The Crimson Luna

Chapter 3 — Curiosity

Regina POV

The corridor outside the council chamber felt like a different world than the room she’d just fled.

Inside, the air had been thick with heat and dominance and the low, vibrating tension of Alphas speaking about death. Out here, everything was cooler—stone walls holding onto the chill, torchlight wavering like uncertain candleflames. The storm pressed against the estate with blunt force, wind moaning through the eaves. Every now and then thunder rolled so deeply that the floor seemed to hum beneath Regina’s boots.

She forced herself to breathe normally.

In through her nose. Out through her mouth.

Her heart refused to cooperate, still hammering like she’d sprinted for miles, and she wasn’t sure how much of it was fear from what she’d overheard and how much of it was—

Him.

Alpha Aldric Thorn.

The memory of molten-silver eyes snagged in her mind like a burr caught in wool. She could still feel the strange, fleeting warmth that had spread through her chest when their gazes met, as if something inside her had lifted its head and gone abruptly, impossibly alert.

It made no sense.

Regina had been around plenty of strong males. Betas, enforcers, even visiting Alphas—her father hosted meetings sometimes, and she’d seen the way powerful wolves carried themselves. But Aldric had felt… different. Not just dominant. Not just handsome. Something more elemental. Like the air knew he belonged in it.

She pressed her fingertips to her sternum through the fabric of her cardigan, as if she could physically calm whatever was fluttering there.

What is wrong with me?

It wasn’t a crush. She knew what crushes felt like—warm and embarrassing and easy, the kind of thing that made her giggle with her friends and roll her eyes at herself later. This was sharper. Quieter. A pull that seemed to come from under her skin.

Her father would say she was being dramatic.

Her father would also ground her until she turned thirty if he knew she’d followed him into another pack’s estate like a nosy pup.

Regina grimaced, glancing back down the corridor.

The council chamber door remained closed. She could still hear muffled voices through the oak, the occasional hard edge of anger. She pictured her father standing straight-backed, jaw set, trying to keep a crisis from becoming chaos.

Young girls drained of blood.

The words made her stomach tighten.

Her pack had lost two members in the last year to rogues near the eastern river. That had been terrible enough—violent, quick, brutal. Wolves understood that kind of death, even when it hurt. But this? This felt wrong in a way she couldn’t name. Like a violation of nature itself.

A shiver ran over her arms, raising gooseflesh.

She wrapped her arms tighter around herself and turned away from the council chamber.

She should go find the guest rooms, stay where she was supposed to be, wait until her father finished his meeting.

She took two steps.

Then stopped.

Her curiosity—her cursed, inherited curiosity—pulled her gaze down the hallway toward the grand staircase leading deeper into the estate. She’d never been inside Silver Ridge’s Alpha home before. She’d expected something rougher, more rustic. Instead it felt like history, carved into stone and timber and heavy curtains that smelled faintly of cedar.

The estate didn’t feel cold the way some old places did. It felt watched. Alive.

Regina’s wolf stirred, awake and restless beneath her ribs, as if it wanted to explore too.

Just a quick look, she told herself. Then I’ll go.

She slipped down the corridor, moving quietly the way her father had taught her—light on her feet, aware of her surroundings. The torches along the walls hissed softly, flames bending every time a draft whispered through. Shadows moved in the corners, stretching and shrinking with each flicker of light.

At the top of the staircase, she paused and looked down.

Below, the entrance hall opened wide, polished wood floors gleaming with reflections of firelight. A chandelier hung overhead, iron and glass, swaying subtly with the wind outside. Somewhere far off she heard voices—laughter, maybe, from visiting pack members being settled into rooms.

The estate felt full. Packed with predators in human skin.

Regina descended slowly, one hand trailing lightly along the carved banister. The wood was smooth, worn by generations. She imagined other wolves walking these stairs, their hands in the same place, their lives long gone but their touch somehow still here.

Halfway down, the scent hit her.

She stopped so abruptly she nearly tripped.

It wasn’t unpleasant. It was… strange. Cool and sharp, like clean stone after rain. Underneath it was something metallic—faint iron, not fresh blood, but a lingering echo of it.

Her wolf bristled.

Regina’s nostrils flared as she drew in another breath, trying to place it.

Not wolf.

Not human.

Something else.

Her pulse sped up again. She glanced around the entrance hall, suddenly aware of how alone she was. The voices from deeper in the house sounded distant, muffled by walls and heavy drapes.

Maybe it’s nothing, she told herself. Old house. Old scents.

But the metallic tang didn’t feel old.

It felt recent.

Regina swallowed, forcing herself to keep moving. Curiosity was one thing. Being stupid was another. She headed toward the sitting room off the entrance hall, thinking she’d loop around and return to the guest corridor.

The sitting room was warm and dim, lit by a smaller fireplace. Sofas sat arranged around a low table, and a decanter of amber liquor rested on a sideboard. The room smelled like smoke and leather and something faintly sweet—honeyed tea perhaps.

She took a cautious step inside.

Everything looked untouched.

No one was here.

Regina exhaled slowly, relief loosening a knot in her shoulders.

See? Nothing. You’re fine.

She turned to leave—and froze.

A figure stood in the doorway behind her.

For a split second, Regina’s mind couldn’t process what she was seeing. The man was impeccably dressed, dark hair smooth, his posture relaxed like he belonged there. His smile was beautiful.

And cold.

Rafael.

He didn’t look like a wolf. Wolves—especially dominant ones—had a certain… heat. A restless energy that bled into the air. Rafael was still. Not stiff. Just… unnervingly controlled, as if nothing in the world could surprise him.

Regina’s throat went dry. She forced herself to straighten, lifting her chin the way her father had taught her. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to wander. I was—”

“Curious.” His voice was soft, almost amused, as if he could taste her thoughts.

Regina’s skin prickled. “Yes. I’ll go back upstairs.”

Rafael stepped aside, giving her space to pass, but his gaze followed her like a hand on the back of her neck. “You’re Alpha Hale’s daughter,” he said, not a question.

Regina hesitated. “Yes.”

His eyes lingered on her hair—long waves of deep red that her mother used to call bloodfire. Regina had always hated how much attention it drew.

Rafael’s smile deepened by the faintest fraction. “It’s a rare color.”

Heat crawled up her spine, unpleasant this time. “It’s just hair.”

“Oh,” Rafael murmured. “Nothing about you is just anything.”

The words should’ve sounded like a compliment.

They didn’t.

Regina’s heart kicked hard. She stepped past him quickly, keeping her expression neutral even as her instincts screamed at her to move faster.

As she left the sitting room, she felt his gaze on her back, heavy as a cloak.

She hurried toward the stairs.

Don’t run. Don’t look scared. Don’t—

A hand caught her wrist.

Regina spun, breath hitching.

Rafael held her lightly, not hurting her, but the contact was wrong in a way she couldn’t explain. His skin was cool. Too cool. Wolves ran warm.

His smile hadn’t changed. “Be careful wandering a strange pack’s home,” he said mildly. “There are predators everywhere.”

Regina forced a shaky laugh. “I know how to take care of myself.”

“I’m sure you do.” His thumb brushed once over the inside of her wrist, right where her pulse beat frantic beneath her skin.

Regina yanked her hand back, forcing herself not to flinch. “Excuse me.”

She turned and walked away.

Only once she reached the staircase did she let herself inhale properly again.

Her wolf paced inside her, hackles raised.

Something is wrong.

Regina climbed quickly, boots whispering on the steps, her mind racing. Rafael was Aldric’s friend, right? She’d heard her father mention him with polite wariness. A… visitor. An ally of sorts.

But Regina had never met anyone who made her instincts scream so loudly while looking so calm.

She reached the top of the stairs and turned into the corridor leading toward the guest rooms, eager to get back to where other people were. The torches along the walls cast longer shadows here, and the storm outside made the windows rattle in their frames.

Her father would finish his meeting soon. She could stay near the guest suite door, pretend she’d been there the whole time.

She was nearly there when the hair on her arms lifted.

Not cold.

Not fear.

Awareness.

Someone was behind her.

Regina’s steps slowed. She listened—heart thudding, ears straining.

Soft footsteps.

Too soft.

She spun—

A cloth slammed over her mouth and nose.

A sharp, sweet scent flooded her lungs. Her body reacted before her mind could. She tried to scream but it came out as a muffled sound swallowed by fabric. She clawed at the hand over her face, panic exploding like fire in her veins.

She kicked backward, heel striking something solid—shin, maybe. The arm around her tightened, crushing her against a hard chest.

Regina’s wolf surged, snarling, trying to rise. She felt the beginning of a shift—bones aching, skin burning—

But the sweet scent sank deeper.

Her limbs grew heavy. Her vision blurred at the edges.

No—no, no, no—

She twisted, desperate, trying to catch a glimpse of her attacker. She saw only darkness and the flash of a mask, leather maybe, and eyes that reflected torchlight like an animal’s.

Her nails raked skin. Someone hissed.

The corridor tilted.

Regina fought harder, rage mixing with terror. She bit down through the cloth, tasting bitterness. The arm around her remained iron.

A voice murmured close to her ear, low and mocking.

“So pretty,” it breathed. “So perfect.”

Regina’s stomach rolled. She tried to wrench her head away, but her neck wouldn’t cooperate. Her muscles were turning to water.

She thought of her father—his steady hands, his promise that she was safe within the pack.

She thought of her mother, long gone, her voice like a memory: Trust your instincts, Regi. They’ll keep you alive.

Her instincts were screaming now, but her body was failing her.

The last thing she saw before darkness swallowed her was the corridor stretching ahead, torchlight blurring into streaks, and—far down the hall—a door easing shut with a soft click.

Then nothing.

Only the echo of her heartbeat fading into a silent void.