CHAPTER THIRTEEN
1210 Words
13: The Moon’s Whisper
Elena woke with a gasp, her lungs burning as if she had been running for miles. Her skin was damp with sweat, her pulse hammering in her ears. It took her several moments to remember where she was—the small cabin on the edge of the pack’s territory, the furs tangled around her legs, the dying embers of the fire casting faint shadows on the walls. But something was wrong.
The dream had been so real.
She could still hear the voice echoing in her mind—a whisper carried by the wind, calling her name in a language she didn’t understand but somehow felt deep in her bones. The image of the silver wolf lingered, its glowing eyes staring straight into her soul.
She sat up abruptly, clutching the furs to her chest.
A gust of cold air blew through the room as the door slammed open.
Kieran stood in the doorway, his golden eyes wide, his breathing ragged. He looked like he had just shifted back from his wolf form, his bare chest glistening with sweat, dark strands of hair clinging to his forehead. His entire body was tense, his muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike.
"You felt it too," he said, his voice hoarse.
Elena swallowed hard. "The voice…"
"Not a voice." Kieran stepped inside, slamming the door shut behind him. "A call."
She shivered, rubbing her arms as the temperature in the room seemed to drop. "From who?"
Kieran hesitated. "Not who. What."
Something deep inside her clenched at his words. "I don’t understand."
Kieran crossed the room in two strides, dropping to his knees in front of her. His hands trembled as he grasped hers, his fingers warm despite the icy air. His eyes burned with an urgency she had never seen before.
"The Blood Moon rises in three nights," he murmured. "And Marcus isn’t waiting."
A sound outside made them both freeze.
A howl.
Long, drawn out, filled with an eerie hunger.
It wasn’t from Kieran’s pack.
"s**t," Kieran hissed. He shot to his feet, muscles tensed.
Another howl answered the first, closer this time. Then another. And another.
They were surrounded.
Elena felt her heart hammer against her ribs. The scent of iron and pine filled her nose, sharp and distinct.
"The Graves Pack," she whispered.
Kieran grabbed a dagger from his belt and shoved it into her hands. "They’ve crossed our borders."
Elena tightened her grip around the hilt. No more running. No more being afraid. If they wanted her, they would have to fight for her.
Kieran shifted before her eyes, his bones cracking and reshaping in a brutal display of power. His massive black wolf stood before her, golden eyes blazing with fury.
Then, with a low snarl, he charged into the night.
The Attack
The forest was alive with movement. Shadows darted between the trees, low growls vibrating through the air.
Elena kept her back pressed to the cabin wall, her fingers curled around the dagger. The cold steel felt reassuring, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough. Not against them.
A flash of movement—
Elena barely had time to react before a wolf lunged at her. She ducked, rolling away just as claws swiped through the space where her throat had been.
She struck out with the dagger, catching the wolf in the shoulder. It yelped and fell back, snarling.
Another came from the left.
Elena twisted, bringing up the blade, but before she could strike—
A massive silver wolf barreled into the attacker, sending them both crashing to the ground.
Lila.
She snarled, sinking her fangs into the enemy’s throat. Blood sprayed across the snow, and the wolf went limp.
"Move!" Lila snapped, shifting mid-motion. She grabbed Elena’s arm and pulled her toward the clearing where the battle raged. "We have to get to Kieran!"
The pack was fighting. Everywhere she looked, wolves clashed in brutal combat. Blood stained the ground, the metallic scent thick in the air.
But something was wrong.
Elena’s vision blurred. The whispers returned, louder this time, wrapping around her mind like chains. She staggered, gripping her head.
Lila turned to her. "Elena?"
The world tilted.
Darkness rushed in.
And then—
Pain.
Sharp claws clamped around her waist, yanking her off the ground. A muzzle pressed against her ear, breath hot and rank.
"Finally," a voice rasped.
Marcus.
Before Elena could scream, the world vanished.
The Graves Den
She woke to cold stone beneath her. Her wrists were raw, bound in iron chains. The dim torchlight flickered against the damp cavern walls, casting long, shifting shadows.
A scent filled the air—one she had come to fear.
Marcus.
She forced herself to look up.
He stood over her, his expression triumphant.
"Good morning, little moon," he murmured.
Elena yanked against the chains, but they held fast. "Where am I?"
"The Graves Den." His lips curled. "Deep beneath the mountain. Far from your precious pack."
Her stomach turned. "Why am I here?"
Marcus knelt, his fingers brushing her collarbone. "Because you are special."
She recoiled, hatred burning through her veins. "I am not yours."
He chuckled, standing. "Not yet."
A silver chalice sat on a stone altar behind him. Blood filled it, shimmering unnaturally under the torchlight.
Her blood.
Marcus traced the rim with a claw. "The Blood Moon rises soon," he said. "With your blood, my pack will be unstoppable."
Elena’s pulse pounded in her ears. "Kieran will come for me," she whispered.
Marcus smirked. "I’m counting on it."
He turned, striding toward the exit. "Rest, little moon. Your final night as human approaches."
The heavy door slammed shut behind him.
Elena exhaled shakily. She could still hear the whispers, stronger now.
But this time, she understood them.
The moon had been calling her.
And it wasn’t done yet.
The Bond’s Cry
Kieran felt it.
Not just the pain of her being taken. Not just the fury that came with it.
But something else.
Something deeper.
The bond between them pulsed, electric and alive, screaming through his veins.
His father stood before him, face grim. "She’s still alive."
Kieran clenched his fists. "Then we go now."
Lila stepped forward. "If we attack before the Blood Moon, the ritual—"
"I don’t care if the moon itself falls." His voice was pure rage. "Elena dies tonight if we don’t move."
The pack stood behind him, waiting. Ready.
Elias nodded. "Then let’s end this."
Kieran shifted, the transformation violent and raw.
Then, with a thunderous howl, he led his pack into the night.
The Hunt Begins
The Graves Den was hidden beneath the mountain, protected by magic and centuries of secrecy. But nothing would stop Kieran.
Not tonight.
The pack moved in silence, their paws barely making a sound as they approached.
Kieran could feel Elena’s presence—faint, but there. Still fighting.
A guard shifted in the shadows ahead. Before he could sound the alarm, Kieran lunged. His teeth tore into the man’s throat, cutting off the warning before it could escape.
The others followed, slipping inside the cavern like ghosts.
The scent of blood was overwhelming.
Kieran’s vision narrowed.
Elena was close.
And nothing would stop him from getting her back.
- Writer
