Coming Back as Enemy's Luna

8. Opportunity

= Mikael =

My instincts whispered a dangerous possibility—one I didn’t dare say out loud at first. That woman… she might be a Luneborne.

The Luneborne were more myth than memory now, a bloodline believed to have been erased from the world long before I was born. They once carried a rare and terrifying gift: the power to influence Alphas when we were deep in our frenzy, especially during the full moon when reason slipped and instinct ruled. Their blood made them valuable… too valuable.

Because of that, they were hunted. Harvested. Driven to extinction.

When their pack fell, the few who survived vanished into the shadows, leaving nothing behind but stories whispered around campfires. It had been centuries since anyone had claimed to see a true Luneborne. Eventually, the world labeled them as nothing more than legend—fantasy tales told to pups.

And yet here I was, battling the thought that the unconscious woman I rescued might carry the blood of that forgotten race. If it were true… Then everything was about to change.

“Alpha.”

Rovan’s voice cut through my thoughts. “The rogue we captured still refuses to talk. He won’t name who sent them. All he keeps repeating is that he and the others were ordered to search for the dead body of a woman.”

My head snapped toward him at that.

A dead body? Of a woman?

“And why,” I growled, rising from my chair, “would that lead them here?”

Without waiting for his answer, I strode down the corridor toward the holding cells. Clearly, Rovan hadn’t extracted anything useful. I would.

“They said they were following a scent,” Rovan continued behind me, his footsteps quickening to match mine. “The trail of the corpse’s blood. It led them straight to the edges of our territory.”

Scent of blood? My brows knit together as a troubling thought surfaced. We’d traveled south from Thornelock Territory… Could those rogues be searching for her—the woman I brought back here?

My jaw tightened, teeth grinding as my hand curled into a fist. If that was their intention, then too bad for them. They’d be dead long before they ever laid a finger on her. Not that I would hand her over anyway—whoever wanted her would have to come through me first.

A few more minutes of striding through the corridor, and the heavy stench of sweat, iron, and fear grew stronger. The holding cells lay ahead, scattered like an underground maze with guards stationed at every turn. Each cell was occupied—captives shifting, groaning, or glaring through the bars.

Rovan guided me toward the last surviving rogue—the only one still breathing after the skirmish.

If it weren’t for these pests, I would’ve been standing in front of Amara by now, confirming what I already suspected… whether she truly was a Luneborne. Her identity was top priority, the kind of revelation that could change everything.

But rogues came first. Always. They were filth that multiplied faster than we could contain them—vermin gnawing at the edges of every territory.

And yet… this time, their purpose unnerved even me.

Someone had sent them to track a corpse. Or supposedly a corpse. It didn’t take much to figure out what these rogues were after. Everything about their movements, their desperation, the way they’d pushed deeper into our borders—it all pointed to one thing: they were tracking Amara.

One of the rogues lay sprawled on the cold ground, gasping as though every breath was a battle he was slowly losing. His matted fur clung to his trembling frame, and when he lifted his head just enough, a single dull eye stared back at me through the mess. His lips quivered, forming broken sounds that barely resembled words.

I crouched down to his level, meeting his hollow gaze.

“Tell me who sent you,” I demanded, letting the steel in my voice cut through the murmurs of the captive rogues behind him. Their fear pulsed through the room—low whimpers, bodies curled inward, tails tucked metaphorically tight. They knew who I was. They knew what I could do.

The injured rogue tried to speak again, breath hitching. “Wo…man. K…ill. W…an… ki…ll…” The words scraped out of him like shards of glass.

One of my warriors stepped forward. “He’s been repeating the same thing for the past hour, Alpha. Something about a ‘woman’ and ‘kill.’ It’s all we’ve been able to get from him.”

A weighted silence stretched between us.

So… they really were hunting Amara.

Remembering everything she had confessed, she had been betrayed—not just by anyone, but by a woman she once…trusted. A woman named Sera. According to Amara, Sera had orchestrated with the rogues from the shadows.

It was Sera who struck the blow that nearly killed her. Sera who twisted the truth, fed lies to the right ears, and painted Amara as the enemy until the entire Gravemire Pack turned against their own future Luna. If Amara’s words held even a fraction of truth, then this woman—this Sera—was far more dangerous than anyone realized. She had managed to deceive an entire pack, fracture their loyalty, and ally herself with rogues.

Which meant only one thing: Gravemire Pack was unraveling from the inside out.

A small grin tugged at the corner of my lips, sharp and satisfied.

Good.

Chaos within their walls meant weakness—cracks in their foundation, openings ripe for advantage. And opportunities like that didn’t come often. I had no intention of letting this one slip through my fingers.