Four
1231 Words
The dungeon beneath the Crystal Moon packhouse was cold, damp, and silent—except for the ragged breathing of the captured Dreadfang wolf.
He was chained to the far wall, his arms stretched above his head, the silver shackles biting into his wrists. Even in his weakened state, his eyes gleamed with defiance. His dark hair hung in front of his face, matted with blood and sweat. The scent of burnt flesh still lingered in the air from when they’d tried to weaken him with wolfsbane-laced restraints.
Beta Marcus stood just outside the cell, arms crossed. He’d been quiet for the last few minutes, watching the prisoner like a hawk.
“Let’s go again,” he said finally.
Gamma Quinn stepped forward, voice low and commanding. “Why were you trespassing in our territory?”
The Dreadfang wolf smirked. “Nice welcome party. You kiss your mate with that attitude?”
Quinn’s eyes narrowed. With a signal from Marcus, the guards flanked the prisoner. One struck him across the face—enough to rattle teeth but not enough to knock him out.
“Answer the damn question,” Marcus growled.
The prisoner spit out blood. “We were just… sightseeing.”
Another blow. Harder this time.
“Cut the games,” Quinn barked. “Three of you crossed our border. Two are dead. You’re the last one breathing. Talk—before we make you wish you joined your buddies.”
The prisoner laughed, low and raspy. “You think I care about pain? You think your threats scare me?” He leaned forward as far as the chains would allow. “You’re all so clueless. Playing guard dogs around a toy you don’t even understand.”
The room fell still.
Marcus stepped closer. “The Moonstone.”
A flicker of satisfaction crossed the Dreadfang’s face.
“So that’s what this is about,” Quinn said. “You were trying to get close to it.”
The prisoner didn’t deny it. “You can’t protect it forever.”
“Who sent you?” Marcus demanded.
“No one,” he said, too quickly.
Quinn’s hand twitched. “You’re lying.”
“I said no one. We act on our own,” the prisoner said, but even he didn’t sound convinced.
“You expect us to believe that?” Marcus scoffed. “You’re from Dreadfang. That much is clear. But we both know they wouldn’t send scouts unless someone higher up ordered it. Who sent you? What do they want?”
The prisoner leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes.
“I already told you,” he muttered. “You don’t understand what you’re guarding.”
Then he opened his eyes, locking them on Marcus with eerie calm.
“There’s a girl,” he said.
The words hit the room like a thunderclap.
Marcus straightened. “What girl?”
The prisoner’s grin widened. “The one who can touch the Moonstone.”
A silence fell over the chamber.
Marcus and Quinn exchanged a look.
“You’re bluffing,” Quinn said slowly. “That’s a myth. No one can touch the Moonstone.”
“No one… except her.”
“And who is she?” Marcus asked, his voice deadly calm.
The prisoner leaned forward again, his chains creaking. “I’ve said enough.”
Quinn’s voice sharpened. “Tell us her name.”
“I don’t have it,” the prisoner admitted. “But someone does. And they’ll find her. Before you do.”
Marcus stepped forward, fire in his eyes. “You think we’ll let that happen?”
The prisoner gave a soft chuckle. “You won’t have a choice.”
“Who sent you?” Marcus pressed again. “Which pack? If it wasn’t Dreadfang, then who?”
But the prisoner just smiled. A smug, dangerous smile.
Then, without warning, he bit down hard.
There was a sickening crack as his tongue snapped between his teeth.
Blood gushed from his mouth.
“No!” Quinn lunged for him, but it was too late.
The Dreadfang wolf slumped forward in his chains, dead.
The last trace of his smirk still clinging to his bloody lips.
⸻
An Hour Later – War Room, Crystal Moon Packhouse
Alpha Jake stood at the head of the long table, his expression grave. Around him sat his most trusted wolves—Beta Marcus, Gamma Quinn, Delta Erin, and a few other high-ranking enforcers.
“He said someone can touch the Moonstone,” Alpha Jake said quietly. “A girl.”
“And then he killed himself before saying more,” Marcus added. “That’s not random. That’s loyalty. Or fear.”
Alpha Jake rubbed his jaw. “They’ve known for centuries no one can touch the Moonstone. Anyone who tries is burned alive—or worse. So how do they suddenly know about the girl?”
“It’s not a rumor,” said Erin, her voice tense. “It’s prophecy. My grandmother told stories about a female omega born once every ten thousand years. Chosen by the Moon Goddess. She’s the only one who can wield the Moonstone’s power.”
Alpha Jake’s eyes narrowed. “But legends also say that if she’s found by the wrong pack… she can be forced to use her power against us.”
“Wrong,” Quinn said. “She can’t be forced. That’s part of the curse. No one can control her.”
“But if she chooses to use it willingly…” Erin trailed off, eyes wide.
“She could wipe out an army on her own,” Marcus finished.
Alpha Jake nodded grimly. “A goddess in a girl’s body.”
“And we’ve had no sign?” Quinn asked. “No visions, no changes in the stone?”
Alpha Jake looked down at the glowing rune-map embedded in the war table. “The replica pulses more often now. As if the real Moonstone is awakening. But no direct sign.”
Marcus leaned forward. “There’s something else you should know. The Dreadfang wolf said ‘you don’t understand what you’re guarding.’ That stuck with me. Maybe the girl isn’t coming. Maybe she’s already here.”
Everyone stilled.
“What are you saying?” Erin asked slowly.
Alpha Jake’s voice dropped low. “The legends say the omega child is always born where the Moonstone lies. Always. No exceptions.”
Quinn’s eyes widened. “You think she’s already in the Crystal Moon Pack?”
Jake didn’t answer.
He didn’t have to.
⸻
Far across the packhouse, in the quiet of her room, Abigail sat on her bed, staring at her hands again.
They were still. Normal. No silver glow this time.
But her chest still hummed with quiet energy. Like a firefly trapped in a jar.
“Iris?” she whispered in her mind.
“I’m here.”
“Do you think something’s wrong with me?”
Her wolf was quiet for a long time. Then softly: “I don’t know what’s happening, Abigail. But whatever it is… it’s bigger than both of us.”
Abigail hugged her pillow to her chest, trying to calm her heartbeat.
She didn’t know about the meeting in the war room.
She didn’t know her name had been spoken—just not yet out loud.
But deep inside her… something ancient stirred.
And it wasn’t going to stay hidden for long.
- Writer
