Alpha's Hidden Luna

The village of Willowbrook was quiet tonight, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. A crescent moon hung low in the sky, its pale light spilling across the rooftops like a watchful eye. Evelyn adjusted her shawl against the chill, her basket of herbs swinging gently at her side as she walked home from the woods. She preferred the forest at night. It was safer, oddly enough, away from prying eyes and whispered gossip. The villagers tolerated her because of her healing skills, but she knew what they really thought of her. ‘Witch,’ they’d mutter under their breaths. ‘Odd girl with her strange remedies and questions about the stars.’ They weren’t entirely wrong. Evelyn paused at the edge of the clearing, her gaze drawn to the crescent-shaped scar on her wrist. It was pale and delicate, almost unnoticeable unless the light hit it just right. She traced it absently, as she often did when she felt restless. She didn’t know how she’d gotten it; the mark had been there as long as she could remember. Sometimes, it felt like it pulsed, like it held some secret she couldn’t reach. A sharp howl pierced the night, startling her out of her thoughts. Evelyn froze, clutching her basket tightly. Wolves weren’t uncommon in the area, but something about the sound sent a shiver down her spine. It wasn’t just a wolf—it was something bigger, deeper, and far more dangerous. The trees rustled behind her. She spun around, heart racing. “Who’s there?” she called, her voice trembling. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the usual nighttime symphony of crickets and owls falling eerily silent. She tightened her grip on the basket, ready to use it as a weapon if needed. A figure stepped out of the shadows, his movements graceful yet predatory. He was tall, with sharp features and piercing golden eyes that glowed faintly in the moonlight. Evelyn’s breath hitched. He was unlike any man she’d ever seen, and yet… there was something hauntingly familiar about him. “Evelyn,” he said, his voice a deep rumble that sent a jolt through her. He spoke her name like he’d been saying it for years, like he owned it. “How do you know my name?” she demanded, taking a cautious step back. Her pulse thundered in her ears. She should run, scream for help, do something, but her feet refused to move. The man tilted his head, studying her. There was a flicker of pain in his eyes before it disappeared behind a mask of cold detachment. “I’ve always known your name.” “That doesn’t make any sense,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her instincts screamed at her to flee, but the weight of his gaze held her in place. She felt like a mouse caught in the claws of a hawk—terrified but unable to look away. “You should go home,” he said abruptly, his tone sharp. “It’s not safe for you out here.” “Who are you?” she asked, her fear giving way to defiance. If he was going to threaten her, she wasn’t going down without a fight. “What do you want?” He hesitated, as if weighing his answer. “You’ll know soon enough.” Before she could respond, another howl echoed through the forest, closer this time. The man’s expression darkened, and he stepped closer to her, his presence overwhelming. “Go,” he commanded, his voice low and urgent. “Now.” Evelyn didn’t wait to be told again. She turned and ran, her heart pounding in her chest. The path back to the village felt longer than usual, the shadows closing in around her. She could feel the weight of his gaze even after he was out of sight, like he was still watching her, guarding her. When she finally reached the safety of her small cottage, she bolted the door behind her and leaned against it, her chest heaving. Her hands were trembling, the basket of herbs forgotten at her feet. Who was that man? And why had his voice sounded like a memory she couldn’t quite grasp? Evelyn sank onto the edge of her bed, staring at the scar on her wrist. It was warm now, almost hot, as if reacting to something—or someone. She clenched her fist, trying to shake off the strange feeling. Outside the cottage, hidden in the shadows of the trees, Lucian watched her with a mix of longing and regret. He could still feel the bond between them, faint but unbroken. She didn’t remember him—yet. But the moment he’d dreaded was coming. Fate was already in motion, and he couldn’t stop it. “She’s not safe,” he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with pain. Behind him, a pair of glowing red eyes appeared in the darkness, accompanied by a sinister growl.