By Blood and Moon

I had died eight times. I should have been a cat, not a wolf. Maybe then I would have learned faster. Because every single time, it had been by his hand. Alpha Kael Redwynd of the Crimson Feral Pack. The Demon of the West. The moment always began the same way. The death sentence always started the same way: his gleaming red sword pressed to my throat, slick with blood, his cold crystal-blue eyes pinning me where I knelt. The final strike always followed. Steel slicing through flesh. Blood spilling down my chest as I drew my last breath. One would think that after eight lifetimes, I could stop it. That I could change the ending. The truth was far crueler. I never remembered in time. The memories came only in fragments. Small changes. Vague flashes. A sense of déjà vu that meant nothing until it was too late. By the time my life began playing out exactly the same way, the realization slammed into me all at once. Now. With Kael’s blade at my throat, my stupid, wasted life flashed before my eyes—and I remembered, far too late, that I had done this before. My chest heaved. My hand clamped over the wound in my stomach, trying uselessly to hold in what was already spilling out. Around me, the battlefield lay silent except for the groans of the dying. My men. My people. Dead and dying all around me. I was the last. Kael towered over me, tall and merciless, his armor slick with blood that wasn’t his. There wasn’t a scratch on him. His chiseled face was blank, emotionless as always, those cold blue eyes slicing into me without a hint of pity. He looked at me the way one puts down a broken horse. The cold-blooded monster of the West. "Aww," someone jeered behind him, a faceless nobody who had watched me die countless times. "Look at her. Still clinging to hope. Poor thing doesn't know when to let go." Another soldier laughed, his voice sharp with contempt. "The mighty Luna Queen leading her people into a pointless war while her precious mate sits in his castle, drinking and f*****g her sister. How dumb is she?" Someone else chimed in, his tone thick with lewd suggestion. "Do we even need to kill her? She's a beauty. We could take her back. Pass her around. The great Luna of Moonstone Pack on her knees, servicing our needs." Nasty, disgusting words spilled freely. My fist trembled against the dirt, nails digging into my palm and my wounded stomach. My throat was dry, breaths ragged—but I stayed silent. Any other time I had died, I spat curses. I defended my honor. I reminded them who I was. I am a Luna. A Warrior Queen blessed by the Moon Goddess herself. Wolves did not speak to a Luna this way. But every single time I rose to defend myself, Kael cut me down for it. And Goddess, I was so tired. Tired of dying. Tired of fighting. Tired of risking everything I was—or could be—for a cause that always ended here. So I let them speak. I let them drag my name through their filthy mouths. I let their words paint degrading images I refused to meet with my eyes. I didn’t lift my gaze. I didn’t waste what little strength I had left. My silence enraged one of them. Boots crunched through blood-soaked ground as he stormed closer. “Who the f**k are you to ignore me, you w***e-spawn?” He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. Pain tore from my scalp and a gasp escaped me—but still, I didn’t look up. His fist rose. Before it could fall, Kael turned his head and fixed his gaze on the man. That was all it took. The soldier froze. His hand dropped. He released my hair as if burned, and I crumpled back to the ground with a broken hiss. Kael hadn’t spoken. He never needed to. I lifted my gaze just enough to look at him, then lowered it again. My voice scraped out, rough and barely audible. “Kill me.” Silence fell. They stared. “Did she just…” one muttered. “Ask us to kill her?” Another scoffed, uneasy. “She was fighting like a demon moments ago. Why would the proud Luna beg for death?” Kael’s sword tilted my chin upward, the edge nicking my skin further. His head tilted slightly, curiosity glinting in his icy stare. “You wish for death, Luna Queen?” His voice was calm, almost mocking. “Why?” I didn’t answer. My eyes stayed fixed on the blood pooling at my knees. “Why,” he pressed, “Luna Queen of the Moonstone Pack? Luna Warrior who fights like the demons of human hells.” Why? Because I remembered. Because every lifetime ended the same way. Every desperate stand led me here, to this moment, to my own death. I just wanted the Moon Goddess to take me and keep me this time. Eight lives were enough. I swallowed. My cracked lips trembled. I knew my eyes held my death, but the truth slipped out anyway. “Because I’m tired of fighting,” I whispered. “You’re going to end it no matter what I do. So just be quick.” That icy gaze burned into me, but I didn’t look up. If I did, he would see the pain. The tears threatening. I would despise myself for being so weak. The blade pressed harder. The tip broke skin. Warm blood slid down my neck. My pulse thundered. I was terrified. I didn’t want to die again. But what choice did I have? Be passed around and die… or die by Alpha Kael’s crimson blade. I closed my eyes. Please, Goddess. Please let it be quick this time. The weight of the sword shifted. I braced for the cut—but instead, the blade moved away. I opened my eyes. I froze. The sword hovered before me, then lowered. Around me, the battlefield was silent. Even Kael’s soldiers looked confused—some beginning to smirk as understanding crept in. Slowly, I lifted my gaze. Kael stood there, blade resting at his side, his face as cold and unreadable as ever. “W-what are you…?” My voice shook. “You want to die?” he said. “Just like that?” His lips curled—not into a smile, but something close. “That is rather amusing. The look in your eyes… you’re terrified of death, yet you beg for it.” He studied me like a puzzle. “I’ve never seen anyone like you before.” I swallowed. “Very well,” Kael said at last. “I’ll give you a chance to live. If you survive today, you keep your life.” My heart stuttered violently in my chest. “Alexander.” “Yes, Alpha,” replied a striking blond man—his beta. “Hand me my bow.” The weapon was placed in Kael’s hands. He strung an arrow and leveled it at me. “I’ll give you two minutes to run,” he said. “Then my men and I will fire. If you escape, we won’t hunt you down.” His gaze locked onto mine. “But if you don’t…” The soldiers laughed. Their eyes gleamed with anticipation. To them, I was no longer a Luna. I was prey. My chest tightened. Every instinct screamed at me to stay down. To let it end before they could turn this into a game. But this had never happened before. Not once, in eight lives, had he spared me. Something cracked open inside me—sudden and violent, like ice breaking under pressure. My wolf surged, not with strength but with raw, animal panic. Live. LIVE. Heat flooded my limbs. My fingers dug into the dirt, nails scraping stone. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought they'd shatter. The exhaustion, the despair—it was still there, crushing me—but underneath it, something feral clawed its way to the surface. I gasped, and the sound was ragged, desperate. My body moved before my mind could catch up. Muscles screaming. Blood roaring in my ears. "If I were you," Kael said softly, "I'd be running." I didn't think. I didn't choose. I exploded forward. My legs burned. My vision blurred. But I ran. Behind me, his voice counted down. When the first arrows whistled through the air, I didn’t stop. One tore through the skin of my arm. Another pierced my shoulder. Pain seared through every inch of me—but I ran. I ran because for the first time in all my lives, I had a chance. I staggered forward, legs barely obeying, lungs burning, vision blurring—but I didn’t stop. I did it. I escaped death. Bleeding. Broken. Hanging by a thread. If I could reach help, I could live. I could heal. Astrea could heal. The thought brought a faint, disbelieving smile to my lips.