Moonbound Rivals

The rain in Silver Hollow never fell gently. It came down in silver sheets, driven sideways by the wind that howled through the ancient Douglas firs like a warning. Lila Voss stood at the edge of the ridge, boots sunk into the mud, silver eyes reflecting the fractured moonlight that managed to pierce the clouds. Her leather jacket clung to her like a second skin, soaked through, but she barely felt the cold. Werewolves rarely did. She lifted her face to the wind and inhaled. The scent was there—sharp, electric, wrong. Eclipse filth. “Three of them,” she murmured, voice low enough that only her second, Marcus, could hear. “Moving fast along the creek bed. They’re testing the boundary again.” Marcus shifted beside her, his massive frame tense. A scar ran from his left temple to his jaw, a souvenir from the last time the Eclipse pack had “tested” anything. “Want me to call the others?” Lila’s lips curled. “No. We handle this ourselves.” She dropped into a crouch, fingers brushing the wet earth. The wolf inside her stirred, claws pressing against the cage of her ribs. Not yet. Not unless they crossed the line. The Nightfang pack had held this territory for four generations, and she would spill blood before she let Kael Blackthorn’s mongrels take one more inch. The memory of her father’s broken body flashed behind her eyes—found torn apart on the old logging road, Eclipse scent all over him. The official story from the human sheriff was “bear attack.” Every werewolf in Silver Hollow knew better. Lila rose and began to move, silent as smoke. Marcus followed. They ghosted down the ridge, using the rain to mask their footsteps. The creek roared below, swollen with runoff. She caught the intruders’ scent again—pine, smoke, and that unmistakable Eclipse musk that made her want to bare her teeth. They crested a fallen log just in time to see them. Three males, all in human form but moving with the lethal grace of wolves. The biggest one carried a fresh deer carcass over his shoulder, blood dripping into the water. Poaching on Nightfang land. Bold. Stupid. Lila stepped into the open, rain streaming down her face. “Drop it,” she called, voice cutting through the downpour. The three froze. The biggest—Rylan, she recognized him, one of Kael’s enforcers—grinned, showing teeth a little too sharp for a human mouth. “Well, if it isn’t the Nightfang b***h herself.” He let the deer fall with a wet thud. “Didn’t think you’d come out in this weather, Voss. Figured you’d be curled up by the fire like the rest of your lapdogs.” Marcus growled low in his throat, but Lila raised a hand. She walked forward slowly, boots splashing through the shallows. Every step radiated threat. “You’re on the wrong side of the creek, Rylan. Again. Last time I warned you with words. This time I’m thinking claws.” Rylan’s companions spread out, eyes flashing amber. The air thickened with aggression, the scent of shifting wolves heavy despite the rain. Rylan laughed. “Big talk for a pack that’s bleeding members. Heard you lost two scouts near the eastern ridge last week. Shame.” Lila’s blood turned to ice, then to fire. Those scouts had been kids. Barely eighteen. Their bodies had been returned in pieces, arranged like a message. She moved before she consciously decided to. One moment she was ten feet away. The next she slammed into Rylan, driving her fist into his solar plexus with enough force to c***k ribs even on a werewolf. He staggered back, gasping. His friends lunged. Marcus crashed into one, the sound of impact like two boulders colliding. The third came at Lila with claws already lengthening. She ducked under his swing, grabbed his arm, and used his momentum to hurl him into a tree. Wood splintered. Rylan recovered and shifted fast—bones cracking, fur ripping through skin. A massive black wolf exploded from his human form, lips peeled back from fangs. Lila smiled, savage. “Good. I was hoping you’d make this fun.” She let the change take her. It was agony and ecstasy. Her body broke and rebuilt in seconds, silver-gray fur streaked with black flowing over her frame. She was smaller than Rylan but faster, meaner. They collided in a blur of teeth and claws, rolling through the creek. Ice-cold water soaked her fur as she raked her claws down his side. Blood bloomed hot against the rain. He was strong. Stronger than she remembered. But she was fueled by years of hatred. A gunshot cracked through the night. Both wolves froze mid-snarl. “Enough!” The voice rolled across the creek like thunder. Deep. Commanding. Impossible to ignore. Lila’s heart slammed against her ribs. She knew that voice. Every Nightfang wolf did. Kael Blackthorn stepped out of the treeline on the opposite bank, flanked by four more of his pack. He hadn’t shifted. He didn’t need to. Even in human form, power clung to him like a second shadow. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair plastered to his forehead by the rain. A jagged scar ran through his left eyebrow, and his eyes—storm-gray with a ring of gold—locked onto hers across the water. Lila’s wolf wanted to lunge. Wanted to tear his throat out. Wanted… something else she refused to name. She shifted back, the change rippling over her in reverse. Her clothes were torn in places but still mostly intact. She stood straight, chin high, rain mixing with the blood on her knuckles. “Blackthorn,” she spat. “Come to collect your trash?” Kael’s gaze flicked over the scene—his wolves bloodied, the deer carcass, Marcus standing over one of the downed Eclipse wolves. Something unreadable crossed his face. “Rylan. Stand down.” His voice carried alpha weight. Rylan whined but obeyed, shifting back with a groan. Kael looked at Lila again. For a long moment the only sound was the rain and the creek. The air between them felt charged, like the moment before lightning struck. She could smell him even from here—cedar, wild earth, and something darker. Something that made her pulse jump traitorously. “You crossed the boundary,” Kael said, voice low. “Again.” “Funny,” Lila shot back. “I was about to say the same thing. This side of the creek is Nightfang land. Has been for decades. Or did your daddy forget to teach you history before he died?” A muscle ticked in Kael’s jaw. The death of his father—killed in the last big pack war—still hung over both territories like a curse. “Times are changing, Voss. There are things in these woods worse than old grudges. You’ve lost people. So have we.” “Don’t,” she snarled. “Don’t you dare pretend we’re the same. Your pack murdered my father. Your scouts killed our kids. There is no ‘worse’ than you.” For the briefest second, something like regret flickered in Kael’s eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by cold alpha steel. “Take your wolves and go,” he said. “Next time you cross into our territory, I won’t be this polite.” Lila laughed, sharp and bitter. “Polite? You wouldn’t know polite if it bit you in the ass, Blackthorn.” She backed away slowly, never turning her back on him. Marcus fell in beside her. The Eclipse wolves watched them retreat, hackles raised. Just before the treeline swallowed her, Lila glanced back. Kael was still standing there, rain pouring down his face, eyes burning into hers. The look he gave her wasn’t pure hatred. It was something far more dangerous.