MOONLIT BOND

CHAPTER TWO: The Forest Attack

I barely sleep that night. Every time I close my eyes, I see those golden orbs burning through the dark, watching me from the tree line.

When morning comes, the world feels wrong. Too sharp. Too quiet.

The bus ride is a blur again, but this time my head is filled with one thought: what if it’s still out there?

By the time the final bell rings and I’m trudging back home, the sun is already beginning to sink low. I should walk faster, but my legs feel heavy, like they’re dragging me into something I can’t escape.

The road bends past the forest. I don’t want to look. I shouldn’t look. But my head turns anyway, like some invisible thread is pulling me.

The trees stand tall, their branches tangled together, shadows pooling thick at their roots.

That’s when I hear it again.

A rustle.

I stop. My heart thunders.

Then—snap.

A branch breaks deeper in the woods.

“Hello?” The word tumbles out before I can stop it. My voice sounds thin, foolish. The silence that follows makes my skin crawl.

I clutch my bag tighter and force myself forward. Faster.

But then it comes. A growl. Low. Hungry.

The sound freezes me mid-step.

I whip my head toward the forest, and that’s when I see it.

Not glowing eyes this time. A shape. Dark, hulking, crouched low between the trees. The air thickens, heavy with the musk of wet earth and something else—something metallic, like rust.

My chest seizes. Every instinct screams, Run.

So I do.

I bolt down the path, sneakers slapping against gravel, breath tearing from my lungs. My bag bangs against my hip, slowing me down, but I don’t dare stop.

The growl grows louder. Closer. Branches snap behind me like gunfire.

I don’t look back. I can’t.

The road blurs. My legs burn. Panic claws at my throat.

And then my foot catches on a rock.

I crash forward, pain jolting up my knee as it scrapes the ground. My bag spills open, books scattering. I scramble to grab them, but then I hear it—hot, heavy breathing just behind me.

Slowly, trembling, I turn.

The creature steps from the trees.

It’s massive. A wolf, but not like any I’ve seen in books or on TV. Its fur is matted, dark with streaks of gray. Its eyes glow an eerie red, not golden like before. Its teeth bare in a snarl, saliva dripping in long strings to the dirt.

It takes one step forward. Then another.

My mouth goes dry. I can’t scream. Can’t move.

This is it.

The wolf lunges.

I throw myself sideways, hitting the ground hard. Pain flares in my shoulder, but I barely feel it over the rush of terror. The creature’s jaws snap shut where I was standing, teeth clashing with a sound that makes my stomach twist.

I scramble backward on hands and knees, dirt and leaves clinging to my palms. My chest heaves, every breath a sharp stab.

The wolf snarls, head lowering, eyes burning into me like twin coals.

“No—no, please—” My voice cracks, useless against the thing closing in.

It circles, muscles rippling beneath its thick fur. My body presses back into a tree trunk. Trapped. No way left.

Its lips peel back farther, revealing fangs the size of knives.

Then it leaps.

The world slows. I see the wolf’s open jaws, rows of teeth dripping with spit, ready to tear into me. I throw up my arms, bracing for pain, for the end—

But it never comes.

A blur slams into the wolf mid-air. The force is so great it knocks both creatures into the dirt, a vicious snarl tearing the silence apart.

I blink, heart hammering. There’s another wolf—no, bigger, much bigger. His fur gleams silver under the moonlight, his frame towering over the rogue’s. Power radiates off him in waves that make my skin prickle.

The rogue growls and snaps, lunging for his throat. But the silver wolf is faster. Stronger. His movements are sharp, precise—commanding. He sinks his teeth into the rogue’s shoulder, shaking him like a ragdoll before throwing him across the clearing.

The ground shudders when the rogue hits a tree. Bark splinters, dust rising in the air.

The silver wolf turns, standing tall between me and the threat. His glowing golden eyes lock on the rogue, unyielding, burning with authority.

Something inside me stirs. Recognition? Safety? I can’t explain it.

The rogue snarls, crouching low again, but this time he doesn’t charge me. His gaze flickers to the silver wolf, wary. Afraid.

The two circle, the air thick with tension. Growls rumble deep in their chests, primal and furious. My whole body shakes, but I can’t look away.

Then, with terrifying speed, they clash.

Fangs tear into fur, claws rake against flesh. The sound is brutal—bone and muscle colliding, snarls and howls splitting the night. I press my hands over my ears, but it doesn’t block the violence unfolding.

The rogue bites deep into the silver wolf’s side, and I gasp. Pain flashes across the alpha’s body, but instead of faltering, he slams the rogue down, pinning him with sheer strength. His golden eyes blaze brighter, his teeth closing around the rogue’s throat.

The rogue kicks, claws, thrashes—but it’s useless.

The alpha growls, a sound so powerful it rattles in my chest. It’s not just a growl. It’s a command.

The rogue stiffens. Then, with a final whimper, it wrenches free and bolts into the trees, crashing through the undergrowth until the forest swallows it whole.

Silence falls.

I’m left gasping against the tree, my pulse thundering in my ears.

The silver wolf turns toward me.

For a terrifying heartbeat, I think he’ll attack too. My body locks in place, frozen, helpless.

But then—he lowers his head. Not in threat. In something else.

Something gentler.

His golden eyes meet mine, steady and piercing. And for the first time that night, I feel… safe.

The silver wolf doesn’t move for a long moment. His chest rises and falls, each breath deep, controlled, as if forcing the wildness inside him to calm.

I stay pressed against the tree, too afraid to breathe too loudly. Every instinct screams at me to run, but my legs won’t listen.

The wolf steps closer. Slowly. Deliberately. His golden eyes never leave mine.

I should be terrified. And I am. My heart hammers, my hands tremble, but there’s something else buried beneath the fear. A strange pull. Like gravity. Like I’m not just looking at a monster but at something I was always meant to see.

He stops just a few feet away. The moonlight pours over his silver fur, catching on his scars—faint lines across his shoulder and flank. This isn’t the first battle he’s fought. And from the way he holds himself, it won’t be the last.

Then it happens.

The wolf bows his head… and begins to change.

My breath catches. His massive frame ripples, bones shifting, snapping into new shapes. Fur sinks back into skin, claws retract into hands. The sound is horrifying—cracks and groans of a body remaking itself—but I can’t look away.

In seconds, the beast is gone.

And standing where it had been is a man.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Bare-chested, his skin gleaming with sweat under the moon. His dark hair falls in messy waves around his face, and those golden eyes—still burning, still impossible—lock onto me.

I swallow hard, the air thick in my throat.

He takes one step forward. His voice is deep, rough, threaded with something commanding.

“You shouldn’t be out here.”

I flinch, pressing back against the tree. My mind spins. Words scrape at my throat, desperate to escape. “Y-you’re… what are you?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He studies me instead, as though deciding if I’m even worth the truth. His gaze flickers to the scrape on my knee, the dirt on my arms, then back to my face.

“I won’t hurt you,” he says finally.

But the way he says it makes me wonder if he could. Easily.

I shake my head, voice cracking. “That thing—it was going to—”

“I know.” His jaw tightens. “It’s gone now.”

My body shudders. Relief floods me, chased quickly by fresh fear. I should run. I should. But something in his eyes pins me to the spot. Not like the way the bullies at school pin me down with cruelty. This is different. Heavy. Protective.

He takes another step, close enough now that I can see the faint scar along his collarbone. “You need to stay away from these woods,” he says, low and firm. “Next time, I might not get here in time.”

Next time.

The words sink into me like ice. There will be a next time.

I open my mouth to ask more—to demand answers—but a howl splits the night. Long. Haunting. Close.

The man’s head snaps toward the sound, every muscle tensing. His golden eyes flash, brighter than ever.

“We’re not safe here,” he mutters, almost to himself. Then his gaze cuts back to me. Sharp. Urgent.

“You have to trust me.”

Before I can reply, the howl echoes again—closer. And this time, there’s more than one.

My stomach twists. The rogue wasn’t alone.

The man—no, the alpha—steps between me and the trees, his body taut with power, ready for battle.

And I realize with a jolt of terror and wonder… my life will never be the same again.