Scarred by Moonlight

Chapter 2: In Blood and Blinding Fury

Olrun’s POV

The sleek, modern office that housed the Bloody Crescent Pack’s human operations was bathed in the soft glow of morning light filtering through the large windows. The Bloody Crescent Pack’s headquarters, Obsidian Security, in the city was a mix of corporate sophistication and hidden power.

In the center of it all, Olrun sat at the head of the conference table, his posture rigid, his eyes scanning through the stack of paperwork in front of him. The smooth, polished wood surface reflected his sharp gaze, and the faint hum of the city outside barely registered in his mind. He was used to the cacophony of noise outside, but today, it felt like there was an invisible weight hanging over him. His wolf, Atlas was pacing again.

“Something is wrong, Olrun. I feel it.”

Olrun ran his hand through his dark hair, “You’re just restless, Atlas. We’ll take to the woods soon.”

Atlas, ever grumpy, continued his pacing, now pissed that Olrun wasn’t heeding his warning, however vague it was.

His Beta, Ryker, lounged in one of the chairs, leaning back with his legs stretched out under the table. He wasn’t exactly paying attention to the meeting—his eyes were fixed on Olrun’s assistant, a stunning young she-wolf who was bent over her desk, working on some reports. Ryker had always had a knack for spotting anything remotely attractive, and Olrun knew better than to try and rein him in. He could see the perverse thoughts running wild in his best friend’s filthy mind, and knew that he’d be looking for another assistant soon.

Across from him, Grayson, the Gamma, was texting someone with his usual distracted air. He wasn’t paying attention either, his eyes locked on his phone screen as his fingers danced over the keys. Olrun’s eyes narrowed as he noticed the familiar name lighting up the screen—Estella. Grayson was the most p***y whipped wolf Olrun had ever met. You’d think he and Estella were newly mated teenagers, but no they’d been mated for 9 years and he was still buried so far into her cunt, he was starting to smell like it.

“Ryker,” Olrun began, his voice cutting through the distracted atmosphere, “Grayson, focus.”

Both men looked up, snapping to attention with sheepish grins. Ryker straightened up, still trying to sneak a final glance at the assistant, but his lips pulled into a tight grin. Grayson, on the other hand, didn’t even try to hide the slight smirk that tugged at his lips as he continued texting his mate.

Olrun took a deep breath, knowing he’d need to address the more pressing matter at hand. “We have bigger problems than your—” he paused, looking pointedly at Ryker, “—distractions. We need to discuss Hanma.”

The room grew silent as Ryker shifted in his seat, his easy-going demeanor giving way to the seriousness of the conversation. Grayson, too, put his phone down and gave Olrun his full attention.

“Hanma’s becoming a problem,” Olrun continued, his voice cold, his focus now entirely on the matter at hand. “His requests for clean-ups are getting excessive and more unhinged. This time, it was one of his employees— 20, two kids. I’ve had the usual payment sent to the girl's family, but the man is a monster, and we’ve cleaned up after him enough. Something needs to be done.”

Grayson raised an eyebrow. “Why not just take him out, Olrun? It’s not like the world would mourn his loss. He’s caused more pain and suffering than most humans could even comprehend. The easiest solution is to kill him and make it look like he finally got his just desserts from all the aids he’s abused. Leak the files on the bastard, and make it look like one of the girls got to him. Might even take down some of his associates in the process. For once, let the humans clean their own trash.”

Olrun’s hand clenched into a fist as the thought of murdering Hanma without consequences crossed his mind. The problem was, Hanma’s connections ran deep, and killing him wouldn’t just solve the issue—it would ignite a war of it were ever discovered his men helped speed justice along. Olrun had a reputation to maintain, and reckless actions like that could cost him everything. Still, Grayson’s blunt pragmatism had a certain appeal.

“For once, I agree with you,” Olrun said, his voice low, dangerous. “But the consequences would be disastrous. We can’t afford a war with his people. We need him to know that if he continues, the clean-ups are going to cost hIm more than money.”

Grayson smirked but didn’t press the issue. Instead, his phone buzzed again, and this time he ignored it when Olrun’s gaze hardened at him.

“I need you to focus, Grayson,” Olrun snapped. “This is important. We can’t afford distractions.”

Before Grayson could retort, a sharp beep came from Olrun’s phone, followed by a flood of notifications. His eyes flicked to the screen as his heart skipped a beat.

He quickly swiped through the messages, his eyes widening as the horror of the situation unfolded in front of him.

Sacred Dawn Pack Overrun.

Hunter Attack—Allied Pack Destroyed.

Bodies Found.

Surrounding Packs Asked to Take in Survivors.

Olrun’s stomach twisted. The Sacred Dawn Pack—their neighbors and allies for years—had been overtaken by hunters. He had never seen the scale of the devastation in his life. Hundreds of lives lost, families torn apart, their packhouse reduced to rubble.

His voice was deadly calm when he spoke. “Ryker. Get on the phones. Contact the other packs. We’re taking in survivors.”

Ryker immediately jumped into action, his usual carefree nature gone, replaced by the urgency of the situation. He started dialing numbers, his hands moving quickly over the phone as he began organizing. Olrun could already tell he was taking charge, but it wasn’t enough. The blood was already spilled, and Olrun couldn’t ignore the rising tide of anger in his chest.

The image of the destruction stayed with him—the piles of bodies, the cries of the innocent—and he couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness that clawed at him.

“Get our packhouse ready,” Olrun ordered Grayson, his voice harsh and commanding. “Prepare to house as many refugees as we can. We’ll need medical supplies, security, and food. And make sure the borders are secure. Hunters could be looking to take more.”

Grayson nodded, already making his way to the door. “Got it, Olrun.”

As the door closed behind him, Olrun stood, his mind racing. The moment had come—his pack would have to rise to the occasion. The neighboring packs would see Bloody Crescent as the strongest in the region. The alpha’s strength would not only protect those in need, but it would also solidify Olrun’s position.

Yet as the minutes ticked by and Ryker continued his frantic calls, Olrun couldn’t shake the feeling of an impending storm. He didn’t know it yet, but the refugees wouldn’t be the only thing arriving at Bloody Crescent. Soon, more than just survivors would find their way to him.

He could feel it in his bones—the world was changing. And whether he was ready or not, things were about to get far more complicated. He’d been living in a carefully constructed bubble of power, but the cracks were beginning to show.

Atlas was enraged, beneath his skin. He called for blood, to make the humans pay for the destruction of so many innocent lives today. And he knew exactly which one he’d be starting with.

“Ryker,” Olrun said, his tone softer but with an edge of authority. “When you’re done with that call Kade and have him but Grayson’s plan for Hanma in action. But don’t kill him…. Take him to the dungeons. I’ll handle him personally.”

Ryker didn’t need further instructions. Olrun’s words rang true, and Ryker was a man of action. The conversation would continue, and soon, the Bloody Crescent Pack would be flooded with refugees, uncertainty, and a new set of challenges. But Olrun knew one thing for sure—he was going to be at the center of it all.

And when the dust settled, he would be stronger than ever.