The Alpha Cursed Luna

Chapter 3 When The Moon Burns Red

Layla

"Hand me the bowl, kid. The soup’s ready."

Carmen’s voice broke through the small room, calm but clear. I blinked, snapping out of my thoughts, and looked at the pot she was stirring. The smell of herbs and broth wrapped around me, making my stomach growl before I could stop it.

Feeling a little embarrassed, I held out the old wooden bowl. My hands shook a bit under her sharp stare. Carmen noticed everything. She always did.

She scooped the soup carefully, her hand steady even though she moved slow, like someone who’d done this a thousand times. When she placed the bowl in my hands, the heat soaked into my fingers. The ache in them eased a little.

"Eat," she said, softer this time. "You’re too thin. Like a stick about to snap."

I looked down, more out of shame than anything else, and lifted the bowl. The first sip wasn’t anything fancy. Just herbs, roots, and salt. But the warmth of it hit me so hard my eyes stung. Not from the heat. From the fact that it was real food. Not trash. Not something I had to steal or fight for.

Nobody had ever cared enough to feed me before.

Except her.

I glanced at Carmen. She was still at the pot, stirring, humming a tune. The same tune I’d heard the day I woke up here, two years ago.

I remembered that day like it had just happened.

I’d been running for days. No plan, no idea where I was going. Just trying to get away. Away from the pack. Away from the wolves who had laughed when Kael, the only one I had trusted, spoke those words:

"I reject her."

I remembered the witch, too.

"You carry quite the storm inside you, little wolf."

At the time, I’d laughed in her face, bitter and sharp. Me? A storm? I was barely a breeze. Just a stray, a nobody with a broken bond and an emptier heart.

I ate wild berries when I got too hungry, but they were the wrong kind.

The last thing I remembered was the bitter taste and the cold ground hitting my face.

When I woke up, I smelled herbs. My whole body hurt, but the bed under me was soft. Safe.

That was the first time I heard her voice.

"Finally awake."

I turned my head, weak, dry-mouthed. "Who... who are you? Where am I?"

She didn’t look at me. She kept working, grinding leaves into powder with slow, steady hands.

"Destiny brought you here," she said, like it was no big deal. "Or the poisoned berries, more likely. You were almost dead when I found you."

I lay there, unsure whether to believe her or run.

"And as for who I am," she said, pouring the powder into a kettle, "I’m the one who’ll guide you toward the path you’ve been avoiding."

She held the cup to my lips. The taste was awful, but my body needed it, and I drank every drop.

When I gave the cup back, she looked at me for the first time.

"My name’s Carmen."

———

The fire popped and crackled, pulling me back to the present. My bowl was already half empty, even though I couldn’t remember eating that much.

Carmen sat down across from me, her dark eyes watching me closely.

"You’ve gotten stronger," she said, like she’d already known the answer. "But strength won’t be enough."

My stomach tightened. "Enough for what?"

She didn’t answer, not right away. Her fingers touched the bone necklace around her neck, tracing one of the charms.

"Fate doesn’t break," she said softly. "It only gets messy."

I knew what she meant.

Kael.

The name still hurt, even after all this time. I thought the bond had broken the day he rejected me. But deep down, I could still feel it. Weak, but there.

Carmen kept her eyes on me.

"You’re not that lost kid anymore," she said. "But you can’t move on until you face what you left."

I stared into the cold soup, not answering.

"Or who," she added.

She didn’t have to say it again. I already knew.

No matter how far I ran, the truth was always the same.

Fate wasn’t done with me.

And neither was he.

That night, the fire was burning low, just enough to paint the walls in a soft flicker. I lay there, half asleep, the warmth pulling me under.

Then I heard it.

A sound. Soft at first — like feet on wet leaves. My eyes snapped open, and before I could even sit up, the door exploded inward. Wood cracked. The air filled with the stench of wet fur and blood.

They came in fast. Shadows with teeth. Wolves, but not like any pack I'd seen in the wild. Their eyes were empty, cold. They weren't there to scare us.

They were there to kill.

One of them moved straight for me, leaping over the small space like I wasn’t even awake. But something inside me snapped. A heat surged through my chest — sharp and wild.

Then the pain started.

My spine arched, bones grinding as they shifted. I could feel my fingers stretching, curling, turning into claws. My skin burned, splitting open as fur pushed through. My jaw cracked wide, reshaping. It hurt, but it was fast — too fast to scream.

I dropped to all fours just as he reached me.

I didn’t think. I didn’t have to. My wolf was in control now.

I launched upward, smashing into him mid-air. Teeth sank deep into his side. I heard the crunch of bone, his ribs cracking under me. His blood spilled hot across my fur, thick and sharp-smelling.

Another came at me from the side — I turned fast, faster than I ever had as a human. My jaws clamped down around his throat. I tasted blood and heard a gurgle. He dropped before his feet even touched the floor.

Carmen’s voice, sharp and full of fire, cut through the chaos for one second. I turned — saw her standing, a blade in her hand. She swung once, cutting deep into one of them, but another came from behind. His claws were faster.

I heard the sound. A wet, awful sound.

"Carmen!"

I ripped through the last one near me, but another wolf — the last — backed away. His body shook, torn and bleeding, but he didn't fall. He ran. Out the broken door, into the night.

I wanted to chase him. My wolf begged for it. But when I turned back, I saw her.

Carmen was on the floor, her hands pressing against her stomach. There was too much blood. I dropped to her side, shifting back, hands shaking as I tried to stop it.

"Stay with me," I whispered.

Her dark eyes found mine, soft and calm — like always. Even now. She touched my cheek, her fingers cold.

With trembling fingers, she reached for the necklace around her throat — the one made of bone and old magic. Slowly, she pulled it over her head and closed my hand around a small charm at its center, shaped like a crescent moon and warm despite everything.

"When the moon burns red," she whispered, her voice barely there, "this will show you the truth. Don’t be afraid of what you are."

"It was always going to end this way, little wolf," she added, the last flicker of fire in her fading. "Your path... isn't here."

I held her tighter, but I felt it when her hand went still. When her chest stopped rising.

Gone.

For a long time, I just sat there. Holding her. The charm pressed into my palm like a promise.

Then, slowly, the tears dried up. A cold emptiness settled in its place, but it didn't stay long. It didn't take long for the anger to come, bubbling up from deep inside me. It wasn’t a sudden thing. It was like a knot unravelling, starting small but growing until it was all I could feel.

I shoved her body aside, my hands shaking, rough. The weight of my grief twisted into something else. Something darker.

I turned one of the bodies over, wanting to understand what was left. That’s when I saw it.

A mark burned into his neck. A brand.

Silverfang.

The symbol was crude, a jagged wolf’s head with sharp, uneven lines, as if it had been scorched into his skin.

Raw and bleeding, it marked him as part of Kael’s pack.

It felt like the whole world had gone silent. My heart didn’t break this time.

It hardened.