Perfect Luna, Double Crowned

Chapter 3 – Between Two Calls

I barely had time to wash the worst of the blood from my hands before the next howl split the night.

Not a Moonfang voice. Higher, sharper. A different pattern of pain.

Stormclaw.

My stomach flipped.

I stood outside the medic tent, fingers numb, breath fogging in the cold. Around me, Moonfang moved—warriors hauling water, pups being herded toward the inner ring of fires, elders murmuring over bowls of herbs. The camp pulsed with a single heartbeat.

Except my chest held two.

“Kaela.” Liora appeared at my elbow, dark braids swinging, eyes tired but warm. “Rowan says the worst are stable for now. You should eat something before you fall over.”

“I don’t have time,” I said.

She frowned. “You haven’t even asked for—”

Another howl cut across her words, dragging claws down my spine. Closer this time. Desperate.

“Stormclaw,” I whispered.

Liora’s expression shuttered. “Of course it is.”

I swallowed. “They’re still allies against whoever is planting those traps. And I’m—”

“A healer,” she finished. For a moment, something sharp moved in her gaze. Jealousy. Fear. Then she sighed, letting it go. “How bad?”

I closed my eyes, letting the bond unfurl properly, past the ache and fatigue.

Rylan’s presence slammed into me like a cold wave. Pain. Anger. A throb of half‑healed flesh protesting being used too soon. Around him, other threads of Stormclaw pulsed wild and scattered.

“Bad enough,” I said. “They’re too close to the human road. If I don’t go, they’ll drag injured wolves straight into headlights.”

Liora’s mouth flattened. “Caelan just got you back.”

“I’m not his possession.” The words came out sharper than I intended. I caught her flinch and forced my voice softer. “And if Stormclaw bleeds out on the road, humans will come in with guns and cameras. Then we all lose.”

She rubbed a hand over her face. “You sound like Rowan.”

“He’d be offended.”

A small, humorless smile twitched at her lips. “Probably.” She hesitated, then touched my shoulder. “Go. But if Caelan tears up the forest looking for you, I’m sending him your way and locking my tent.”

“I’ll bring you back a peace offering,” I said. “Maybe an intact patrol.”

I grabbed my pack from the tent pole, fingers automatically checking vials and bandages. The leather cord at my throat shifted as I moved; the fang thunked lightly against my collarbone, a cold little weight.

Two packs. Two kings. One i***t in the middle.

I jogged toward the edge of camp, forcing my legs into motion. Behind me, someone called my name. I pretended not to hear.

The trees swallowed Moonfang’s light in three strides. Darkness wrapped around me, familiar as old clothes. My wolf itched under my skin, wanting to run, to shed human shape and fly across the snow.

No.

Shifting would make the bonds louder. Closer. Harder to ignore.

I stuck to two legs and followed the pull instead.

Branches whipped past. The forest sounds sharpened—the scrabble of a rabbit under snow, the distant creak of ice, the faint metallic tang that made my teeth hurt.

Silver. Again.

“Of course,” I muttered. “Because one night of fun isn’t enough.”

The smell of smoke hit me next. Not campfire. Rubber. Fuel.

Headlights flickered through the trees ahead, too bright and too white for anything wolven. Voices—human, harsh and excited.

“—told you I saw something! Big as a damn horse—”

“Keep the lights on it, Bill, I ain’t—”

A wolf snarled, low and furious, cut off by a yelp.

I dropped flat, inching forward until I could see.

The asphalt ribbon of the back road cut through the forest like an ugly scar. A pickup truck sat sideways across it, doors open, engine rumbling. Two men in orange vests aimed rifles toward the ditch, where a massive gray wolf crouched low, teeth bared.

Not Rylan. Taryn. Her injured shoulder bled dark against the snow.

Behind her, half‑hidden in the brush, I caught a flash of familiar dark hair and bared teeth.

Rylan, in human form, half‑crouched, half‑braced on his healing leg. One wrong move and he’d be in full view of two jumpy humans with guns.

Perfect.

I eased sideways, using the undergrowth as cover, until I was close enough to smell cheap beer and fear sweat.

“On three we fire together,” one man hissed. “No way I’m letting some freak coyote rip my arm off.”

“That ain’t a coyote, Tom,” the other muttered. “Look at it. Damn monster.”

My heart hammered.

Monster.

I slipped a hand into my coat, fingers closing around a small glass tube. Smoke bomb. Non‑toxic, but blinding enough to send humans scrambling.

Right. One chance.

I palmed a small stone and lobbed it into the trees on the far side of the road.

It cracked against a trunk.

Both men jerked, aiming toward the sound. “What was—”

I snapped the tube against a rock and flung it under their truck. White smoke burst out, thick and choking.

They shouted, coughing, stumbling back.

“Run!” I yelled, voice low and sharp in Wolvish. “Now!”

Taryn didn’t hesitate. She surged forward, shouldering Rylan deeper into the brush, teeth snapping once at the nearest rifle as she went. Metal clanged against metal, a shot went wild into the trees.

I slid down the ditch and grabbed Rylan’s arm, hauling it over my shoulders. His weight hit me like a falling tree.

“Really?” I grunted. “You couldn’t stay on the nice, safe side of the forest for one night?”

“What fun would that be?” he rasped, leaning hard on me. Pain laced his scent, but his mouth still found a crooked smile. “You came.”

“I’m starting to regret making that a habit.”

Behind us, the humans cursed, stumbling in the smoke.

I dragged Rylan into the dark, heart pounding, two packs’ fear and fury humming like live wires under my skin.

Moonfang at my back, Stormclaw at my side, and a thin strip of human road between them.

Perfect place for someone like me to get crushed.