CHAPTER THREE-THE GAME BEGINS
994 Words
"Revenge is best served cold, but when fueled by hatred, it's forged with fierce determination."
As he stood on the mountaintop, darkness enveloped him, the air smelling of rain and blood. He had become accustomed to the dark shadows and bitter taste of the life he had been forced to lead. The moon hung low, casting a pale glow over the land—a land that had once been his home before Roland, the former Alpha of the Crescent Moon Pack, had taken everything from him.
The memories surged like a violent tide, dragging him back to a night he could never forget.
He had been just a boy then, no more than twelve, running barefoot through the trees, his heart thudding with excitement as his father had called him to the Alpha’s house. His father, Dorian, had been a trusted Beta, his mother a healer beloved by the pack. Life had been good—secure, strong. He had idolized Roland back then, seen him as a figure of greatness, of untouchable power. But heroes, he had learned, had a way of becoming monsters.
That night had changed everything.
He could still hear the screams—his mother's first, as she tried to shield him, her body crumpling before his eyes. Then his father's roar of fury and heartbreak, the sound of bones cracking as he transformed into his wolf, only to be struck down by Roland’s silver blade. The blood had soaked into the ground, turning the soil beneath his feet into a graveyard of his family’s legacy.
Roland had not hesitated, had not paused to explain. There had been no trial, no justice. The Alpha’s orders had been carried out swiftly, brutally. His family was accused of treason, of plotting against the pack, a lie Roland had used to mask his thirst for power and control. His father had been a threat, not through disloyalty, but through strength. And Roland, ever the master of manipulation, had removed that threat in one night.
His entire life had been reduced to ashes, and within that fire, he had been reborn.
Standing on the hill that overlooked Crescent Moon's territory, he could no longer see the beauty of the trees or the peaceful stillness of the night. All he saw was the place where his revenge would begin. He had been a rogue for years, cast out with nothing but his hatred to keep him alive. But that hatred had been enough.
His fists clenched at his sides, his sharp eyes scanning the borders below. The patrols moved like clockwork, loyal soldiers to the current Alpha, Alexander—the son of Roland, and a target even more satisfying than the father.
And now, he had a weapon that Roland would never have seen coming: Nyla.
The thought of her brought a slow, calculating smile to his face. She was perfect—fierce, cunning, and most importantly, she hated the Crescent Moon Pack almost as much as he did. Nyla had her own reasons for aligning with him, reasons he had never fully pried into, but he didn’t need to know every detail of her past to understand her ambition. She had a vendetta against Alexander and his pack, and that was enough for him to trust her.
His gaze darkened as he thought of how their paths had crossed. It had been years after his family’s death when he had first encountered Nyla, deep in rogue territory. She had been nothing more than a shadow at first—watching, lurking, waiting. But when she finally revealed herself, he had seen the fire in her eyes, the kind of fire that could burn entire kingdoms to the ground. They had quickly realized that their goals aligned.
He trusted her to help him destroy Crescent Moon, but there was more to their connection than just mutual hate. Nyla was special, even if she didn’t fully understand the extent of her own power. There was a darkness inside her, something ancient and untamed, and it was that force that had drawn him to her. She was not just another rogue. She was the key to his revenge.
The wind picked up, rustling the trees, and he turned his head toward the north, where the faint glow of the pack house could be seen in the distance. His eyes narrowed. Alexander, the son of the man who had taken everything from him, now stood in his way. But soon, very soon, that would change.
His mind wandered back to the first time he had seen Alexander—the boy who had grown into a man, who had taken his father’s place as Alpha. He had watched from the shadows, building power and waiting for the proper time to strike. The pack adored Alexander, just as they had once adored Roland, but he knew the truth. He knew the blood that stained their hands.
"I will take everything from you, just as your father did to me," he said quietly, his voice low and spiteful.
However, as he had learned, vengeance was not a quick process. It took patience, planning, and a desire to play the long game. And Nyla was his most valuable piece in that game. She had already started working her way into the pack, sowing discord, creating fractures in their ranks. Soon, they would be too weak to resist him.
He had seen the way Alexander looked at Nyla, the way he tried to hide his confusion, his distrust. The Alpha wasn't aware of it, but he was already ensnared in Nyla's web. She had enchanted him in the same way she had charmed others before, pulling them in with her beauty and cleverness. But this time, she wasn’t just after power. She was after revenge, just like him.
A cruel smirk formed over his lips as he envisioned Alexander realizing that the lady he thought he could control was the one who would betray him.
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