Dark Moon Rising

She Should Stay Second

Lucian's POV

She Should Stay Second

That vixen! Freya Astrid—Alpha Astrid! She took down the wolf who owed me more than just loyalty; he owed me a debt that ran deeper than blood. Damn it, I hate her.

Tonight is the night of the annual Bloodmoon Ball. I can't say I'm looking forward to it, though. Note the sarcasm. This year, the Shadow Claw Pack is hosting. I’ve never liked this ball, and I’ve never liked the Shadow Claws. There's just something off about them—sneaky, like rogues who’ve forgotten their place in the pack hierarchy. There's even this rumor that this pack is made up of pure-blood werewolves and rogues. I wonder which pack would allow rogues to dwell with them as equals.

For the past four moons, shipments of silver and rare herbs from my territory have gone missing—supplies I need to maintain the power balance with our rivals. You might think it was Freya. No. I know her. She doesn't play games like that. Freya's more interested in tearing down my reputation, piece by piece, claw by claw. She's the kind who'd smile while sinking her fangs into your throat. She’s a very annoying lady, trust me; she has nothing to do with that. I know her kind of games.

I suspect this ball might be nothing more than a trap, another one of her ploys to make me look weak. But even more, I dread seeing her there. Ever since we both ascended to Alpha, the tension between us has been unbearable, like two Alphas sharing a den—impossible. I don't even know what she wants from me; it's not like we’re sharing the same pack. She has her own pack to rule over, and so do I. Somehow, I think she’s just jealous of my control of power. She just wishes she could have what I have. People still see her as the strongest Alpha around, a title we both share. I know she knows that the title will only last for a while, and mine will last till eternity, so she is just fighting to get mine.

I’ve watched Freya rise from the dust after the death of her father to become the most feared Alpha in the region. To be honest, I’m impressed. She clawed her way to the top with sheer determination. Her father was killed by rivals aiming to take the pack, but she stood firm and determined. Despite being a she-wolf, she beat societal expectations to become this great. But damn it, why couldn’t she just settle for second place? The first time I heard her name was when she hijacked one of my most crucial shipments. From that moment, I couldn’t ignore her. I’ve always kept an eye on her. And now, here we are, standing side by side as equals at the top of the pack hierarchy.

I'm in my truck now, on my way to the ball, Alaric, my Beta and closest ally, beside me.

"Lucian, you good?" Alaric asks, his voice laced with concern.

Alaric has been by my side since we were pups. He’s the son of my father’s Beta, now my second-in-command. We were practically raised as brothers, though I’m two moons older. I glance at him, annoyed by his question.

"No, I’m not," I snap, my tone as sharp as a wolf’s fang.

He sighs but gets the message, staying quiet for a few moments. But, of course, Alaric can’t keep his muzzle shut for long.

"Lucian, please don’t try to rip Freya’s throat out again. It might, you know, make you look bad since it’s supposed to be a night of peace?" he says, trying to sound reasonable.

I scoff. "She looked at me. That was enough reason," I say, barely containing my anger, my teeth on edge. Really, the last time we met, that fox was just gawking at me, for reasons I do not know, and the goddess knows, it pained me a lot; I just couldn't control myself.

He rolls his eyes and turns to look out the window. We arrive at the Shadow Claw territory a few minutes later. The mansion looms ahead, its stone walls dark under the moonlight, like the den of some ancient predator. As we step out, other packs are already arriving, their Alphas and Betas milling around the entrance.

We ascend the stone steps, our pack name announced as we enter. All eyes are on us, as they should be. I scan the room, my senses heightened, searching for any sign of that annoying Freya or her packmates. But there’s nothing. Just the usual sycophants and weaklings who think a ball like this makes them equals.

Ten minutes pass, and I’ve already exchanged words with more wolves than I care to. This night is shaping up to be as tedious as ever. New faces appear, none of them worthy of my attention—until she finally arrives.

You know, all the while, it was almost as if I was looking forward to seeing her. Even though I truly wished she never showed up, I still searched around to see if she would be around.

The room falls silent as Alpha Freya Astrid is announced. I hated that she prefers to go by Alpha instead of Luna, which goes well with her gender. She strides in, her two closest warriors flanking her. They’re all dressed in black, a color that suits them—predators in the truest sense. Not going to lie, Freya is a sight to behold. That’s part of her deadly allure. She uses her beauty like a weapon, luring her prey close before going in for the kill. Confident to a fault, she masks her true nature with an air of innocence, a facade only the foolish would fall for.

She’s wearing a black gown that clings to her like a second skin, her golden hair straight and slicked back, not a strand out of place. As she descends the stairs, it’s like she’s walking on air, above us all, and she knows it.

Her eyes find mine, and she smirks. What the hell is she smirking at? I scowl, turning away before the rage boiling inside me spills over. I’ve already wasted enough time thinking about her.

Tonight’s going to be a long night, I know.