The Luna Curse

Chapter 3: Pack’s Wrath

The air in the gorge was thick with the plague beast’s stench, a rancid mix of blood and decay that clung to Selene Vireya’s lungs. She stumbled through the shadows, one hand pressed against her side where the creature’s claws had torn her flesh. Blood soaked her torn shirt, hot and sticky, but she gritted her teeth, forcing her legs to move. The pain was sharp, a fire l*****g her ribs, but pain she could handle. Rowan Dainvaris’s pack, charging down the ridge with murder in their eyes—that was another story.

“Thief!” a voice bellowed from above, raw with fury. “You brought that monster here, rogue!”

Selene’s lips curled into a snarl, but she didn’t look back. She’d seen the pack’s faces in the clearing—Rowan’s wolves, their amber eyes blazing, teeth bared as they fought the plague beasts. They’d lost one of their own, a young wolf with blackened fur, and now they wanted someone to blame. Her. Typical pack nonsense, she thought, ducking under a jutting rock. Screw up, point fingers, kill the rogue.

“Keep running, Selene,” she muttered, her voice rough, barely audible over her ragged breaths. “They don’t get to pin this on you.”

Her side throbbed, each step sending a jolt of agony through her. The wound wasn’t deep, but it was messy, and she didn’t have time to stop and bind it. Not with Rowan’s pack on her tail, their howls echoing closer, a chorus of rage and grief. And then there was him—Rowan, the alpha with eyes like molten gold, whose touch had sparked something in her chest she couldn’t shake. That heat, that pull, like a chain she didn’t want. Mate bond, he’d called it, his voice accusing, like she’d planned it. As if she’d ever choose to be tied to an alpha.

“Focus,” she hissed, shaking off the memory of his scent—cedar, steel, too damn close. She scrambled up the gorge’s slope, claws digging into loose gravel, her half-wolf form straining against the pain. The Ashen Wilds stretched ahead, a maze of twisted trees and hidden paths where she could lose them. She’d survived worse odds—hunters, rival packs, starvation. But that voice in her head, cold and venomous, calling her moon’s daughter… that wasn’t something she could outrun.

A snarl broke her thoughts. Two wolves burst from the shadows, their fur bristling—one gray, one russet, both massive. Rowan’s scouts. “Stop, rogue!” the gray one growled, shifting to human form, a broad man with a scarred lip. “You’re not slipping away this time.”

Selene skidded to a halt, her claws flexing. “Oh, I’m slipping, pup,” she shot back, her voice sharp despite the pain. “Unless you want to bleed for your alpha’s pride.”

The russet wolf lunged, jaws snapping. Selene dodged, her wound screaming, and slashed her claws across its flank. It yelped, stumbling, but the gray one was faster, grabbing her arm and twisting. She kicked his knee hard, and he staggered, cursing. “You’ll pay for Joren!” he spat, naming the fallen wolf.

“Not my fault your pack can’t handle a fight,” she taunted, breaking free and sprinting into the trees. Her vision blurred, the wound sapping her strength, but she pushed harder, weaving through the Wilds’ gnarled branches. The pack’s howls followed, relentless, and her heart pounded with more than just exertion. That pull in her chest flared, sharp and hot, like Rowan was close, too close.

Why him? She thought, her breath hitching. She’d spent years alone, free, answering to no one. Now this bond—this curse—was tying her to an alpha who’d probably kill her if his pack didn’t first. The thought burned, but so did the memory of his eyes, confused, almost human, when he’d felt it too.

A branch snapped behind her. She spun, claws out, expecting another scout. Instead, Rowan stood there, his silhouette stark against the moonlight, his gold eyes locked on her. “Stop running,” he said, his voice low, commanding, but laced with something softer—something that made her stomach twist.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” she snapped, backing away. Her wound throbbed, blood dripping to the ground, but she held her ground, claws raised. “Your pack wants my head. Are you gonna let them have it, alpha?”

“They think you brought the plague,” he said, stepping closer. His scent hit her again, dizzying, and that pull tightened, making her head spin. “Did you?”

She laughed, bitter and sharp. “You think I’d carry that filth? I’m a rogue, not a sorcerer.” Her eyes narrowed, catching the way his jaw tightened. “But you know something, don’t you? That thing in the gorge, the voice—‘moon’s daughter.’ What’s that about?”

His expression darkened, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he reached for her, his hand stopping short of her arm. “You’re hurt,” he said, his voice rough. “Let me—”

“Don’t,” she cut him off, stepping back. Her side burned, and her legs wobbled, but she’d rather die than let him touch her again. Not with that bond pulling, making her want things she’d sworn never to want. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” he growled, his eyes flashing. “You feel it too. This… connection. It’s not normal.”

“Normal?” she scoffed, her voice cracking. “Nothing about this is normal. Your pack’s hunting me, monsters are crawling out of the dark, and you think I care about some fairy-tale bond?” But her heart betrayed her, racing, and her skin burned where his gaze lingered.

A howl cut through the night, closer now, and the ground trembled faintly. Selene’s hackles rose, the stench of rot hitting her again—plague beasts, more than one. Rowan’s head snapped toward the sound, his claws extending. “They’re coming,” he said, his voice grim. “You can’t outrun them like that.”

“Watch me,” she shot back, but her vision swam, the wound draining her faster than she’d admit. She turned to run, but her knees buckled, and she caught herself against a tree, her breath ragged.

Rowan grabbed her arm, steadying her, and the bond flared, a white-hot spark that made her gasp. “Stay with me,” he said, his voice urgent, almost pleading. “You die out here, and I’ll never get answers.”

She yanked free, her eyes burning—not with pain, but something else. They glowed, a faint silver light that reflected in Rowan’s widened gaze. “What the hell…” he whispered, stepping back.

Selene froze, her reflection in a nearby puddle showing the same glow. Her heart stopped. What’s happening to me? Before she could speak, a snarl echoed, and a shadow moved in the trees—not a plague beast, but a lone wolf, its eyes glinting with human cunning. One of Rowan’s scouts, but his scent was wrong, tinged with that same rot.

“Rowan!” she shouted, but the wolf lunged, not at her, but at him, its jaws aiming for his throat.

Was this scout infected, or something worse? And why were Selene’s eyes glowing like the moon itself?