The Last Moonshine

Episode3

The scent hit Vincent before he saw her. Sweet. Wild. Utterly impossible to ignore.

Vincent Donatello Alvarez didn't believe in coincidences. At twenty-two, he knew the world operated on patterns—predictable, deliberate, often brutal. Every action had consequence. Every choice had cost. Every mission had purpose.

His purpose: discover what the rogues were doing in Millbrook.

The town was small, insignificant—quiet streets, old houses, a diner serving coffee that tasted like regret. But rogues had been spotted here—outcast werewolves who'd broken pack law and gone feral. Dangerous. Unpredictable.

His father, Marcus Alvarez, had sent him to investigate. "Find out what they're doing. Report back. Do not engage unless necessary."

Vincent had nodded, used to following orders. Used to being the perfect son, the perfect heir, the perfect weapon.

But as he stood at the forest's edge, staring at the quiet town below, something stirred in his chest. Something he couldn't name.

Millbrook was hiding something. And Vincent would find out what.

The forest swallowed them whole. Vincent moved through the trees like smoke, silent against the damp earth. Ralph, his second, kept pace.

They'd tracked the rogues for three days—following trails, watching from shadows, trying to understand why they were in a town this insignificant.

"They're organized," Ralph whispered. "Too organized."

Vincent nodded. Rogues were usually solitary. Outcasts. But these moved like a unit—trained, disciplined, purposeful. They were hunting for something. Or someone.

The question: what? And who sent them?

Vincent's wolf stirred beneath his skin, restless and alert. Something in the air made his neck prickle. He pushed the feeling aside. No room for distraction.

Hours passed. The forest blurred into shadow and moonlight.

Then the scent hit him.

Vincent stopped mid-stride, body rigid. His wolf roared to life, howling, desperate, consumed by what he was smelling. Sweet. Wild. Like honey and rain and something else—something that made his blood heat and his heart pound.

Ralph stopped beside him. "Vincent? What is it?"

Vincent couldn't answer. His wolf drowned out everything, driving him forward with madness.

"I need to go. Follow the rogues. I'll catch up."

Ralph's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

Vincent was already moving, faster than he'd ever run. The scent was a beacon, pulling him forward.

His wolf knew what he was running toward. And his wolf was howling.

The scent led Vincent to the edge of the forest. He stopped behind a thick cluster of trees, scanning the scene—a party at a large house on the outskirts. Music pulsed. The lawn swarmed with teenagers.

But that wasn't what caught his attention.

It was her.

She was pressed against the wall, trapped by a larger figure—a boy with a smirk that made Vincent's blood boil. He could see her face clearly. Small, barely five-foot-three, with wild black curls framing her face. Her brown eyes were wide with fear.

She was terrified.

And something inside Vincent snapped.

He moved before thinking, crossing the distance in seconds. The boy didn't see him coming. One moment he loomed over her, the next he was on the ground.

"You're done here," Vincent said, voice cold.

The boy scrambled up, pale. "Who the hell are you?"

"Someone who doesn't like bullies. Walk away. Before I change my mind."

The boy stared, anger shifting to fear. Then he fled into the crowd.

Vincent turned to her. She was shaking, hands trembling. Her eyes searched his face like he was a stranger she didn't know whether to thank or run from.

"Are you okay?" His voice was softer than intended.

"I—yes. I think so."

He studied her—the curve of her jaw, the fullness of her lips, the dark halo of curls. Beautiful.

His wolf was going insane.

Vincent forced himself to look away. "Good. Take care of yourself."

He disappeared before she could respond, heart pounding, wolf howling.

He didn't know her name. But he knew one thing: he'd never forget the way she looked at him—like a mystery she wanted to solve.

Vincent found Ralph an hour later. The rogues were holed up in an abandoned cabin deep in the woods.

"Five of them," Ralph reported. "All inside."

"We take them alive. I want answers."

They moved in silence, shifting effortlessly into wolf form. The pain was familiar, grounding.

The attack was swift and brutal. Within minutes, all five rogues were pinned.

"Who sent you?" Vincent demanded, shifting back.

None answered.

"I won't ask again. Who sent you to Millbrook?"

The lead rogue laughed—guttural, defiant. "You think we're afraid of you, Alvarez? You're just a pup playing at Alpha."

Vincent's fist connected with his jaw. Bone crunched. "What are you doing here?"

The rogue grinned through blood. "Looking for the same thing you are."

"And what's that?"

"You'll figure it out soon enough."

Vincent studied him. Then nodded to Ralph. One by one, the rogues fell silent.

Vincent stood in the cabin, expression unreadable. He hadn't gotten answers. But he'd confirmed something was happening in Millbrook—something the rogues would die for. And it had something to do with the girl.

They returned to their safehouse—a small house on the outskirts. Ralph handed Vincent a folder. His new identity. A substitute teacher.

Vincent scanned the documents. "Vincent Donatello."

"Close enough to your real name," Ralph said. "Different enough to avoid connections."

Vincent nodded.

Ralph studied him. "What happened out there? You were gone over an hour."

Vincent didn't answer. He was still thinking about her—the wild curls, the impossibly brown eyes. He didn't know her name. But she was important. In danger. And he needed to protect her.

"Vincent. What happened?"

He met Ralph's eyes. "I found something."

"What?"

"I don't know yet. But I'm going to find out."

That night, Vincent couldn't sleep. He told himself it was strategic—he needed to find out why the rogues were hunting her.

But deep down, he knew the truth. Something had shifted when he'd seen her. His wolf had claimed something, wanted something with an intensity bordering on madness.

He didn't know what it meant. But he would find out.

The next morning, Vincent walked into Millbrook High School. Suit, neutral expression, folder under his arm.

Mrs. Patterson greeted him warmly. "Mr. Donatello! So glad you could join us."

She led him to the classroom. He wasn't listening. He was focused on the scent—faint, unmistakable. Sweet and wild and intoxicating. The same scent from the forest.

He followed it to the back corner. She wasn't there. But she'd been there recently.

"Mr. Donatello?" Mrs. Patterson's voice broke through. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. Just getting my bearings."

She left, and Vincent stood alone in the classroom, breathing in the scent that still clung to the air.

She was a student here. In his class. He was going to see her again.

He didn't know what that meant. But everything was about to change.

The door opened. Students filed in.

Then she walked through.

Her curls were wild, her brown eyes wide, her lips parted in surprise.

She was the girl from the party. The girl he'd saved. The girl his wolf was howling for.

She had no idea who he was. But he knew, with every fiber of his being, that she was the reason he was in Millbrook. He didn't know the rogues were hunting her. He didn't know his father had searched for her for years.

He didn't know she was the heir to a bloodline marked for destruction.

All he knew was the scent. And the scent was leading him straight to her.