The Alpha king’s chosen Luna

“I should have been the one who died.” Olivia’s hands trembled on Lysandra’s grave. Tears tore down her face,unstoppable. Five years since Lysandra bled out in this forest. Five years since Olivia stood there, helpless. She knelt and placed the white flower she had plucked earlier at Lysandra’s grave. The ritual would begin at sunset. The pack was already gathering in white robes, lighting candles and preparing incense. From her bedroom earlier, she had watched them move across the ceremonial ground like silent spirits. She couldn’t stand among them pretending she was healed. So she slipped out before anyone could notice. She had to return before someone else noticed she was not in the palace. The palace had begun to feel like a cage these days. Too many watchful eyes. Grief had changed the pack, but it had changed her more. Olivia turned to leave. Suddenly, she felt something shift behind her, slow and breathing. “Who is there?” She asked, steadying her voice. “Come out,” She demanded. A large growl answered. Fear gripped her. A wolf stepped from between the trees, large and dark fur. Rogues. Another appeared behind her, then one to her left, one to her right. Slowly they circled around her. “Are you aware this is trespassing?” Olivia said, trying to sound firm. One of them shifted partially, rising halfway into human form. “We know,” he replied. “Then leave,” Olivia’s voice cracked. “We are not here to harm you. He smiled.” “Then why are you here?” His eyes sharpened. Before Olivia could move, he lunged at her. Pain tore across her arm as his claws sliced through her skin, and blood ran through her wrist. The rogue paused, watching her, like she was an experiment, which terrified her more than the blood running down her arm. “I thought her powers would awaken on her sister’s fifth anniversary.” “It hasn’t awakened yet,” another muttered. Olivia’s stomach dropped. Awakened? The sacred wolf stepped towards her again. And then a roar split through the forest. It was Roman, the Alpha king. The ground shook beneath them. Another wolf burst into the clearing beside him, it was Derek, the king’s right hand man. Chaos exploded in the clearing. Roman moved like pure wrath, driving them with brutal precision. But the rogues didn’t fight back. They retreated. As if they had already seen what they needed to see. His eyes found Olivia instantly. “Are you hurt?” “It’s nothing,” she insisted, even as a shot pulse shot through her arm He held her wrist gently. His jaw tightened at the blood he saw. “They touched you?” “I’m fine.” He didn’t look convinced. Without asking her, he lifted her into his arms. “I can walk,” she protested weakly. “I know,” he said firmly. But he didn’t put her down. He carried her from the forest and set her in front of him on the horse. His arms stayed firm around his waist as they rode back. The pack had already gathered when they arrived. Murmurs spread as Roman carried her past the doctor’s quarters. Some faces held concern,others held suspicion. “Dress the wound,” he said to the palace doctor. He stepped back only after the doctor assured him it wasn’t a deep wound. Then he turned to Derek. “Double the guards at Olivia’s chambers, and always ensure she leaves the territory with proper security.” “I will do that, Your majesty,” Derek said, bowing his head but something in his eyes was different. Moments later, the ritual for Lysandra’s fifth anniversary began. The full moon rose above them. One by one pack members stepped forward, offering white petals into the ceremonial flame. Men and women wept openly, mourning their late Luna. When the priestess mentioned Olivia’s name, a hush fell. Her chest tightened. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. She stepped forward, offering her petals, and entering the inner ring to perform the spirit calling rite. Immediately, the air shifted, colder and heavier. Her heartbeat quickened. She took the incense bowl from the priestess. The closer she moved towards the altar, the stronger something stirred beneath her skin. It was warm, relentless and unfamiliar. When she reached the altar, the warmth turned into fire. The incense bowl from her hand slipped from her fingers and shattered against the stones. Pain shot through her veins. Her vision blurred. The ground trembled. Gasps erupted around her. Above them the moon darkened. Then slowly it turned red. The blood moon. “What is happening?” Someone whispered. “She is awakening,” another voice said. “Awakening?” the word echoed in Olivia’s mind. Her bandaged arm began to glow beneath the cloth. Wind spiraled around her. “Guards, hold her!” One of the council leaders, who is also a spy in their territory, shouted. “No one touches her!” Roman’s voice thundered across the grounds. It was commanding and unquestionable. Power surged through her again, stronger and bigger. Like something ancient had been asleep inside her for years, and it had finally opened its eyes The air felt changed, as if the sky itself had been waiting. The wind bent toward her instead of away. “The prophecy,” the priestess breathed. “What prophecy?” Olivia opened her mouth to speak, but a scream tore out instead, not of pain, but of something raw and unstoppable. Every candle went out and darkness swallowed the ceremonial ground. For a second there was nothing. No sound, no breath, no earth beneath her feet. When Olivia opened her eyes, the altar was gone and the pack was gone. She was no longer where she had been, she was somewhere else. A presence lingered nearby. “Who is there?” She called, her voice breaking. A figure stepped forward with a predator’s grace, it was Roman. “How did I get here?” Olivia asked. His lips parted, but no words came, only a low, resonant growl that sent chills down her spine. Her hands shook. Something inside her was alive now, hungry and awake. “Olivia,” Roman’s voice echoed around her. “Do you know what you have become?”