Zero’s POV
The howling wouldn’t stop. It was like a silver bullet through a werewolf’s heart—a strike so deep it carved into my psyche. The sound clawed at my sensitive ears, even as I rolled to the far side of my den. I pressed my palms against them, pushing so hard I almost ruptured my augmented eardrums.
"Ughhh! Stop that infernal noise!"
Miraculously, the sound cut off, and I could breathe again. Just as I was about to drift back into slumber, the haunting howl rose again—louder, more urgent this time, like a phantom screaming for salvation.
“Will you turn off that moon alarm for me, please? It's disrupting my rest."
I opened my eyes to see Chito beside my bed, his fur-flecked hair in a wild disarray, his eyes bloodshot and heavy from lack of sleep.
Sympathy surged through me. My beta brother clearly hadn’t slept since his last shift, and I was only making things worse. I reached across and turned off the lunar phase tracker on my nightstand.
“Sorry, little wolf. I thought I was lost in the dreamlands.” My voice was softer now, almost apologetic. “Get some rest before the moon rises again.”
I rolled onto my other side, willing myself to sleep before tonight’s hunt, but my mind wouldn’t settle. Minutes of tossing and turning later, I surrendered and opened my eyes again. To my surprise, Chito hadn’t moved an inch. He still sat there, his wheelchair locked in place at the foot of my bed.
“Brother, why are you still here?” I sat up, rubbing my eyes. “Has that chair broken again?”
I leaned down to check, running my fingers along the smooth metal, testing the brakes. Everything looked fine. When I straightened, I caught sight of his face—and my stomach twisted. His eyebrows were knitted together, and silver-specked tear tracks stained his pale cheeks.
In one swift motion, I was down on my knees before him.
"What’s wrong? Is silver poisoning making a comeback? Do we need to call the pack healer?"
He shook his head. No words, just silence.
I exhaled sharply, scanning him for signs of illness, as the pack doctor had taught me. “Your wolfsbane injections. Where are they?”
His silence persisted, interrupted only by fresh tears rolling down his face.
My heart clenched. My beta brother rarely cried, and when he did, it felt like the whole pack was unraveling.
Ignoring the risks, I pulled him into a tight embrace. His body was fragile—trapped between human and wolf, never fully shifting—but holding him gave me hope that one day he might run free beneath the full moon.
"Don't go to the hunt!" His voice broke against my chest, trembling with something beyond fear.
I froze.
How did he know about tonight’s hunt?
I hadn’t told him anything about this mission—especially not the fact that it was the night after the full moon, the time he was most vulnerable. Then I remembered the alarm. The lunar tracker.
That’s how he knew.
“I have to go on this hunt,” I said gently. “The pack needs food. I swear by the moon, I won’t be gone long.”
Chito stiffened, his small hands clutching my arms like he could physically stop me.
I tilted his chin up, forcing him to meet my gaze. He was so thin, all razor angles and brittle bones. A lump formed in my throat.
Why did he have to suffer so much?
He who was pure and good.
Why did our Alpha mother have to die in that hunter’s snare, forcing me to guard the flock?
I was hardly an adult-sized wolf, yet the burdens of an Alpha had already settled onto my shoulders.
Chito’s amber eyes shimmered with sorrow. “You’re thinking about Mother, aren’t you?”
I sighed and brushed his damp cheeks. If only he knew. I needed to finish this hunt so he could undergo the ritual that might heal him.
But I couldn’t tell him that.
To him, I was just a simple wolf who taught the young ones how to speak the human language so they could blend in.
“Listen to me.” I forced a grin. “I’ll bring home the biggest deer, the fat kind with the heaps of marrow, the rich arteries running with blood. And those herbs you like. What do you say?” I nudged his ribs playfully.
He didn’t smile. “Mia, the song was a vision. You fall to hunters.”
His voice was thick with conviction.
A cold weight settled in my gut.
Then I laughed. Awkwardly.
“Me? Fall to hunters?” I shook my head. “Visions don’t always tell the truth, little wolf. They’re reminders that our spirits are in tune with the moon, nothing more.”
But even as I spoke, his words burrowed under my skin.
Chito was a seer. His visions had never been wrong before.
He wheeled himself out of my den without another word.
I sat frozen, unease coiling in my chest, before shaking it off.
There was an impatient Alpha from a neighboring territory waiting for results. And a rogue scientist who’d been experimenting on our kind to deal with.
I had no time for bad omens.
Pushing myself off the floor, I got dressed. Black shirt. Black jeans. Clothes that wouldn’t interfere with my partial shift. I considered braiding my hair but decided against it.
"Down it is," I muttered to my reflection in the silver-free mirror, grinning at my own fangs.
My red hair spilled past my waist, thick and unruly. Every moon cycle, it grew heavier—an undeniable sign of my strengthening wolf bloodline.
I strapped my silver-tipped darts into my boot sheaths. Weapons that could hurt our kind were necessary for hunting traitors within the pack.
Before leaving, my eyes landed on the moonstone bracelet Chito had made for me. It pulsed faintly with energy on my bedside table.
I slid it onto my wrist.
A quiet promise.
Stepping out, I walked past Chito’s door, pressing an ear against the wood. Silence.
I raised my fist to knock—then hesitated.
If he was finally resting, I wouldn’t wake him.
Shaking my head, I tiptoed downstairs and grabbed a bottle of wolfsbane-infused water from the kitchen. Just enough to mask my scent without making me weak.
Then I headed for the garage.
"Hello, Sheba."
My Harley Davidson waited, her orange headlight gleaming like a wolf’s eye in the dark.
I brushed a smudge off her frame, then patted her chassis. "Ready for another hunt?"
Her engine purred as I revved it up, the growl of an Alpha.
The second I rolled onto the street, my nosy neighbor, Mrs. Robinson, startled like a skittish rabbit.
“Farewell, Mrs. Robinson.” I smirked, slipping on my reflective sunglasses.
Sheba roared beneath me, kicking up dust as I tore down the road.
I cleared my head, opening my wolf senses. The elders had taught me to anticipate threats before they appeared.
A strange darkness clouded my vision.
No matter how I tried to shake it off, the feeling stuck, thick as tar.
Then I hit gridlock.
Cars were backed up, bumper to bumper.
"Come on, come on," I muttered, gripping the handlebars.
Movement to my left. A group of teens in an SUV, all gold chains, piercings, and tattoos.
One of them leaned out. “Hey, mamacita, ditch the bike and ride with me.”
The others howled in laughter.
I ignored them.
Then a deeper voice cut through.
“These pups bothering you?”
An older man from another car. The kind that thinks women need saving.
I ignored him too.
The light turned green.
I gunned the engine and surged for
ward—
Too late.
A truck barreled toward me.
I tried to brake—
Impact.
The last thing I thought was Chito’s warning.
"I saw a vision. You fall to hunters."
POV: NovaThe full moon was two nights away, but Nova felt its pressure long before it showed its face.Not in her bones—that part of her had dulled long ago—but in the eyes of the wolves who whispered in her presence, the weight of their glances, the shift in their posture when they realized she was no longer hiding. They didn’t question why she returned. They didn’t dare ask. The rumors had done their work, and now fear was walking quietly at her side.She stood at the edge of a forgotten watchtower deep in the southern glade, where the wind moved in slow, patient circles, and the trees leaned like they remembered. The stone beneath her boots was cracked, moss crawling through the seams. Above her, the sky churned in pale blue and steel gray, waiting for dusk.Behind her, Ressa paced with her arms folded, steps short and clipped with impatience.“The vote didn’t remove her,” Ressa said, not bothering to soften her voice. “She held the seat by two margins. Two.”Nova didn’t turn arou
POV: Mia (Zero)The hall hadn’t been this full since the night we buried the old Alpha.Wolves lined both sides of the stone floor—elders on the raised benches, commanders to the left, ranked scouts to the right. The rest stood wherever they could, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, voices lowered to murmurs. No howling. No weapons drawn. But the tension was thick enough to cut with a claw.I stood alone at the front.No armor. No cloak.Only my name.The council fire burned low at my back, throwing flickers of gold across the carved walls where stories of bloodlines past were etched in stone. The flames reached the base of Seran’s forgotten spiral, still half-covered from generations of silence. I wondered how many of them even recognized it anymore.Alex hadn’t come to the center with me. He stood just inside the archway, hands folded behind his back, unreadable, unshakable—but his eyes never left mine.I didn’t need him beside me to feel him standing with me.Elder Rhun called fo
POV: Mia (Zero)We returned to Darkhaven in silence.Not because there was nothing to say, but because the things we might have spoken aloud could not be taken back. The seal, the throne, the warnings—none of it was mystical. It was political. It was leverage. Nova had brought me to that place not to reveal power but to remind me that control was slipping, and she intended to catch it when it fell.Chito walked ahead with the scouts, his jaw tight, his usual calm replaced with something I had seen only once—when he stood over his sister’s body after the mountain ambush. Alex remained by my side, silent as I was, but not detached. His presence was steady, hands near his blade, eyes scanning even familiar trees like they might start whispering secrets.When we reached the gates, the first thing I saw was the firelight.Not chaos.Not war.Celebration.The main courtyard was lit with lanterns and low torches. Wolves laughed, drank, passed food around a central fire as though nothing had
POV: Mia (Zero)The sky changed as we crossed into the southern ridge.It wasn’t just the light that dimmed, or the color of the clouds—it was the weight in the air, a pressure behind the eyes and inside the bones, like something watching from beneath the roots of the earth itself. The scouts didn’t speak. Even Chito, who usually masked discomfort with grit or wisdom, held his silence as if afraid that words might draw something ancient closer.According to the fragments we found in the stone archive beneath the Cross Vale, this place had a name once: Narethin, which meant “the place where breath ends.” It was the last known location Seran had walked before disappearing from every bloodline record. Not a battlefield. Not a grave. Something older. A sanctum, maybe. Or a prison.I wasn’t sure which one I was walking into.Alex moved beside me, his blade sheathed but hand near the hilt. He hadn’t said much since the Sealed One’s refusal. The tension in him was different now. Not mistrust
POV: Mia (Zero)We left Darkhaven before the moon rose.Not as a war party.As seekers.Alex and Chito came with me, along with two scouts who had grown up on the edge of the ancient forests—wolves whose families whispered stories no one else remembered. We traveled light and fast, keeping to the ridgelines, moving beneath old branches thick with moss and silence. The air was colder here, though the season hadn’t shifted. The silence wasn’t natural. It was memory, held in the bones of the trees, passed down like breath from one root to the next.We were looking for the Sealed Ones.Or at least the place they might have vanished into.The old records, the half-burned books buried beneath Chito’s archives, had mentioned a place once known as the Cross Vale. A ravine swallowed by time and erosion, unreachable by patrol and avoided even by Hollow Fang scouts. It had been described not as a village, not a camp—but a silence. A place where voices forgot themselves.I thought it was poetic m
POV: Mia (Zero)The cloth in my hands was rough, thickened by ash and time, but the symbol burned through it with such intensity that it felt like it was still alive beneath my fingertips. The lines of the sigil were carved deep, not in ink but in something darker—dried blood, old and ancient, blackened at the edges like it had been scorched into the weave. At first, I thought it was another warning, another threat from the Hollow Fang or their gods, but Chito’s voice had carried certainty when he spoke.“It’s a name,” he had said, standing beside the embers of the ritual fire. “And not just a name. It’s the first.”I hadn’t responded then, too stunned by the weight of the revelation, too aware of the blood still drying beneath my fingernails and the echo of the altar’s destruction still pulsing in the soles of my boots. Now, back within the walls of Darkhaven, I sat in the long hall with the cloth stretched across the council table, the fire low behind me, and silence pressing in fro