Marked by The Moon

The Awakening

Pain pulled me back first.

A slow, searing ache hummed through every limb, not sharp, but alive—like fire under my skin. My chest rose and fell too quickly, and the cool air brushing my face carried the scent of pine, smoke... and something warm and wild.

I wasn’t outside anymore.

I blinked into a dim room with wood-paneled walls and a low-burning fireplace casting flickers of orange light across rough stone and simple furnishings. A cot cradled my aching body, and a heavy hoodie hung off my shoulders—too large, definitely not mine.

I sat up slowly. My breath caught. Every joint, every muscle, felt unfamiliar—like I’d been broken and remade overnight.

What happened?

Then the memories crashed back. The woods. The pain. The man. The wolf.

The man who—

The door creaked open.

I tensed instinctively, fingers curling into the blanket, but stopped when I saw him. Tall. Dark. Broad shoulders framed by a fitted long-sleeve shirt. His presence was quiet but commanding. His silver eyes caught the firelight like steel, unreadable.

It was him. The wolf in the woods.

“You’re awake,” he said. His voice was calm. Deep. Measured.

I didn’t respond right away. I was too busy staring. My heart pounded with confusion and something dangerously close to curiosity.

He was… striking. Too much. Like he’d been carved from something wild. The air around him felt heavier, like it obeyed him. And still, I felt that same draw from the forest—tugging at something inside me, something raw and ancient and terrifyingly hungry.

“Where am I?” I asked hoarsely. “And who… who are you?”

He tilted his head. “You don’t know?”

I hesitated. I did… and I didn’t.

I’d never met him before. But I knew him. That was the terrifying part.

“I have an idea,” I murmured. “But say it.”

He stepped a little closer, not enough to threaten, just enough for the air to shift between us.

“My name is Damon,” he said. “Alpha of the Shadowfang Pack.”

My stomach dropped.

Of course.

The whispers in Silverridge had always painted him as ruthless. Unforgiving. A wolf with no mercy. My uncle warned us about him when we were pups.

And now he stood in front of me, watching me like I was something precious—or dangerous.

“You’re real,” I breathed.

He raised a brow. “Was that in doubt?”

“I grew up hearing your name like it was a warning.”

He gave a humorless smile. “I’m used to that.”

I shifted, uncomfortable under his gaze. “Why did you bring me here?”

“You shifted,” he said simply. “You passed out. I wasn’t going to leave you bleeding in the woods.”

I stared down at my hands. “I… shifted. That’s what that was.”

“You didn’t complete it,” he said. “But it was enough.”

“Enough for what?” I whispered.

A long silence. Then:

“Do you know what you are?” he asked.

I looked up slowly. “What do you mean?”

“You weren’t supposed to shift, right?” he continued. “You were told you were wolfless. That you were weak. That’s not true.”

He took a step closer, and the space between us buzzed.

“Do you know anything about the rare wolves?” he asked. “About the bloodlines marked by the moon?”

I shook my head, throat tight. “Only that they’re myths. Stories they told pups to make them behave.”

His eyes hardened. “That’s what they wanted you to believe.”

He paused, then said softly, “The silver wolves were chosen. Destined by the moon goddess herself. They carry the old blood, passed down through generations. Some packs protect that history. Others destroy it.”

“Which are you?” I asked, heart pounding.

He didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he said, “You were never wolfless, Ayla. You were silenced.”

I swallowed hard, trembling. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“You will,” he said. “But not tonight.”

A vibration buzzed against the table near the bed. My phone.

Damon’s gaze didn’t shift. “They’ll know. Even if you don’t tell them. You’re not the same anymore.”

My chest tightened. “They wouldn’t hurt me.”

His expression flickered. “They already did.”

A silence stretched between us.

He moved toward the door. “I need to check the perimeter. Stay inside.”

“And then what?” I asked, voice quieter. “What happens now?”

He glanced back, his voice low.

“Now… we find out who you can really trust.”

That pull… it was still there. Tethering me to him.

I didn’t want to admit it—not even to myself. But the truth curled quietly in my chest, undeniable and ancient.

The door closed behind him.

I sank deeper into the oversized hoodie, heart pounding, eyes fixed on the flames dancing in the hearth. My thoughts twisted in a thousand directions—my uncle, my wolf, Damon’s silver eyes, the name I never thought would belong to me.

Then a sharp buzz broke through the silence.

I jerked toward the sound.

My phone vibrated once, then again, where it sat on the nightstand beside me—screen glowing with Megan’s name.

I stared at it.

Afraid to answer. Afraid not to.