Moonbound to the Alpha

The Journal

The next morning, Rhea stared into the bathroom mirror, her hands gripping the edges of the porcelain sink.

Her reflection looked different. Her eyes, usually a dull brown, looked brighter, sharper. She pressed her palm over her ribs, feeling her pulse thudding at a rapid, unnatural speed. Something inside her had shifted overnight.

Everything felt different after what happened in the clearing. The forest, Lucci, her own heartbeat—it was as if an ancient lock had snapped open inside her chest, and there was no turning back.

At school, she did not wait around. She caught Lucci in the student parking lot before the first bell rang, stepping directly into his path as he shut his truck door.

"We need to talk," she said, keeping her voice low.

Lucci glanced around the lot, scanning the crowd of students before settling on her face. He gave a single nod. "Not here. After school."

They met where the old dirt trail curved past the tree line and ran down toward the dry creek bed. The sun was dipping low behind the mountain, casting long, orange shafts of light through the pines. Lucci was waiting on a flat boulder, holding a heavy, leather-bound book.

"This belonged to my father," he said, holding it out to her.

Rhea took it carefully. The leather was cold and worn smooth by years of handling.

She flipped the cover open. The pages inside were yellowed, covered in dense, handwritten entries, intricate sketches of wolves, moon phases, and branch-like family trees that stretched back generations.

Her breath hitched. Halfway down one of the lineage trees, written in faded black ink, was a name she knew.

"Calderon," she whispered, her finger tracing the ink. "Why is my family name in here?"

Lucci stood beside her, his shadow long against the dirt. "Because you belong to this place, Rhea. You might not be full-blooded, and you haven't turned, but the blood is in you."

Her hands trembled as she turned the pages. She passed entries describing moon cycles, latent bloodlines, and physical triggers. One passage was underlined in dark ink: The call strengthens as the sixteenth year approaches. Those who do not awaken early may still trigger later, often brought on by trauma, fear, or profound loss.

"My brother," she said, her throat tight. "Eli was close to shifting when he vanished, wasn't he?"

Lucci’s jaw softened slightly, a flicker of genuine remorse crossing his face. "Yes. He was displaying the signs. Too close, too fast. That's why they targeted him."

"Who?"

"The rogues," Lucci said, his voice dropping. "Wolves who broke off from the pack laws. They track down young, unawakened bloodlines before they understand what they are or how to protect themselves."

Rhea felt the ground beneath her boots sway. "Why did no one tell us? Why didn't my mom say anything?"

"We tried," Lucci said quietly. "But after Eli went missing, your mother panicked. She took you and ran before the pack could step in."

She closed the journal with a thud, her fingers digging into the worn leather. "So what happens to me now?"

Lucci looked at her, unblinking. "You’ll awaken. You can't stop it now. The physical signs are already starting—the senses, the dreams, the pull. It’s in motion."

"Then teach me how to handle it," she said, staring straight into his eyes.

He hesitated, studying her face. "Are you sure, Rhea? Once you step into this, there’s no going back to a normal life."

"If those things are out there, I’m not waiting around for them to pick me off," she said. "Teach me."

Lucci watched her for a long second, then nodded slowly. "Tonight. At the clearing."

When night fell, Rhea bundled into a thick hoodie, laced up her boots, and slipped out into the cold yard. Lucci was already standing in the center of the stone circle, barefoot in the damp grass, his shoulders broad against the moonlight.

"First, you have to learn how to ground yourself," he said as she approached. "Close your eyes. Stop trying to look with your vision. Listen."

Rhea closed her eyes and took a slow breath, forcing her shoulders to drop. At first, all she heard was the pounding of her own heart.

"Deeper," Lucci’s voice rasped nearby.

She let her breath out. Slowly, the forest opened up around her. She heard the dry crunch of leaves shifting a hundred yards away, the distant rush of wind through the high canopy, and the slow trickle of water underground. And beneath all of it, vibrating through the soles of her boots, was a low, steady thrum—like a deep bass note buried in the dirt.

"That’s the pulse of the forest," Lucci whispered. "It anchors us. You're never completely isolated out here."

He stepped closer and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small silver pendant hanging from a dark leather cord. It was etched with the same symbols from his father's book. He handed it to her.

"This will help keep your head clear when the heat spikes. It belonged to my aunt—she was like you, caught between human and wolf."

The silver felt ice-cold against her palm at first, but within seconds, it warmed up, radiating a subtle, steady heat straight up her arm. She looped it around her neck and tucked it beneath her shirt.

For the next two hours, they moved through the trees. Lucci pushed her—testing her reaction times, forcing her to dodge, turn, and navigate the uneven ground in pitch darkness. She tripped twice, scraping her knees on roots, but as the time passed, her movements smoothed out. Her body began to react before her brain could overthink it.

Lucci caught her by the forearm as she ducked around a heavy fir tree, stopping her momentum. "You're fast," he noted, his breath puffing white in the cold air. "Unusually fast for someone who hasn't fully awakened."

Rhea wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek, a small, stubborn tilt to her chin. "Must be the bloodline."

They sat down to rest on a fallen oak log near the edge of the clearing. Rhea leaned back, wiping sweat from her forehead, her fingers resting over the silver pendant beneath her shirt.

"Why are you doing this for me, Lucci?" she asked, looking sideways at him. "You could have just told me to leave town again."

Lucci looked out into the dark woods, his profile sharp against the moonlight. "Because I was too young to save Eli five years ago," he said, his voice flat and hard. "I'm not letting them take you, too."

Rhea swallowed hard, her throat feeling dry.

Lucci turned his head, his golden eyes fixing on her face. "And it's not just that. You were never just anyone to me, Rhea. Even when we were twelve, I felt the draw. I knew you belonged here."

The air between them grew heavy, charged with that same static heat from the night before.

"I don't need you to save me," she murmured, stepping closer to him. "I want to be able to fight."

Lucci’s mouth curved into a slow, grim smile, his eyes burning gold in the dark. "Then I’ll fight for you."