THE BADDIE LUNA

They said no wolf with sense would dare enter the Bloodwood Forest.Which is why I went. The border stones glimmered faintly under the half-moon, their runes etched with warnings older than my pack itself. Turn back. Death waits here. That was the message, carved in claw and blood centuries ago. I stepped over them anyway, the cold kiss of magic brushing against my skin like a warning I refused to heed. My boots crunched against frost-hardened soil, the air thick with a silence that didn’t belong to any living forest. No owls hooted, no crickets sang. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath. Good. Let the forest fear me. I gripped my bow tighter, inhaling the scent of my prey iron tang, sharp and wild. A stag. Not just any stag, but the kind that would feed whispers when I dragged it back across the border. The kind of kill that would spit in the face of every elder who’d told me I was weak, cursed, wrong. My wolf stirred beneath my skin, claws itching to tear, muscles coiled to shift. But I kept her down. Shifting now would draw too much noise. Tonight was about proof, not chaos. I raised the bowstring, eyes narrowing into the dark. My pulse thrummed with anticipation, with rebellion. One clean shot and I would show them all,show the entire Blackthorn Pack that the Bloodwood held no power over me. That I held power over it. The stag stepped into view, white breath steaming from its nostrils, antlers crowning its head like thorns of bone. My breath slowed. My fingers tightened. The world hushed. “Do you ever get tired of tempting death, little wolf?” The voice cut through the silence like a blade, low and steady, threaded with authority. My grip faltered. The stag bolted back into the thicket, vanishing in a blur of shadows. I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly. Of course. I didn’t need to turn around to know who stood behind me. The forest itself seemed to bow under the weight of his presence. Ronan Duskbane. Heir to the Alpha. Enforcer of every law I loved to break. Eight years older, impossibly stronger, with golden eyes that missed nothing. And the one man I swore I’d never bow to. I straightened, sliding the arrow back into my quiver before slowly pivoting to face him. He stood half in shadow, half in moonlight, tall enough to make even the cursed trees look smaller. His shoulders were broad, his posture military-straight, his arms folded across his chest like he was carved from iron. A faint scar cut across his jaw, catching the pale light. The sight of him always brought the same unwelcome reaction,an annoying spark of heat low in my belly, the kind that made me hate myself for being aware of him at all. “Death hasn’t caught me yet,” I said, keeping my voice smooth, defiant. His lips curved, though not into a smile. More like the promise of judgment. “Not for lack of trying.” I tilted my head, letting my hair slip over my shoulder. “Some of us like to live. Not just obey.” “Some of us,” he said, stepping closer, his boots silent on the frost, “like to survive.” I didn’t retreat, though every instinct told me to. Retreat meant submission, and I would never give Ronan that satisfaction. The space between us shrank, the scent of him brushing against me—cedar, steel, wolf. Too sharp. Too consuming. “You’re trespassing, Luna,” he said softly, dangerously. “You know what happens to wolves who defy the Alpha’s law.” “Maybe I don’t care,” I whispered back, my chin tilting higher. His golden eyes caught the thin light, sharp as a predator’s. “Then maybe I’ll make you care.” My wolf snarled inside me, wild and reckless. His wolf answered, pulsing in the air between us, thick with dominance. The forest seemed to tighten around us, breathless. It wasn’t just a confrontation. It was a collision. And it was only the beginning. The air between us was thick enough to choke on. Ronan’s golden gaze pinned me in place like a predator testing the limits of its prey. I hated the way my body betrayed me—heat rippling under my skin, pulse racing too fast. I told myself it was adrenaline, not him. Never him. “Step aside,” I muttered, brushing past him, deliberately letting my shoulder graze his arm. Hard muscle. Unyielding wall. The reminder only fueled my irritation. But Ronan wasn’t the type to be brushed aside. He shifted smoothly, blocking me again. His presence was a cage, and I was the wolf rattling the bars. “Do you think this is a game?” he asked. His tone was calm, but that calm carried weight. The kind of weight that cracked bones when it broke. I lifted my chin. “Everything’s a game. The difference is” I let my lips curve into the faintest smirk, “ I usually win.” His jaw tightened. For a heartbeat, I thought I saw it the faintest flicker of amusement behind his stern mask. Then it was gone, swallowed by command. “You shouldn’t be here.” “Neither should you,” I shot back. “Unless Daddy sent you to babysit me.” The word Daddy landed like an insult, sharp and deliberate. His father, Alpha Magnus, ruled with iron law, and Ronan was his heir the dutiful son, the perfect soldier. I knew my jab cut deep, even if his expression didn’t change. “Someone has to clean up your messes,” he said evenly. I smirked again, stepping sideways, but his hand shot out. Fingers wrapped around my wrist, firm, hot, impossible to shake off. The contact sent an unwanted spark shooting through me, sharp and burning, like my skin remembered something my mind refused to. “Let go,” I demanded. “You’ll only run,” he said. “Maybe I want to run.” “Maybe I want you to stop.” Our gazes locked. My wolf snarled inside, but the sound came out as a breath, a tremor I despised. His grip wasn’t cruel,it was steady, unyielding, meant to ground me. But grounding me was the last thing I wanted. So I twisted sharply, using his own momentum to slip free. The shock on his face was brief, but I caught it, and it fed me. “Catch me if you can,” I whispered, before darting into the shadows. The forest swallowed me whole, roots clawing at my boots, branches tearing at my cloak. My wolf surged beneath my skin, urging me to shift, to run on four legs instead of two. But I held back. Shifting meant noise, meant surrendering control. I wasn’t ready to give him that. Behind me, a low growl rolled through the darkness. Ronan’s wolf. The sound vibrated through the trees, primal and commanding. My heart leapt into my throat, half with fear, half with something else I refused to name. I pushed harder, faster, weaving between trees, leaping fallen logs. My breath came sharp and quick, my muscles burning, but exhilaration lit me from the inside out. This was freedom,the chase, the defiance, the way my blood sang when danger nipped at my heels. Another growl. Closer this time. Damn him. He was faster. I darted left, then right, trying to shake him. For a moment, I thought I had. The forest went quiet again, only the sound of my breathing filling the void. Then snap. A branch broke ahead of me. I froze, instincts flaring. My eyes darted left, right. Nothing. No scent, no sound. Only shadows. And then he stepped out from behind a tree. Ronan. Unshaken. Unhurried. Golden eyes glowing faintly in the dark. Like he’d been hunting me all along. “You call that running?” His voice was maddeningly calm, as though he hadn’t just stalked me through cursed woods. I glared, refusing to give him the satisfaction of my heavy breathing. “You’re slower than I expected.” “And you’re reckless,” he countered. He moved closer, each step deliberate, predatory. “Do you even know what hunts in this forest?” I smirked, though my chest still rose and fell too quickly. “Besides you?” “Things older. Things worse.” His gaze swept the trees, scanning, like he truly expected something to emerge. “This land is cursed for a reason.” I tilted my head. “Afraid, Ronan?” His gaze snapped back to mine, sharp enough to cut. He stopped just a step away, close enough that I could see the faint stubble shadowing his jaw, close enough that his scent wrapped around me like heat. “Not for me,” he said softly. “For you.” My throat tightened, though I masked it with another smirk. Always the protector, always the noble heir. But his words landed somewhere I didn’t want them to,somewhere that reminded me that beneath his control and my rebellion, something ancient hummed between us. Something dangerous. The forest groaned suddenly, like the trees themselves shifted. Both our heads turned, instincts sparking. And for the first time tonight, I wondered if Ronan was right. Maybe I wasn’t the only predator in these woods. The forest should not have moved. Yet the trees groaned again, bark splitting in long, jagged lines as if something clawed from beneath their roots. The air thickened, heavy with the copper scent of blood, though no wound had been opened yet. My wolf bristled. My instincts screamed run, but my pride rooted me in place. Ronan shifted subtly, moving half a step in front of me, a barrier of muscle and authority. I hated how natural it seemed for him to stand there, between me and danger. Like he’d been born for it. “Stay behind me,” he murmured. The command needled me. “Don’t tell me what to do.” His jaw flexed, but his eyes never left the shadows. “Luna. This isn’t about orders. It’s about survival.” Something slithered across the forest floor. A low hiss rose, vibrating through the air. I took a step forward, ignoring Ronan’s growl of protest. My hands itched, heat curling beneath my skin like sparks waiting for tinder. It was a familiar sensation,one I’d hidden for years, one that set me apart from every wolf in the Blackthorn Pack. The thing stepped into the light. It wasn’t a wolf. Not fully. Its body was twisted, hunched, fur patchy, eyes glowing red with hunger. Its claws were too long, its teeth jagged. A corrupted wolf spawn of the Bloodwood’s curse. It snapped its jaws, drool hissing where it hit the ground. Ronan’s stance shifted, predator-sharp. “Bloodspawn,” he muttered. “Damn it.” The creature lunged. Ronan was fast, his shift beginning in a flash of muscle and bone, his wolf bursting through with golden fur and massive form. He collided with the beast mid-air, the impact cracking like thunder. Claws tore, teeth snapped, snarls ripped the silence apart. But there were two snarls. Another Bloodspawn crept from the shadows, circling, hungry. My bow was already in my hand, but something inside me surged hotter, louder. Use me. The voice was not my wolf’s. It was deeper, older, coiled inside me like a second presence. I lifted my hand, arrow forgotten. Heat rippled outward, a shimmer in the cold night air. The Bloodspawn paused mid-step, its red eyes snapping to me. It let out a strangled cry, body convulsing as if invisible chains wrapped around its limbs. I blinked. The heat flared brighter, spilling from my fingertips in faint, silvery light. The creature collapsed, writhing, choking. Then stillness. Dead. My breath came harsh and ragged. My hand trembled. The light winked out.