trust, I reminded myself, was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Not with a killer on the loose and revenge burning in my veins.

The night we finally caught Kieran’s scent, the bond between us flared to life, a painful reminder of what we’d once shared. My wolf stirred, torn between longing and fury. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to focus. This wasn’t about love or betrayal anymore. This was about justice—about making him pay for what he’d done.

Callum glanced at me, his expression unreadable. “You ready for this?”

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

As we stepped into the shadows, the hunt began.