Chapter Nine (Blood and Memory)
1315 Words
The sun is just beginning to rise when Luna hears the front doors of the Blood Claw Packhouse slam open.
She’s barely slept. Not after the kiss. Not after the howl. She’s been pacing her room all night, heart in chaos, lips still tingling with the memory of Zayn’s mouth on hers. The way he looked at her. The way he felt against her.
But now, something else consumes her—fear.
She throws on her cloak and bolts down the stairs. Warriors are gathered near the entrance, some injured, bloodied. Tension coils in the air like a snake ready to strike.
Then she sees him.
Zayn.
His shirt is torn, streaked with blood. A deep gash runs down the side of his abdomen, and his shoulder is bruised and swollen. But his golden eyes are still sharp, still deadly.
Luna rushes toward him. “You’re hurt—”
“I’m fine,” he growls, brushing past her.
But she doesn’t let him.
She grabs his arm. “You’re bleeding, Zayn.”
He stops.
Just for a moment.
Their eyes lock.
The warriors around them freeze, silently watching, sensing the charged tension. No one dares speak.
“I need to talk to you,” she says, her voice low but urgent. “Alone.”
Zayn hesitates. Then he nods and signals Beta Mira to handle the crowd. Luna leads him toward the private infirmary wing. It's quiet, isolated, with only the sound of dripping water from a nearby pipe.
She helps him sit on the cot, and he winces slightly.
“Take it off,” she says softly, pointing to his ruined shirt.
His eyes flick up, unreadable. “You sure?”
She rolls her eyes. “Your ego can survive one less shirt, Alpha.”
Zayn smirks despite himself, and slowly pulls the fabric over his head. Luna bites her lip.
He’s wounded—but still built like a warrior carved from stone. The bruises only make him look more dangerous, more real.
She takes a damp cloth and gently begins to clean the blood from his side. He flinches, but doesn’t stop her.
“Who were they?” she asks.
“Unknown wolves,” he says. “But they weren’t rogues. Too fast. Too coordinated.”
“Were they after you?”
Zayn looks at her.
“No,” he says. “They were calling your name.”
Luna’s hand stops moving.
“What?”
“They were howling for you,” he says, voice darkening. “Like they were trying to draw you out.”
Her stomach turns. “Then why didn’t they take me?”
“Because they’re not ready,” he replies. “They’re waiting for something.”
A chill runs down her spine.
“What could they be waiting for?” she whispers.
Zayn says nothing. But in his eyes, she sees the same fear burning in her own chest.
She pulls back, wringing the cloth in her hands.
“Zayn,” she says softly. “Do you regret kissing me?”
The question hangs in the air like smoke.
He meets her gaze. “No.”
“But?” she asks.
“But it changes everything.”
Luna swallows hard.
“I’m your Alpha,” he says. “And you… you’re not just a girl anymore. You’re something bigger. Maybe a threat. Maybe a miracle. I don’t know yet.”
“Then figure it out,” she says, standing. “Because I’m tired of feeling like I’m either a prisoner or a prophecy.”
She storms out of the room before he can stop her.
Later that night, Luna sits alone in the garden behind the packhouse. The moon is hidden behind clouds, and the silence is thick. She breathes in the scent of earth, roses, and distant pine.
She closes her eyes.
And she starts to remember.
The fire.
The screams.
A woman’s voice, calling her name—Seraphina.
She sees blood.
Wolves fighting.
A man tearing a glowing stone from an altar—his eyes gleaming with madness.
A flash of silver.
Then darkness.
She opens her eyes with a gasp.
It wasn’t a dream.
It was a memory.
Her hands shake as she rises, heading back toward the house.
But something glitters at the door to her room.
A small folded paper, pinned with a silver dagger.
Luna pulls it free, her heart pounding. She unfolds the note.
In dark ink, written in a jagged hand, are six chilling words:
“You are not safe. Leave now.”
Meanwhile, Zayn stares at the map in the war room.
Three attacks in less than two weeks. All targeting the outer edges of the territory. All within range of Luna’s movements.
“She’s the key,” Mira says beside him.
Zayn glares at her. “Watch your tone.”
“I’m just saying what others are whispering,” Mira replies calmly. “She arrived, and suddenly the enemy returns. She has a glowing mark. She can’t fully shift. Her scent changes with the moon.”
“She’s not the enemy,” Zayn says firmly.
Mira narrows her eyes. “You kissed her.”
He looks up sharply.
She smirks. “You forget who runs the patrols. They talk.”
Zayn’s jaw clenches.
“If you care about her,” Mira says, “figure out what she is. Before the others stop asking questions and start acting.”
Luna can’t sleep.
The note sits in her drawer, but the words haunt her.
She knows she can’t leave.
Not yet.
But the fear inside her grows with each passing hour. Not just for herself—but for Zayn.
The enemies want her, but they’ll hurt him to get to her.
She paces, restless.
Then there’s a knock.
She opens the door and finds Zayn standing there, silent, lips pressed in a hard line.
“I had to see you,” he says.
She steps aside, and he walks in, standing awkwardly in the middle of her room.
“You look better,” she says quietly.
“I’m not,” he replies.
Silence.
“I saw a memory,” she whispers. “It’s coming back. All of it.”
He turns to her. “What did you see?”
“A burning pack. My mother… I think it was my mother. She called me Seraphina. I saw a man steal a glowing stone. Then… nothing.”
Zayn steps closer. “The Moon Stone.”
Luna nods slowly.
“I think… I think I’m the heir.”
Zayn doesn’t look surprised. “I’ve suspected that for days.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because once the word is out,” he says, “you’ll never be safe again.”
He steps even closer. She can feel the heat coming off his body.
“You’ll be hunted. Worshipped. Used.”
“By you too?” she asks.
His eyes flash. “Never.”
Her breath catches.
“I kissed you because I wanted to,” he says. “Not because of your bloodline. Not because of your power.”
“Then why?”
He leans in.
“Because you make me feel alive.”
Their lips meet again—but this time it’s urgent. Desperate. His hands grip her waist, hers tangle in his hair. Heat explodes between them. Their bodies crash like waves in a storm, no words, just instinct.
But before it goes further—
He stops.
Breathing hard.
“We can’t,” he says, voice strained. “Not yet.”
She nods, lips swollen, eyes glazed.
But her wolf growls in frustration inside her.
Zayn steps back, chest heaving. “When the time comes… I won’t hold back.”
Then he turns and leaves.
Luna collapses onto her bed, heart pounding.
But outside her window, in the shadows…
A pair of red eyes watch her.
Waiting.
- Writer
