Broken Moon

Chapter 5 My worst fear

Altics POV

The day started out bad and then steadily got worse. I’d been up late drinking with two alphas in an ongoing border dispute. I finally managed to get them both to sign on the dotted line when one of them made an offhand comment about the others daughter and the situation escalated, so I had to use brute force to put them both back in their place. Two complaints had been filed. My father spent all of breakfast talking about how I had been sent there “to learn diplomacy” not to damage pack relations and send alphas to the emergency room.

“How are you supposed to take over as alpha of the Bonecrushers if you are unable to handle simple missions? I really think it is time you found your mate. I think that might help you with your anger management.” Finally, as a punishment, I was sent to handle a possible threat to the Strongbournes.

The Strongbournes and Bonecrushers were on opposite sides of the political map. We tended to believe in as much autonomy as possible, while they leaned more towards centralized leadership. One of the reasons we allowed ourselves to be a primary arm of the Moon Council is the high level of autonomy it allowed us.

I had just arrived at the airport in a terrible mood and with a big headache. Even while flying business class, I was stuck in a metal tube full of humans with their soaps, shampoos and, worst of all, perfumes. It had been suffocating. My father had been informed of my landing and placed the call he had been waiting to make.

“It is time,” he said omniously.

“For what?” I responded.

“You know for what. It is time to pull the band aid away and face it. We all had to and you know what happens if you don’t.”

“She’s here? No, no, it is supposed to be voluntary. I’m supposed to say when I’m ready.”

“You have one month left on the deadline. This is the time.”

He hung up. Should I just board the plane again? If I don’t face her, I’ll have one month left with my pack and then I’ll become a rouge. To be allowed to call oneself a Bonecrusher one must, before one's 23rd birthday, have faced one’s biggest fear. Though I had not wanted anyone to know what mine was, my father knew. He had been woken up many times during nights by my screams, cold sweats and outright terror. My dream was a beat by beat replay of what happened that night.

First the howling. I had rushed up and started putting on battle gear and gathering weapons. My father had rushed in, seen what I was wearing and said:

“This is not a fight you are ready for. Only people who can transform may join.”

“Dad, they need me. Can’t you hear them scream? You need every available man.”

“No, Run into the forest! Hide! Don’t utter a sound. Stay there until all the fighting is over and a Bonecrusher comes to get you.”

An alpha command. I knew my father could make them, even as our alphas beta. They were brothers after all and my father was second in line. But he had never used one on me. Today, as an adult alpha, it would not have worked. But at 11, I had enough alpha juice to really resent the command, but not enough to reject it. So into the forest I went to hide. I could hear the screams, pleading and desperation. Family members forced to see their loved ones die before their eyes. Minute after minute of wanting to help and being unable to move. I lay looking at the moon and praying for the bloodshed to stop. And then the moon started splitting in two. One moon was yellow, the other red. Both unbelievably bright. Then I started feeling like my entire body was being broken apart. Everything burned and every cell of my body was being consumed. And I could not make a sound. I could not scream in pain or to ask for help. Just lie there broken staring at the two moons. Praying for them to unite again. To this day I don’t know how long I lay there but eventually the two moons became one and suddenly I could cry. The fighting was over and my father, a Bonecrusher, was coming to get me.

I eventually found out it was an eight-year-old girl who had broken the moon. An eight-year-old girl who had paralyzed everyone on her land. An eight-year-old girl who had killed hundreds or thousands of grown werewolves (No one knew how many she killed and how many had been killed by those who were now dead). All I knew was that no matter how strong I got, how hard I trained, this girl had the capacity to render me as helpless as a harmless little bunny. And now I was once again on the same land as her. Moon, please help me survive this.