Dark Moon Rising

The Howl of Destiny

Freya's POV

The Howl of Destiny

Seraphina and I lingered on the moonlit balcony, the night air crisp against our skin, when Fenrir approached, his breath visible in the cold. "Alpha Freya, there's a howl on the wind for you," he said, using the old term for a call within the pack.

"Hello?" I answered, my voice carrying the calm confidence of an Alpha.

"Greetings, little sis! How are you? It’s been too long since we’ve crossed paths, hasn’t it?" My older brother, Thorne, said, his voice warm and familiar.

A smile curled on my lips. Hearing from him always brought a sense of peace, like the steady rhythm of a heartbeat. "I’m good. How about you? How’s the pack holding up?"

My brother and I share a bond as strong as blood, though our duties keep us apart more often than not. You might wonder why he isn’t the Alpha of our pack. The truth is, Thorne chose to step back when our father offered him the freedom to lead his own life. He still supports the pack, overseeing our business in distant territories and ensuring our strength in those regions. He has a mate, Isolde, a gentle soul from the Southern Packs, and they have a daughter, Lyra, who’s the light of our lives.

"Yeah, everyone’s howling along just fine. What are you up to? I hear the beat of drums in the background. Wait, isn’t it the Bloodmoon Ball?" he asked, the realization dawning in his voice.

"Right on target," I replied, the hint of a laugh escaping as I popped the ‘p’. "I should probably end the call, though. Duty calls. But I’ll get back to you soon."

"Oh, yeah, of course. It was great hearing your voice, though. Enjoy the night. Far vel! Ek els-ka thik."

"Far vel, Ek els-ka thik." {bye, I love you}. I ended the call, the warmth of his words lingering as I leaned against the balcony rail once more, letting my eyes drift over the sprawling city below.

Greenland is a wild territory, beautiful yet constantly bustling, like a forest alive with unseen dangers. I often come here for pack business—it’s a prime meeting ground for allies and trading. But tonight, the city seemed to pulse with an energy that set my senses on edge. I decided to stay outside a little longer, soaking in the calm before returning to the chaotic ball inside.

Minutes passed, or maybe it was longer. Time felt fluid out here, as though the city itself breathed in sync with me. Suddenly, a low, annoyed growl sounded from behind. I turned, already knowing who it was—the one and only Lucian Draven, the Alpha who always managed to get under my skin.

I rolled my eyes and turned back to the view. "Why so moody, big bad wolf?" I asked, sarcasm dripping from my words.

He was always pissed off, as if carrying the weight of the entire pack on his broad shoulders. But then again, that's Lucian—sharp as a fang and twice as deadly.

"Shut it," he snapped, moving to lean against the railing, leaving a calculated space between us. His presence was like a storm on the horizon, impossible to ignore.

Looking at him, he seemed quite rude at the moment, almost more rude than his usual self. "No need to get so feisty now," I huffed, crossing my arms, but his glare made it clear he wasn’t in the mood for banter. After a while, he turned his gaze back to the city, the tension between us growing thick, almost suffocating.

The urge to claw at that tension, to make him break, gnawed at me. Why don’t I just leave? Stupid, stupid me. But before he could respond to my earlier jab, the night was shattered by the crack of roaring wolves, followed by terrified howls.

Our eyes met, both of us instantly on high alert. We turned our gazes to the ballroom, where chaos had erupted. Through the open doors, we caught a glimpse of a woman running, her desperate flight ending in a sickening fall; she had been clawed beyond recognition, blood gushing from her throat, her body crumpling lifelessly to the floor.

"That poor thing," I whispered, the weight of the night crashing down like a predator in the hunt.

Instinctively, I Shifted into my wolf form, baring my teeth and exposing my claws, the silver edges of my claws gleaming under the moonlight, while Lucian shifted into his battle wolf, his claws elongating and eyes turning a fierce gold. We bolted back into the heart of the packhouse, where chaos reigned. Wolves, both in human and wolf form, lay lifeless on the floor, their bodies scattered like fallen leaves, while more of our kin were being torn apart by intruders—rogues masked in shadow.

I frowned as I scanned the rogues, something about them tugging at the edge of my memory. Why do they seem familiar?

My thoughts were cut short when a rogue lunged at me, knocking me to the ground with a snarl. I groaned but quickly reacted, plunging my fangs deep into his neck, severing the lifeblood of his kind. Pushing his heavy body off, I rose swiftly.

A loud snarl drew my attention to the right, where a massive rogue stood, his eyes wild with fury. He raised his hand, which morphed into a wolf's claw, and slashed at me. I dodged just in time, but he was fast—suddenly, he was upon me, towering over me like an ancient tree.

Damn, he’s tall.

He swung at me with brutal force, but I was quicker, slicing him across the stomach with my claws. The cut wasn’t deep enough to bring him down, though, and with a growl, he lifted his claws to finish me. I struck at his arm, causing him to quickly transform back into his human form. He pulled out a weapon—a handgun, the coward’s choice. He discharged the gun quickly enough, the bullet grazing my thigh.