BOUND TO HIS MOON

CHAPTER ONE

Serene shook rain from her dark hair as she stepped into the warm apartment on a quiet street in Vienna’s Innere Stadt. The comforting scent of fresh apple strudel and spiced tea filled the air. Outside, the illuminated spires of Stephansdom pierced the October dusk, while trams rattled along the wet cobblestones below.

“I’m home,” she called, kicking off her heels. Her fitted black blouse still felt slightly damp against her skin.

Marta appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. At seventy-two, her grandmother carried herself with quiet strength, silver hair pinned neatly. But tonight, her smile looked strained.

“You’re later than usual, Liebling.”

Serene sighed. “Mrs. Albrecht kept talking.” She hesitated, then pulled out her phone. “Grandma… I got another call today. Same unknown number.”

Marta’s fingers tightened on the towel. “What did he say?”

“Not much. Just that he knows who I really am. And six days from now, everything will change.” Serene rubbed her arms, trying to shake off the unease. “It’s starting to scare me.”

Before Marta could reply, Serene’s phone buzzed again. Unknown number. Against her better judgment, she answered.

The voice on the other end was calm, almost gentle — but it sent ice down her spine.

“Serene,” the man whispered. “You were humming your mother’s lullaby again this morning. The one she sang to you the night before she died. Such a pretty voice… for someone who has no idea what’s coming.”

The line went dead.

Serene lowered the phone, her hand trembling. “He knew… he knew about the lullaby. No one knows that except me and you.”

Marta turned away too quickly. “It’s probably just someone playing cruel games.”

But Serene couldn’t forget the way her grandmother’s shoulders had stiffened. Later that evening, while Marta thought she was alone, Serene glimpsed her standing by the fireplace in the living room, slowly feeding old letters and faded photographs into the flames. The firelight carved harsh shadows across her face, revealing deep lines of long-held fear.

That single image lingered in Serene’s mind.

After dinner, Serene made up her mind. She was done waiting for answers.

“Grandma,” she said firmly, setting her cup down. “In six days I will turn twenty-one. If something is happening — about Mom, about these calls — I need to know. I’m not a little girl anymore. Tell me the truth.”

Marta looked at her for a long moment, pain and conflict clear in her eyes. “Serene… your mother made dangerous choices to protect you. She—”

The front door exploded inward with a deafening crack.

Three men stormed into the apartment, rain dripping from their dark coats. The leader’s cold eyes locked straight onto Serene.

“Don’t harm her,” he ordered. “The master wants her delivered alive.”

Marta moved like lightning.

She snatched the heavy iron poker from the hearth and spun with shocking speed, cracking it across the first man’s wrist. Bone snapped. She fought with terrifying precision — elbow strikes, brutal kicks — dropping the second intruder before he could reach her granddaughter.

“Run, Serene!” she shouted, voice fierce and desperate. “Don’t look back!”

Serene hesitated for a heartbeat, stunned by the raw power her gentle grandmother possessed. Then a rough hand grabbed her arm. She yanked free and bolted through the back door, racing down the narrow stairs and into the rain-soaked alley behind their building.

Her thin nightdress was instantly drenched. Bare feet slapped against cold cobblestones as angry shouts echoed behind her. They were coming.

Serene ran harder than she ever had, heart pounding, that strange restless heat burning brighter under her skin.

Her normal life in Vienna had just shattered.