Blood and Moonlight
1060 Words
The riverbank offered little solace. Cold seeped into their bones, a chilling echo of the fear that clutched their hearts. Talia’s trembling hands coaxed a weak fire from damp kindling, its flickering glow dancing with shadows of grief. The scent of blood clung to the air—sharp, metallic, and cruelly familiar.
Exhaustion clawed at their limbs, but sleep remained a luxury they couldn’t afford.
Alina curled beside her, shivering, too pale and too quiet.
They had escaped, but not far enough. The memories of their flight haunted them, each rustle of leaves or snap of a twig sending fresh waves of panic through their veins.
They were fugitives now, hunted by the very pack they had once called home.
The night was thick with tension, darkness wrapping around them like a suffocating shroud. Talia glanced at her sister, whose eyes were wide with fear, reflecting on the firelight.
Alina had always been the more delicate of the two, her spirit bright but fragile. Talia had vowed to protect her, but the weight of that promise grew heavier with each breath.
Then it came.
A low growl pierced the silence—deep, guttural, close. Not a lone wolf’s cry, but a pack.
Talia’s spine went rigid. Her hand flew to the hunting blade at her hip, the familiar weight grounding her.
Before she could move, chaos erupted from the tree line—rogue wolves, wild-eyed and filthy, descended with snarling fury. Fangs gleamed.
Claws tore into the earth. Their eyes shimmered with bloodlust, and their howls split the night.
Talia didn’t hesitate. Her training surged forward, instinct overtaking fear. She became a blur—striking, ducking, shielding her sister. Her knife found flesh with surgical precision, a silver blur under moonlight.
But the rogues were relentless.
A massive wolf slammed her to the ground. Its breath was hot and rancid against her skin as its jaws clamped down on her shoulder.
Agony seared through her, but she twisted, slashing blindly until the pressure eased.
Then she heard Alina’s scream.
Blood streaked her sister’s face. Another rogue pinned her down, teeth bared, inches from her throat.
“Alina!” Talia roared. Fury exploded inside her. She lunged, grabbing a heavy branch and driving it into the wolf’s side. It yelped, retreating just long enough for Talia to pull her sister close.
“Get up!” she gasped, dragging Alina to her feet.
They rolled down the embankment and into the frigid river, the icy water stealing Talia’s breath. But it bought them seconds—precious seconds.
Just as the wolves lunged to follow, another growl shattered the night—not rogue. Deeper. Sharper. Commanding. It rolled through the trees like thunder.
From the forest came a flash of blue-black fur, and then hell broke loose—but not for them.
A monstrous wolf hurled itself into the fray, knocking a rogue off its feet. Its growl was thunderous, its fangs a blur. More wolves followed, disciplined, silent as shadows but brutal in execution.
At the center of them is the alpha.
He didn’t wait to issue orders. He tore through two rogues with lethal grace, his power undeniable. His presence changed the tide.
The rogues faltered. They hesitated. Then they broke ranks.
Lucian’s POV
Not characteristically a man of indecision, Lucian had decided to go against his better judgment. Drawn to the battle below, Lucian chose to fight with his beta and pack.
He had watched from the ridge, gauging whether the situation warranted his interference. But the moment he saw Talia—bloodied, fierce, and still fighting to protect her sister—he did not hesitate. The fight became personal.
The rogues scattered, yelping, their formation collapsing under the force of Lucian’s arrival. His pack pressed forward, finishing the stragglers.
Within moments, silence returned—save for ragged breaths, the dying fire’s hiss, and the river crashing hard against the dark.
Lucian shifted, fur falling away to reveal a tall, muscular man, sharp-eyed and bare-chested, though a pack member quickly offered him clothing from the supply rolls they carried at their necks. He pulled on dark jeans and a black thermal shirt, his eyes never leaving Talia.
The rest of his pack followed suit.
His Beta, a large brown wolf, shifted beside him, his expression concerned and alert. He was intensely watching Alina.
Talia pulled herself from the river, teeth chattering, holding her sister close. Her knife was still in her hand, blood dripping from her arm. She turned as the two men approached. Her breath caught.
Lucian—now fully dressed—was commanding, almost unearthly in his intensity. His black hair was tousled, his jaw hard, and his eyes a piercing silver-blue that shimmered even in the dim firelight.
The surrounding energy was electric.
Casius, standing just behind him, was quieter but no less striking. His gaze softened when it landed on Alina, a flicker of awareness and protectiveness passing between them.
"My name is Alpha Lucian of the Royal Obsidian Ridge Pack," he said, voice low and calm but undeniably dominant. "This is my Beta, Casius."
Casius gave a slight nod. "Are you two alright?"
Alina peeked from behind Talia’s shoulder. "We… we are now."
Talia, still standing between them and the newcomers, narrowed her eyes. "We didn’t mean to cross into your territory. We were running."
Lucian tilted his head slightly, studying her. "You were fighting. You didn’t back down, even when it was hopeless."
"It was never hopeless," she disagreed. "Not while my sister was still breathing."
Lucian nodded, his expression unreadable—but something shifted in his demeanor. Respect, perhaps. Or interest.
"You’re just outside our borders," he said. "But you’re safe now. We need to move. The rogues may regroup."
Talia hesitated, looking down at Alina’s bruised body. "She can’t run anymore."
"You won’t have to," Lucian said. "We have transport waiting."
For the first time in days, Talia felt a flickering of relief. But it was laced with caution. Safety had a cost—and Alphas never offered help without expecting something in return.
As they followed the pack into the forest, under the pale glow of the moon, Talia knew this wasn’t the end of their journey. It was only the beginning.
And Alpha Lucian—who had descended from the trees like judgment itself—had just changed their fate.
- Writer
