The Moonblood Prophecy

CHAPTER TWO — THE ROGUE PRINCE

RONAN'S POV

Most wolves think being a prince means luxury. Soft furs. Golden goblets. Servants bowing so low their foreheads scrape the stone floors.

But for me? Being a prince means running for my life through a forest that wants to swallow me whole.

I crash through the underbrush, breaths slicing the cold air, the metallic scent of my hunters filling my nose. They’re close… close enough that I can hear their feet pounding the earth behind me. Heavy. Unrelenting. Trained to kill.

The elders called them Cleaners. No one survives the Cleaners.

My father, the great Alpha King, would call this a “necessary purge”. A political cleanup. Wolves who question him tend to disappear. Wolves who refuse to kill on command? We die faster.

And me? I am the biggest disappointment the wolf kingdom has ever raised.

A prince who doesn’t enjoy war.

A prince who questions the moon laws.

A prince who believes we don’t need to s*******r witches to breathe. Unacceptable. A disgrace. A threat.

I dig my claws into the soil as I leap into wolf form, bones twisting, muscles shifting until fur erupts along my skin. The transformation is brutal, ripping through me like wildfire… but the pain is familiar. Almost comforting.

The cleaners chase harder once they see my shift. Wolves hunt better when their prey looks like them. A blade whistles past me; silver-tipped. They’re not playing tonight.

I dodge left, teeth bared, and keep running. My father taught me everything about survival. Not because he loves me. He doesn’t, but because a prince must know how to outlive assassination attempts.

“Ronan!” one of the Cleaners howls behind me. “Stop running. Die like royalty.”

I bark out a laugh.

“Catch me first.”

I leap over a ravine, using the moonlight as my guide, landing hard enough to jolt my bones. But I don’t stop. I won’t stop. Not when my instincts are screaming at me to keep moving eastward. East. That strange… pull.

It had started only minutes ago, a small tug beneath my ribs. Now it’s grown into a sharp, magnetic force dragging me in one direction. It isn’t magic. It isn’t wolf instinct. It isn’t fear. It feels like someone calling me without speaking. Someone with power woven into their breath.

Someone alive. And female. I shake the thought away.

This is the worst possible time for hallucinations. But the tug jerks inside me again, harder. And suddenly I feel something else. Fear. Pain. Confusion. Not mine. Someone else’s.

It steals the air from my lungs. The force of it nearly knocks me off my feet.

“What in the moon’s name…?” I pant.

The Cleaners howl behind me, closing in, but I barely hear them now. All my attention focuses on that invisible connection threading through my chest.

I’ve felt many things in my life: rage, duty, and regret, but never this. It feels like a heartbeat pressing against my own. A heartbeat that doesn’t belong to me.

LYANNA'S POV

My knees hit the forest floor. I don’t remember falling. One moment I was trying to breathe, and the next my entire body was shaking. The pull inside my chest expands again, this time so sharply that tears burn my eyes.

“Who are you?” I whisper to the wind, gripping the earth so hard dirt packs under my nails. Someone out there is hurting. Someone powerful. Wild. Alive.

And somehow… I feel every breath he takes.

RONAN'S POV

Her fear hits me like cold steel. My paws skid against the soil; I almost crash into a tree. Every hair on my body stands on end. That wasn’t just emotion. It was real. Vivid. Raw.

I shift back to human – naked, bleeding, panting – and slap a palm against the nearest tree to keep myself upright. My vision flickers. For a second, I see flashes of someone else’s world. A girl. A hand gripping leaves. Moonlight cracking through trees.

Her breath is shallow. Her heart is racing. Her magic is trembling. I feel all of it.

“This is impossible,” I rasp.

Witches and wolves don’t connect. It’s forbidden. Unnatural. The moon itself rejects their magic. And yet… She’s calling to me without even knowing it. Or maybe I’m calling to her.

A blade flashes behind me. I twist just in time, but it slices across my shoulder, opening flesh to the bone. Hot blood spills down my arm. I snarl in pain as the Cleaners close in, circling like vultures.

“End of the line, prince,” one hisses.

They shift into wolves, fur bristling, eyes glowing with bloodlust. Three of them. Bigger than normal wolves. Enhanced warriors, bred to eliminate royal threats. The ones meant to kill me. My father must be really desperate.

“Come on then,” I growl. “Let’s see who dies first.”

I lunge at the closest one, shifting mid-air. My bones c***k, organs rearrange, and fur explodes outward. I slam into him with my full weight, sending us both rolling through the dirt. We tear into each other. Teeth. Blood. Claws. Pain. I bite into his throat. Hot blood pours into my mouth. He goes still.

Two left. I barely have time to stand before they strike. Teeth sink into my back. Claws rake across my ribs. I howl, but I don’t fall. I can’t fall. Because the pull sharpens again, so strong I swear someone has wrapped an invisible chain around my soul and yanked.

The girl. Her presence surges inside me; fear again, but also something else. Defiance. She’s fighting something. Or someone. And the sensation pumps strength back into my limbs, strength I shouldn’t have left. I slam one Cleaner into a tree. Bones c***k. Wolf whimpers. Silence. The last one circles me, snarling. Bigger than the others. Stronger.

The leader. He leaps, fangs bared, aiming for my throat.

The moment he touches me, a jolt of power shoots through my body. Not mine. Hers. It electrifies me, burning through every nerve like wildfire. The Cleaner’s eyes widen.

Too late. I twist, grab him by the neck, and break it clean.

Silence. I stand there, panting, bleeding heavily, barely holding on. The forest spins around me. My vision blurs.

But the pull… The girl… I feel her again. Stronger now. Clearer.

Her magic touches mine like a warm hand pressed to my chest. Comforting. Terrifying. Impossible. I stare eastward.

“I’m coming,” I whisper.

Those two words slip out before I can stop them. Before I can doubt them. Before I can pretend I’m still choosing any of this. Because deep in my bones, deeper than wolf instinct, deeper than royal blood. I know she’s the reason the moon didn’t let me die tonight.

I stagger forward, body screaming, heart pounding, guided by a force I can’t explain or resist. Not fate. Not magic. Not instinct.

Something older.

Something forbidden.

Something alive.

With every step I take, the bond tightens, pulling us closer, threading our worlds together, sealing something we haven’t even begun to understand. But I know one thing with absolute certainty: whatever waits at the end of this connection, whatever girl trembles under the same moonlight. She is trouble. Danger. Destiny.

And if I find her… my entire life will change. Maybe even end. But I walk toward her anyway. Because a prince can be many things: a disappointment, a rebel, a threat, but he cannot ignore the call of a bond written in blood.