The Luna He Didn't Deserve

The Trap

Chapter 9 – The Trap

(Play with Fire -- Sam Tinnesz)

Every step beyond Silver Ridge’s boundary felt heavier, like the air itself had thickened, pressing in with quiet warning. The deeper they went, the darker it became. Moonlight struggled to break through the dense canopy overhead, leaving the ground below smeared with shadows and broken strips of pale silver. The earth was damp beneath Elena’s boots, the smell of pine, moss, and old rain thick in the air. Somewhere far off, a branch snapped, then silence folded back over the trees like a held breath.

Damian led the patrol with clipped precision, his posture calm, his senses clearly working ahead of everyone else. Cole stayed just behind him, while the other wolves spread into a controlled formation, careful not to drift too far from one another. Elena stayed closest to Damian, not because she liked the arrangement, but because the way the forest felt now made distance seem stupid.

“You stay with me,”

Damian said, without looking back.

“I am,” Elena replied.

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” Damian said.

“I didn’t take it as one,” Elena answered.

His jaw tightened slightly, but he let that go. There were bigger things pressing in around them now than her refusal to be ordered around.

The ground told a story beneath their feet. Broken branches. Clawed bark. Deep tracks impressed into mud, then deliberately trampled over by other tracks. Whoever had come through here hadn’t been trying to hide. They had been shaping the trail, twisting it, forcing anyone who followed to move exactly where they wanted.

“They doubled back here,” Cole said, crouching briefly near a disturbed patch of soil.

“They’re not hiding,” Elena said, scanning the marks more carefully. “They’re guiding.”

“To where?” Damian asked.

Elena straightened slowly, her gaze moving toward the thickest part of the woods ahead.

“Somewhere they control,” she said.

That sat badly with everyone.

Damian signaled for the others to tighten their formation. The patrol shifted as one, wolves spreading just enough to cover the weak points without leaving gaps. He said nothing else for a few moments, but Elena could feel the change in him. He had gone from alert to razor-focused, and the tension in his calm was starting to show through.

A signal sounded faintly from ahead. Two short calls. Then nothing.

“That’s wrong,” Cole muttered.

Before anyone could respond, the forest shifted.

It happened all at once. One moment there was only stillness, the next there was motion slicing between the trunks. A body lunged out of the shadows toward the far right edge of the patrol, then vanished again before a counterstrike could land.

“Contact!” one of the wolves barked.

The attack wasn’t wild. That was what made it terrifying. Rogues usually rushed like hunger with teeth, all chaos and noise and instinct. These moved with purpose. They hit the outer line, forced the pack to react, then slipped back before they could be pinned down. Another pair came from the left, driving two wolves apart. A third strike came from behind, just enough to twist the formation loose.

“Hold formation!” Damian commanded.

The wolves responded instantly, but Elena saw the pattern before the others did. These rogues weren’t trying to break through to the center. They were peeling the edges back, pulling attention outward.

“They’re not trying to kill us!” Elena shouted.

Damian’s head snapped toward her.

“They’re separating us!” she added. And right on cue, the formation broke.

A wolf on the outside flank crashed into another as two rogues hit him at once. The line opened for half a second. That was all the rogues needed. Three of them shifted direction as one and went straight for Elena.

“Elena!” Damian roared.

One rogue caught her arm. Another came around behind her. A third threw itself between Damian and the gap. Elena twisted hard, ripping free before the first grip could lock. Pain flared where claws scraped her skin, but she kept moving. Instinct took over. Not toward the pack.

Away from them. Because now she understood exactly what this had been from the start. They wanted her alone.

“Don’t follow me!” she shouted, even though she knew Damian would.

Branches tore at her as she ran. Twigs snapped underfoot. Low brush caught at her boots, slowing her just enough to make panic flare, but she shoved through it. Her breath came hard and fast, hot against the cold air. Her leg throbbed where she’d already pushed it too far, each step sending a dull warning up through her body. Still, she didn’t stop.

Her foot caught on a root. She stumbled, hit one knee, and barely caught herself before falling fully into the dirt. Pain shot up her leg, sharp enough to steal her breath, but she pushed back up and ran harder, because stopping here felt like surrender.

She burst into a clearing and stopped so fast the force of it rocked her backward.

The moonlight spilled over the clearing in pale gray sheets, making the grass gleam damply. There were no shrubs to hide behind, no thick trees immediately around her, no easy escape route. The silence here felt wrong, complete in a way that only happened when something had forced the entire forest to hold still.

Slow clapping echoed from the opposite side of the clearing.

“Well done,” the rogue leader said.

He stepped out of the dark like he had all the time in the world. He was taller than the others, broader along the shoulders, his movements loose with confidence instead of tension. The rest of the rogues emerged behind him in a loose half-circle, not close enough to touch her, but close enough to make the threat obvious.

Elena forced herself upright, drawing in one slow breath after another until the worst of her panic cooled into anger.

“You wanted me,” she said.

The rogue leader smiled.

“Not me,” he said. “I’m just the one sent to collect.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Collect me for what?” Elena asked.

The smile sharpened.

“Someone out there wants you and your unborn bundle of joy, have lived too long,” he said. “And they’re willing to pay to fix that.”

The world tilted.

For one terrible second, Elena forgot to breathe. Her hand nearly flew to her stomach on instinct, but she stopped herself just in time. The baby. They knew about the baby. Not guessed. Knew.

Her heart slammed so hard it hurt.

“Who?” she demanded.

The rogue tilted his head.

“If they wanted you to know,” he said, “you’d already be dead.”

The words settled over the clearing like frost.

Elena’s mind raced. Ryker? No. If Ryker knew, he would come himself or send wolves to drag her back, not rogues to kill her. The elders? Serena? Someone else? The possibilities crashed into each other too fast to hold. She forced herself still, because panic was exactly what he wanted to see.

“So this is it?” she asked. “You drag me out here, surround me, and hope I just give up?”

A low chuckle left him.

“No,” he said. “I dragged you out here… so he follows.”

A growl tore through the clearing.

Damian.

He stepped through the trees like violence given shape, his green eyes fixed on the rogues and his entire body coiled tight with the promise of what would happen if any of them moved closer.

“You’re not taking her,” Damian said.

The rogue leader didn’t look surprised.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he replied.

The wolves behind him shifted.

Ready.

This wasn’t just about Elena anymore. It was about Damian, about Silver Ridge, about proving they could strike where they wanted and leave with whatever they came for.

“You’re not rogues,” Damian said.

The leader smiled slightly.

“No,” he said. “We’re just the problem you didn’t see coming.”

Everything stilled for half a heartbeat.

Then the clearing exploded.

Damian moved first, slamming into the nearest rogue with brutal force. Cole and two other Silver Ridge wolves burst through the trees a second later, hitting the outer line before the rogues could close in around Elena. The clearing filled with snarls, impact, bodies colliding in streaks of shadow and muscle. Elena staggered backward, trying to put distance between herself and the center of the fight, but one rogue broke free of the clash and came straight for her.

She barely had time to turn.

A body slammed into him from the side.

Liora.

She hit the rogue hard enough to send both of them skidding through the wet grass before she recovered first, driving him back with a viciousness Elena hadn’t seen up close before.

“Stay behind me!” Liora snapped.

“I don’t need—” Elena started.

“You’re the reason they’re here!” Liora cut in. “So for once, stop making it worse!”

The words hit harder than Elena wanted to admit. Not because they were entirely fair, but because part of them might be true. She swallowed the response that rose to her lips. There wasn’t room for pride here.

Across the clearing, Damian tore through the rogues with terrifying control, forcing them back step by step. His movements were precise, efficient, with none of the waste that came from anger, even though Elena could see fury burning under every strike. The rogue leader watched him like this was all part of the plan, then took one slow step back.

“Not today,” he said.

And just like that, the rogues broke away.

They vanished into the trees almost as quickly as they had appeared, leaving only torn earth, broken grass, and the harsh sound of everyone catching their breath.

The silence that followed felt heavier than the fight.

Damian turned immediately. “Elena,” he said.

“I’m fine,” she replied too fast.

Liora stepped forward, her expression hard.

“This is exactly what I warned about,” Liora said. “They came for her. Not the pack. Her.”

Damian’s face darkened.

“That doesn’t change anything,” he said.

“It changes everything,” Liora snapped. “You brought a target into our territory!”

Elena stepped in before he could answer, the words leaving her before she could rethink them.

“Then I’ll leave,” she said.

That stopped all of them. For a moment, no one moved.

“No,” Damian said.

“Yes,” Elena replied. “You heard her. This is because of me.”

“She’s right,” Liora said immediately.

Damian’s gaze snapped to her. “No,” he said again. “She’s not.”

But the damage was already done. Standing there in the wreckage of the clearing, Elena realized something she couldn’t ignore anymore. Whatever had found her… Wasn’t going to stop.

Elena took a step back. Not from the rogues, or the clearing, but them. From Silver Ridge.

“This is because of me,” she said, quieter now—but steadier. “You have all heard it. They’re not hunting the pack. They’re hunting me.”

“No,” Damian said immediately.

“Yes,” Elena replied. “And if I stay, they keep coming. They won’t stop at your border next time.”

“They won’t get that far,” Damian said.

“You don’t know that,” she shot back.

“I won’t be the reason your pack bleeds,” she said, turning slightly. Preparing to walk.

“Elena—”

“Don’t,” she cut him off. “This isn’t your responsibility.”

That word again. Responsibility. Something in Damian snapped. He moved fast—closing the distance between them before she could take another step.

“Yes,” he said, his voice low, sharper than before. “It is.”

Elena froze. “No,” she said. “It’s not. You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough,” Damian said.

“That’s not good enough,” she pushed back. “Not for this.”

“It is for me.” Damian’s gaze locked onto hers. “I’m protecting what’s mine.”

The words landed.

Elena stilled. “… What?” she asked.

For a moment— He didn’t soften. Didn’t step back. Didn’t take it back.

“You’re my mate,” Damian said.