The White Wolf

Chapter 8 - The Moon Rises

Morgan

The sun hadn’t even fully set yet.

The sky was still bruised with purple and orange, but the pull in my chest was already unbearable. It felt like my ribs were being hammered from the inside out.

"Hurry," I gasped, leaning heavily against the damp stone wall of the old cellar.

Anna stood beside me, fumbling frantically with the heavy steel chains. Her hands were shaking as she finally managed to click the thick, iron lined cuffs into place around my wrists, locking the heavy tethers to the solid masonry.

Regular metal would never hold a shifting wolf because we could snap standard steel like brittle twigs. The cuffs had to be laced with just enough raw iron to burn the skin and poison our supernatural strength, keeping us too weak to break the defences without actually killing us.

"I’m trying," she muttered, her breath hitching as she checked the locks. "But Morgan, the moon isn’t even up yet. We should have had more time."

"I know!" I gritted my teeth, a low, vibrating growl tearing from my throat that didn't sound human at all.

It was the centuries of ice. The suppressed magic. My wolf was starving for the moon, and she refused to wait for nightfall.

A sickening, wet crack echoed in the small room. My spine was elongating.

"Morgan?" Anna stepped closer, her eyes wide as she reached out to steady me.

"Get out!" I screamed, but the words disintegrated into a guttural roar.

The shift hit like an explosion. My body buckled, the ancient magic masking my scent evaporating in an instant. I lashed out blindly. Not to attack but to shove her away from the danger.

But I had no control. My arm swung with the force of a wrecking ball, my hand already snapping and reforming into a massive, clawed paw.

The heavy claws caught Anna right across the shoulder, slicing deep through her jacket.

The physical weight of the blow was devastating. It lifted her off her feet and threw her backward, her body slamming hard against the far stone wall. She let out a choked, strangled cry and crumpled to the dirt, entirely motionless.

Time stopped.

The sharp, metallic smell of her blood hit my heightened senses. For a fraction of a heartbeat, the predator inside me surged, but then I saw her.

Anna

She was huddled on the floor, clutching her shoulder as dark blood began to pool through her fingers.

A high pitched, pathetic whine tore from my throat — a pure, panicked sound of complete remorse. The feral beast inside me recoiled in absolute horror. I hurt my anchor.

Anna finally gasped, forcing herself up on one arm. Her face was ghost white, tight with agony. She looked up at me, and her breath caught.

She wasn't looking at a girl anymore. She was staring up at a beast the size of a grizzly, radiating a blinding, luminescent white in the dim cellar. Her eyes went wide with a terrifying mix of absolute awe and sheer terror.

"I’m fine!" Anna shouted, her voice breaking as she stumbled backward toward the heavy iron door, never taking her eyes off me. "I’m going back to Sophie. I promise... I'm fine!"

She threw herself out of the room and slammed the door shut. The heavy clatter of the deadbolt sliding into place echoed through the dark.

Alone, with the scent of her blood lingering in the air, I let the monster take over. My royal blood surged, and the White Wolf — huge, ancient, and overflowing with four hundred years of repressed agony — fully claimed my mind.

I yanked my chained arm against the wall. The iron lining the cuffs burned like white hot acid against my fur, searing my flesh and trying to poison my strength, but my raw, ancient power simply dwarfed the pain.

With a deafening roar, I ripped the iron anchor straight out of the masonry.

I was free.

Anna

I didn’t look back as the heavy deadbolt slammed into place. I couldn’t. If I looked back, my knees would have given out completely.

My shoulder was on fire. I kept my good hand clamped hard over the torn fabric of my jacket, my fingers already slick and warm with my own blood. Every step I took through the dark forest sent a fresh, blinding wave of agony down my arm, but I forced my legs to keep moving.

I made a promise. I had to get back to Sophie.

My mind was spinning. The sheer size of her — the blinding, luminescent white fur in the dark — it was beautiful and terrifying all at once. She really was a myth breathing in the woods.

I was halfway to the pack house when the wind suddenly shifted.

The air didn't just change; it exploded. The ancient magic Morgan used to mask her scent must have shattered the second her bones broke in that cellar. A massive wave of scent washed through the trees, slamming into me so hard I physically stumbled, my shoulder knocking hard against the rough bark of a pine tree.

It smelled like winter frost, ozone, and something so impossibly sweet it made my head spin.

It hit my chest, stealing the breath right out of my lungs. My wolf didn't cower from the scent of the apex predator who had just slashed us open. Instead, she clawed frantically at my ribs, whining in absolute, desperate longing.

Mate.

The word echoed in my mind, ringing with a terrifying, undeniable clarity. I gasped, leaning heavily against a tree as the truth locked into place.

It wasn’t just a crush. It wasn’t just curiosity. That strange, quiet pull I’d felt since the very first day I looked into her hazel eyes... the warmth in my chest when she trusted me with her real name... it all made perfect sense.

Morgan had confessed she was fighting a mate bond with Felix. But standing here in the dark, my soul entirely anchored to the scent in the wind, I realized the impossible truth.

She wasn't just Felix's mate. She was mine.

But the breathtaking realization came with a sharp, icy spike of pure panic.

If I could smell her this clearly... so could he. The shield was gone. The whole forest would know. My twin brother's wolf was going to go completely feral the second that winter frost hit his lungs.

"Get up," I hissed to myself through gritted teeth, "Get up, Anna."

I pushed off the tree, ignoring the fresh, sickening spike of pain in my shoulder, and broke into a heavy sprint toward the pack house.

I had to get to my room. I had to hide this injury from my parents. Most importantly, I had to lock the door and keep Sophie safe.

Morgan was out there. The last White Wolf was awake. And heaven help anyone in this pack who tried to stand in her way.

Felix

“Did you hear that?” Cole asked, stopping dead in his tracks.

Jasper and I halted beside him. We were a few miles out from the pack house, running a routine evening patrol to check the perimeter before the moon hit its peak. The woods were usually silent this close to the shift, the birds and small prey hiding from the predators about to wake.

“Sounded like a building collapsing,” Jasper muttered, his hand going to the hilt of his hunting knife. “Over by the old ridge?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn't.

Because right then, the wind shifted. It dragged a scent across the clearing that slammed into me so hard my knees actually buckled. It was like being hit by a tidal wave of winter frost and ancient magic — cold, sharp, and entirely intoxicating.

Mate.

The word didn't just whisper in my mind; it roared. My wolf howled inside my chest, thrashing against my ribs with a violence I’d never felt before. He was completely feral, desperate to tear through the brush and claim whatever had just shattered its scent shield.

“Flick?” Cole frowned, stepping toward me, his hand hovering over my shoulder. “Dude, your eyes are glowing. They’re full gold. What is it?”

“Follow me,” I growled, the sound ripping from my throat more animal than man.

I didn’t wait for them. I took off, my boots shredding the damp forest floor. I wasn't running a patrol route anymore. I was just following the invisible, magnetic thread pulling at my very soul.

Suddenly, the dense trees broke open into a small clearing bathed in the dying light of the sun and the first silver rays of the rising moon.

I skidded to a halt, my heels digging deep into the dirt. Cole crashed into my shoulder, and Jasper swore under his breath behind us, both of them freezing instantly.

None of us breathed.

Standing at the edge of the clearing was a ghost.

But it wasn’t a ghost. It was a wolf. It wasn’t ash grey, nightfall black, or even deep brown. It was white. A bright, blinding, impossible white that seemed to drink in the moonlight and glow from within. It was colossal — easily the size of a grizzly bear — with shoulders so broad it looked like it could snap a pine tree in half.

The beast turned its massive head toward us. It didn't snarl. It didn't crouch. It just watched us with a terrifying, regal stillness. A broken length of heavy, iron lined chain dragged along the dirt from its massive paw, clinking softly against the stones.

Its eyes locked onto mine.

I just stared into those crystalline, hazel green eyes. They were filled with an ancient, predatory power that made my soul scream Mate, Mate, Mate, but my brain fractured under the reality of what I was seeing.

I saw a legend. I saw a goddess of the woods that shouldn't exist.

My human brain — the Alpha in training — screamed at me to fight, to protect my territory from this impossible, colossal apex predator.

But my wolf didn't care about territory. My wolf wanted to drop me to my knees in the dirt, whining in pure, instinctual submission to his Queen.

“What is that?” Jasper whispered, his voice trembling so hard it cracked. “Flick, what the hell is that?”

I couldn’t find my voice.

The White Wolf let out a low, mourning huff. She didn't look aggressive; she looked completely overwhelmed. She turned away from us and vanished into the darkness of the trees like a streak of winter lightning.

The sweet, frosty scent lingered, burning in my lungs.

“A Royal,” Cole breathed, his face completely ashen. “That was a Royal White.”

I looked at the broken iron chain left behind in the dirt. My chest ached with a longing so sharp it felt like a physical wound. She was a myth. And she was out there, terrified and alone, dragging a broken chain through my woods.

I didn't care about the pack rules right now. I didn't care about the danger. I was going to hunt her down.

Morgan

I could hear the frantic heartbeat of a mouse a mile away. I could smell the terror of the deer hidden deep in the valley, and the lingering, intoxicating scent of Felix’s shock — a scent that made my beast want to drop to the forest floor, roll in the dirt, and howl until the stars fell out of the sky.

But the most jarring thing wasn't my heightened senses. It was the absolute, dead silence of the woods.

As I glided through the trees, my massive white fur cutting through the darkness like a blade of light, the environment completely froze. No crickets chirped. No wind rustled the leaves. Even the owls had stopped calling. The entire ecosystem was holding its breath in the wake of an apex predator it hadn't felt in centuries.

Every muscle in my body coiled and released with a power that felt terrifyingly limitless.

But as the initial exhilaration of the shift faded, cold reality set in.

My scent.

In my panic, the ancient magic holding my scent back had completely shattered. I wasn't a void anymore. My unique, Royal signature was screaming across the valley for miles, carried on the winter wind. The hunters I was hiding from — Danny's loyalists, the wolves who had slaughtered my family, the ones still continuing his dark legacy... if any of them were close, I had just painted a massive, glowing target on my back. And worse... my massive right paw felt heavy, stained with the phantom warmth of Anna’s blood.

The pathetic, panicked whine I’d let out in the cellar still echoed in my mind. I was a Queen without a throne. A monster who had just shredded the only person who had shown her true kindness in this new world. I was a fugitive who had just announced her location to everyone.

How could Anna ever look at me the same way again?

I pushed deeper into the mountains, running far beyond the Nightwalker territory, up to where the air grew thin and the snow still clung to the jagged peaks.

I finally reached the highest ledge. The valley of the pack house was laid out like a tiny toy set far below me. I sat back on my haunches, the broken steel chain still clinking against my chest, the iron burns still stinging my flesh — a stark, burning reminder of the humanity I’d left behind in that cellar.

Anna

I slipped through the pack house’s back entrance like a ghost.

The halls were empty — everyone was either out on patrol or already locked down for the moon. I pressed my good shoulder against the wall, keeping the blood soaked side of my jacket hidden in the shadows as I hurried up the stairs.

By the time I reached my bedroom and slid the heavy deadbolt into place, my knees finally gave out. I slid down the wood, biting the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted copper just to keep from crying out.

The physical pain was blinding, but my wolf wasn't focused on the wound. She was completely anchored to the massive, terrifying presence echoing from the deep woods. My mate.

“Anna?”

I snapped my head up. Sophie was sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes, clutching her blankets to her chest.

I scrambled to my feet, carefully keeping my injured shoulder angled away from her so she wouldn't see the dark stain spreading across my jacket. I forced a calm smile, though my face felt like it might crack. “Hey, bug. Did I wake you?”

“It’s too quiet,” she whispered, her wide eyes looking toward the window.

She was right. The crickets, the owls, the wind — everything had completely stopped. The entire forest was holding its breath.

“It’s just the moon,” I lied smoothly, walking over and brushing the hair from her forehead with my uninjured hand. “Everything is okay. I’m right here.”

And then, the silence shattered.

It started low — a vibration that rattled the glass in the windowpane and buzzed against my teeth. Then, it tore through the night sky. It wasn't a normal howl. It was a devastating, sorrowful earthquake that rattled the very marrow in my bones. It was a sound of ancient, unimaginable grief.

Sophie gasped, covering her ears. “What is that?”

I stared out the window toward the pitch black mountain peaks, my heart shattering for the monster who had just slashed me open.

“That,” I whispered, my voice breaking in the dark, “is your Aunt”

Morgan

I tilted my massive head back beneath the supermoon.

I didn't howl for the pack. I didn't howl for Felix. I didn’t even howl for Anna.

I howled for my mother. For my father. For my sisters. For the empire that turned to ash while I slept in the ice.

The sound ripped through the night, but it wasn't a normal howl. It was an ancient, devastating frequency, a sorrowful earthquake that rattled the very marrow of every wolf in the valley below. It lacked the guttural, raw rasp of a common timber wolf; it was clear, piercing, and entirely royal.

It was a warning to every hidden creature in these woods.

The White Wolf was awake. And she was very, very hungry.