Fleeing Moon

Lena

Lena stood motionless in the center of the training room, the sound of Marcus’s footsteps fading down the corridor, the heavy wooden door of the training hall slowly closing behind him.

Her chest fell and rose as the adrenaline that had rushed through her veins for just a few seconds was slowly fading.

He had just left, but his image lingered in her mind.

He was a commanding figure whose very presence demanded attention. Towering over her at more than six feet, his stature alone had raw power.

Broad shoulders and a chiseled frame bore testament to countless hours of rigorous training. His dark brown eyes and deep brown hair looked flawless under the dim light.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" her wolf purred.

“Yes, I did Nyx,” Lena answered her wolf softly. Smiling at the excitement she felt through her wolf.

Marcus's touch made her feel a fire inside of her that she had never experienced before.

There was something exhilarating about the way he fought; she could feel his every move before he made it. She felt connected to him in a strange way.

"And the man," her wolf continued, a hint of mischief in her tone, "there’s a fire in him, a strength that draws you in. You felt it, didn’t you? The way he moved, the confidence in his stance. It makes your blood sing. OUR blood sings."

Lena pushed her wolf back, with a smile tugging at her lips.

“Not now Nyx.”

Lena adjusted the tight-fitting sleeves of her black shirt, ensuring they were snug around her forearms. Her top clung to her chest and back, offering the perfect balance between flexibility and protection. She pulled her long black hair back into a tight ponytail, securing it with a simple band.

She moved to the side of the training hall, her breath steady, her heart had slightly returned to normal, she watched the other warriors sparring in the center of the room.

The scent of sweat and the faint hint of oil from the training weapons hung in the air, a familiar reminder of the countless hours spent honing their skills.

Dante moved closer, his presence a solid anchor beside her. He stood tall and imposing, like a soldier ready for battle, his gaze fixed on the sparring matches unfolding before them.

“Don’t get distracted,” he said, his voice stern yet laced with an undercurrent of concern.

Lena turned her head slightly and stared at him, a smile tugging at her lips as his familiar words washed over her, bringing with them a wave of memories.

They were moments shared in the early days of her training, when her focus wavered and anxiety threatened to overwhelm her. Dante had become her rock, both father and master, mentor and enforcer, after that fateful day when her parents had made the decision to give her away.

In those early moments of uncertainty and loss, he had taken her under his wing, guiding her not only in combat but in finding her strength in her own life and in a pack that was not her family.

She had no bonds inside the pack, just Dante.

She recalled the way he had patiently taught her the art of hand-to-hand combat, how his voice would encourage her to push beyond her limits, to embrace pain and transform it into power.

With every lesson, he instilled in her a sense of purpose, teaching her not only to fight but to stand tall in the face of danger. He had become more than just a mentor; he was her protector.

Lena’s wolf stirred deep within her, a restless presence of her unknown bloodline.

“You should keep your distance from the Alpha’s son.” Dante’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“Why?” Lena’s voice was steady, but inside, her heart began to race just a little. She wasn’t sure why Marcus’s presence unsettled her so. They were both warriors, both bound by the same pack. They had shared a few brief moments together, but today was the first time she felt something unspoken between them.

Dante stepped closer, leaning in and whispering, so only Lena could hear.

“Alpha’s son is not like the others. His bloodline runs deep. You don’t need to get tangled up in that.”

Lena felt the air thicken with the weight of his words.

Nyx stirred inside, as if she was hurt by his words.

She knew what Dante meant, of course. Marcus’s lineage was important; His position within the pack as the Alpha’s son made him a figurehead, an heir to leadership.

“I will keep my distance.” Lena’s voice was firm, her back straightening as she faced Dante, meeting his gaze without flinching. “We were just practicing,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.

Dante moved his attention back to the warriors that were training, his mind already moved to the next thing.

Lena could see the slight frown appear on his brow. Her eyes also turned to the warriors.

In the Ross pack there were two types of protective forces.

The warriors and the Elite.

The warriors were the backbone of the pack's defense. They were skilled fighters, powerful and swift, but their role was largely focused on direct protection. Warriors were expected to fight on the front lines, to guard the pack, and to engage in battle whenever necessary. They trained day in and day out to be prepared for any threat, from rival packs to rogue wolves or even human threats.

They were the muscle, the ones who carried out the will of the Alpha and the higher-ranking wolves. They were mostly omegas but there was a beta or two between them.

Lena had always belonged to the warriors. It was where she’d been molded since Dante had taken her in, shaping her into the fighter she was now.

But there was always something about the Elite that made her wish to be higher up in the hierarchy.

The Elite were a selected group of warriors who had proven themselves in battle time and time again, those who had earned their place through both skill and cunning. They were the Alpha’s personal guard, tasked with protecting him and his family at all costs.

They were not just fighters; they were tacticians, strategists. Each member of the Elite was chosen for their unique abilities. They operated in the shadows, protecting the pack’s most vulnerable assets — a role that was both prestigious and dangerous.

Lena’s gaze shifted, her attention drawn to a few of the Elite standing off to the side of the training hall. Dante, too, seemed to notice the Elite, his jaw tightening ever so slightly as he scanned them.

His frown deepened. Lena had seen him act like this before — cold, calculating, suspicious.

“They’re not your concern, and that is not your place”. Dante said as if he was reading her thoughts, his tone still hard, but now there was something else there, something strange. He was watching the Elite, his eyes narrowed.

Lena glanced back at him. “I wasn’t thinking about them.” But the words felt hollow.

Nyx stirred inside of her, the question burned in her chest, and she couldn’t push it down any longer.

She turned toward Dante and took a step closer to him, her tone controlled but firm. “Dante, why should I avoid him?”

He didn’t answer right away, choosing instead to focus on the distant sparring warriors. He always did this, creating a silence around the question to let it simmer, to see if she would back down.

"He’s the Alpha’s son. His bloodline is everything. And if you let yourself get too close, you’ll lose yourself in it."

Lena's eyes moved to the large wooden door where Marcus had disappeared. She had felt the pull between them, the connection that seemed to hum in the air when they touched.

Dante’s voice pierced through her thoughts once more, cutting through the haze of uncertainty that clouded her mind. “Did you feel something? Did your wolf say something?”

Lena's chest tightened at his question. She knew exactly what he was asking, mate.

“No, I was just wondering…” she replied, her voice trailing off, uncertainty creeping into her words.

“Then you can stay away,” Dante interrupted, his voice sharper now.

For a fleeting moment, his eyes softened the hardness that usually shone through them, fading slightly, As if he were wrestling with something deeper. But just as quickly, the mask snapped back into place.

“You don’t understand,” he continued, his tone grave.

"Alpha’s son may seem like just another warrior, but he’s far from ordinary. His bloodline makes him a target — for alliances, for enemies, for power plays. Anyone who gets too close to him risks being dragged into that dangerous web of ambition and betrayal. I raised you, Lena. I want you to stay safe and far away from all of it.”

Lena steadied her breathing, the weight of his words settling deep within her. He was right—he was always right. The world of werewolves is dangerous, and the lines drawn between loyalty and betrayal are often blurred.

“Let’s move, get back to training,” Dante said, sternly.

Lena nodded. She knew she needed to focus on her training and push down, the scent of wood and fresh rain that lingered on her hand from Marcus.