Chapter 11: The echo of blood and moon

The wind howled over the Silver Moon Pack House, rattling the high windows of the Alpha floor. The scent of winter had grown sharp and biting overnight — a hunter’s cold. Snow drifted in slow spirals outside the glass, peaceful at first glance.
Inside, there was no peace.
Rex stood in the center of the Alpha’s office, fists clenched tight enough his knuckles blanched white. His golden-brown hair hung disheveled across his forehead, chest still rising hard from the morning’s run. Lila Silver stood near the window, arms crossed, lips drawn tight. Alpha Cole paced — steps clipped, controlled rage simmering beneath his skin.
“She’s gone,” Cole growled, voice like gravel dragged across metal.
Gone.
The word seemed to hang in the room, suspended and heavy.
Jayson stood near the door, jaw tight, eyes dark, as though he couldn’t quite understand how something so small had slipped past them.
“Search patterns covered the entire eastern border,” Jayson reported. “No tracks leading past the river, no scent trails. It’s like she vanished.”
Cole slammed his hand down on his desk. Papers scattered.
“She didn’t vanish. Someone helped her.”
Rex didn’t move. His expression stayed unreadable, frozen stone. But his wolf snarled beneath his skin, pacing, restless.
Lila turned her gaze to her son — soft, calculating, concerned only for what affected him.
“Rex. You rejected her. Why does it bother you now?”
Rex’s jaw flexed once.
A muscle jumped in his cheek.
He didn’t answer.
He couldn’t.
Because he didn’t know.
Because her scent — rain and pine and storm-wet air — still clung to him.
Because the rejection had felt like tearing his own ribs apart.
Because he had expected her to break, not run.
Because he had always believed she would stay.
Rex’s voice was low, rough. “She was pack property.”
Jayson stiffened, eyes flicking to him — something like discomfort in his expression.
Cole didn’t hesitate. “Then we retrieve her.”
Mila, sitting quietly in the corner with a book no one believed she was reading, spoke at last. “Do we have to? She never—”
“Mila,” Lila warned sharply.
Mila’s mouth snapped shut.
Cole’s gaze hardened. “She knows too much. And if her wolf finally emerged—”
“It did,” Jayson murmured.
Everyone looked at him.
Jayson swallowed. “I saw it in her eyes when she ran. Her wolf was awake.”
Silence stretched.
Then Cole’s voice dropped to something cold.
Final.
Absolute.
“Then we do not retrieve her.”
Rex’s head lifted sharply.
Cole met his eyes. “We hunt her.”
Night Fang Territory
Meanwhile—
Snowflakes drifted softly through the canopy of evergreens, catching sunlight like falling stars. The world smelled clean here — richer, fuller, alive. Alex walked the narrow path through the pinewoods just beyond the training grounds, breath visible in the crisp air.
Aeron walked beside her — not leading, not guarding — accompanying.
“Your stride has changed,” he noted.
Alex glanced at him. “Changed how?”
“Purposeful. Not cautious. You’re not bracing anymore.”
Alex blinked.
She hadn’t realized.
Her wolf preened, tail flicking with quiet pride.
We walk the world now, not crawl through it.
Aeron paused and nodded toward a clearing surrounded by stones, ancient and overgrown. Vines wound over crumbled markings — not random. Deliberate. Written.
“Before training continues,” Aeron said softly, “you should see this.”
Alex stepped forward, brushing snow away from the stone’s carved surface.
A symbol emerged — a crescent moon with three lines descending beneath it.
Alex’s breath hitched.
“I know this symbol…”
“You should.” Aeron’s voice held no hesitation. Only truth. “It is the Blood Moon Alpha crest.”
Her heartbeat stumbled.
“My pack.”
“Yes.”
Aeron crouched beside her. “Your mother was born of the Blood Moon Alpha line — pure lunar blood. Your father was her fated mate. Their bond was rare. Powerful.”
Alex swallowed hard. “Then why— why was my pack attacked?”
Aeron’s eyes darkened. “Because power frightens the greedy. The Blood Moon Pack was loyal to the Moon Goddess herself. They were protectors, healers of the old way.”
“Old way?” Alex whispered.
“The way of balance. Of purpose. Of the sacred bond between wolf and moon. Many packs abandoned those teachings for strength through dominance.”
Alex closed her eyes — flashes of memory stirring.
Her mother’s laugh.
Her father’s scent.
Her brother’s tiny hands clinging to her blanket.
She inhaled sharply, eyes flying open.
“I remember him.”
Aeron stilled.
“Your brother,” he said gently.
Alex nodded. “Marcus.”
The name felt right.
Like a key sliding into place.
“He’s alive,” Aeron confirmed. “We have records — your grandparents took him in. Hidden. Protected.”
Alex’s hands trembled — not from fear.
From hope so intense it hurt.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” she whispered.
Aeron’s voice softened like snowfall.
“Because they needed to find you first.”
Far Away — But Not Far Enough
Under a winter sky the color of pale frost, Marcus Silverwood — no last name of Moon, not anymore — stood on the balcony of his grandparents’ estate. His hair was the same deep black as Alex’s, his wolf scent sharp pine and cold river stone.
He gripped the railing suddenly — breath short.
His grandmother stepped out beside him. “Marcus? What is it?”
Marcus’s throat worked. His wolf surged upward — urgent, wild, certain.
“Her.”
His grandmother froze.
“Alex,” Marcus whispered, voice cracking. “She’s alive.”
The wind carried the echo of a howl none of them could hear — yet.
The Moon Goddess does not forget her chosen.
Back in Night Fang
Alex sat in the snow, breathing uneven.
“She’s alive,” she whispered. “He’s alive. And my pack was—”
“Destroyed because of what you are,” Aeron finished, sitting beside her. “Not weak. Not omega.”
Alex’s eyes lifted to his.
“Alpha.”
The word didn’t feel foreign anymore.
It felt like the truth.
Aeron nodded, voice firm now — not gentle, not soft — steady.
“The kind of Alpha who does not rule by fear, but by balance. By wisdom. By strength rooted in compassion.”
Alex’s throat tightened. “But I don’t know how to lead.”
Aeron’s expression didn’t change.
No pity.
No hesitation.
“You will.”
Alex swallowed, voice barely a breath.
“How do you know?”
Aeron’s wolf brushed hers — not touching, not claiming — simply recognizing.
“Because the moment you stop trying to survive,” he said softly, “you begin to become who you were born to be.”
Alex stared at him — and for the first time in her life, she saw herself clearly reflected.
Not broken.
Not forgotten.
Not lost.
Becoming.
Rising.
Healing.
Her wolf’s voice was steady as a heartbeat:
We are not done.
A cold wind moved through the trees.
A distant howl answered.
Silver Moon was coming.
And Alex — for the first time ever — was not afraid.