Lunar Blood**Crimson pack

The Crescent Bay skyline shimmered under a humid July night, its glass towers reflecting the distant Pacific like a fractured mirror. Hannah Summers, twenty-six and teetering on burnout, leaned against the railing of a waterfront pier, the ocean’s rhythm steadying her frayed nerves. Her phone buzzed in her jacket pocket, another email from her boss, probably demanding revisions to tomorrow’s ad campaign. She ignored it. Tonight, she needed the stars, not stress. The news had been buzzing about a total solar eclipse, a rare event set to darken the West Coast tomorrow afternoon. Hannah wasn’t big on celestial hype, but the moon felt personal, like a quiet confidant. Her grandmother’s voice echoed from childhood: “Eclipses are doorways, Hannah. They lead where you’re meant to go.” The jade pendant around her neck,a crescent moon carved with delicate swirls...felt warm, a relic from those stories. Hannah tucked her dark hair behind her ear, her fingers brushing the pendant. Her life, endless client pitches, ghosted dating apps, a nagging sense of being unmoored, wasn’t what she’d dreamed of at twenty-six. The air grew heavy, charged with a hum she couldn’t pinpoint. The pendant pulsed, a faint glow against her skin. She glanced at the moon, too bright for the city’s glow. Her vision blurred, the world spinning like a carousel off its axis. The ocean below churned, its surface rippling with something not of Crescent Bay, something wild, primal. Her heart raced. “What’s happening?” she whispered, clutching the railing. The pier vanished. Darkness engulfed her, cold and suffocating, like plunging into an icy sea. The pendant burned, a green flare in the void. Then, nothing. When Hannah opened her eyes, she was sprawled on damp grass, the scent of pine and earth thick in her lungs. Her jeans and jacket were gone, replaced by a fitted leather vest and pants, soft but unfamiliar. Her hair was loose, tangled with twigs, and the pendant still hung at her throat, cool now, as if it had spent its power. Above, a full moon blazed, casting silver light over a forest clearing she didn’t recognize. “Where am I?” she muttered, her voice shaky. She stood, legs unsteady, and scanned the scene: towering redwoods, a distant howl, a flicker of firelight through the trees. This wasn’t Crescent Bay. This wasn’t her world. Footsteps crunched behind her. A young woman in a similar leather outfit, her freckled face pale with worry, rushed forward. “Summer! You’re awake! Thank the Moon Mother!” She dropped to her knees beside Hannah, her hands trembling. “We thought you were lost after the ritual went wrong.” “Summer?” Hannah’s head spun. “I’m Hannah. Hannah Summers. Who are you?” The woman frowned, her green eyes wide. “Hannah? You hit your head during the moon rite, Summer. I’m Clara, your pack-sister. Don’t you remember?” Her voice dropped. “The alpha’s pissed. You can’t be out here alone.” Hannah’s stomach twisted. Pack-sister? Alpha? She touched the pendant, her only tether. “What year is it?” she asked, barely audible. Clara blinked, confused. “1999, Summer. The Year of the Crimson Moon, under Alpha Titus’s reign.” 1999? That was right, but everything else was wrong. The forest, the leather, the talk of alphas, this was another reality. The eclipse. The pendant. Her grandmother’s words: A doorway. Had she… slipped into someone else’s life? A howl pierced the night, followed by shouts and the thud of boots. “Clear the path for the Fourth Alpha!” a voice barked. Clara stiffened, grabbing Hannah’s arm. “Stay quiet, Summer. Silas Stone is… dangerous.” “Silas Stone?” The name sent a shiver through her, like a half-remembered dream. The trees parted, and a man strode into the clearing, his presence a storm of raw power. He was tall, his black hair wild, falling over a face both striking and menacing. A jagged scar ran across his left cheek, stark in the moonlight. His eyes, amber and piercing, locked onto Hannah, pinning her in place. He wore a black leather jacket over a tight shirt, a silver claw pendant at his throat, and his aura screamed predator. This was Silas Stone, the Fourth Alpha of the Crimson Pack, an outcast feared for his ruthless strength. “You’re awake,” he said, his voice a low growl that vibrated in her chest. “Good. I don’t waste time on the weak.” Hannah’s instincts flared, her modern defiance kicking in. “Excuse me? Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?” Clara gasped, tugging her arm. “Summer, please!” Silas’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of intrigue in their depths. “Bold words for a ritual failure. I pulled you from that moon pool, Summer. You owe me.” He stepped closer, his scent. pine and iron, overwhelming. “And I don’t like debts.” Hannah’s mind raced. This was the counterpart , the scarred prince reimagined as a werewolf alpha. But why had he saved her? And why call her Summer? “I don’t know what’s going on,” she said, steadying her voice. “I’m not who you think.” He tilted his head, studying her like prey that had surprised him. “Not who I think? Then who are you, if not Summer of the Lunar Clan, who nearly drowned herself in a botched rite?” She opened her mouth, then closed it. She couldn’t say she was from another 1999, not yet. “I… hit my head,” she said, echoing Clara’s excuse. “I’m still figuring it out.” He snorted, a mix of amusement and disdain. “Figure it out fast. The pack doesn’t coddle strays.” He turned to leave, then paused, his eyes flickering to her pendant. “And stay out of moon pools. I won’t save you again.” As he melted into the trees, Clara exhaled, her hands shaking. “Summer, you can’t challenge Silas like that! He’s the Fourth Alpha, scarred by his own kin. They say he’s cursed, that he brings death to any pack he joins.” Hannah barely listened. Her gaze lingered on the shadows where Silas had vanished, his amber eyes burned into her mind. Cursed or not, he’d saved her. And that look, he’d seen something in her, something she didn’t yet understand. The next few days were a whirlwind of claws and moonlight. Clara explained that Hannah was Summer, a Lunar Clan member with dormant moon magic, living in the Crimson Pack’s stronghold, a sprawling compound of cabins and training grounds in the forests outside Crescent Bay. The pack, led by Alpha Titus, was a tense hierarchy of werewolves, each vying for dominance. Summer’s “accident” during a lunar rite, a ritual to awaken her magic, had left her vulnerable, a target in a pack where weakness was a death sentence. The compound was ruled by Titus’s sons, the alpha heirs. Wyatt Stone, the Eighth Alpha, was Silas’s opposite: warm, diplomatic, with a smile that eased Hannah’s nerves. He found her at the training grounds, where she was fumbling through a sparring session with Clara. His flannel shirt was open, revealing a lean build, and his hazel eyes sparkled with kindness. “You’re different, Summer,” he said, tossing her a water bottle. “Since the ritual, you’re… bolder.” Hannah caught the bottle, her cheeks warming. “Different how?” He grinned, leaning closer. “You look at the world like it’s brand new. It’s… refreshing.” His voice was smooth, like a warm breeze, and she felt a flutter she hadn’t expected. Wyatt was safe, steady, the kind of guy she’d have swiped right on in her old life. But her thoughts kept drifting to Silas. She’d seen him training, his movements lethal, his scar a stark reminder of his exile within the pack. When their eyes met across the grounds, her heart raced, a pull she couldn’t explain. That night, unable to sleep, Hannah slipped out to a moonlit clearing. The forest hummed with life, the full moon casting shadows that danced like wolves. She clutched her pendant, whispering, “Grandma, what is this place?” A low growl made her spin. Silas stood there, his jacket gone, his shirt clinging to his frame. His scar gleamed in the moonlight, and his amber eyes glowed faintly, a werewolf trait she was still adjusting to. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he said, his voice softer but no less intense. “The forest isn’t safe for strays.” She squared her shoulders, defiance rising. “Maybe I’m not a stray. Maybe I’m just… lost.” He stepped closer, his gaze piercing. “Lost or not, you’re trouble. No one else would dare talk to me like that.” “Maybe you need someone to,” she said, her pulse racing. “You’re not as scary as they think.” He laughed, a rough, bitter sound. “You don’t know me, Summer. And you don’t want to.” But as he turned to leave, she grabbed his arm, her fingers brushing warm skin. “Wait. Why did you save me? You could’ve let me drown.” He froze, his expression unreadable. Then, quietly, he said, “Because you looked… like you didn’t belong. Like me.” Before she could reply, he pulled away, his form blurring as he shifted, a massive black wolf vanishing into the trees. Hannah stood alone, the pendant warm against her skin, her heart pounding. She was in a world of wolves, caught between two alphas and a destiny she couldn’t name. The moon above whispered: The eclipse is coming.