Recce’s Rage

POV: Luther

The cup shattered in my hand.

Whiskey burned across my knuckles, slicing skin already raw. Amber spilled across reports and maps, bleeding over the border lines I’d drawn hours before I ruined everything.

You did ruin it, Recce snarled, pacing inside my chest. You stood before them and cut our mate loose. You betrayed us.

“I chose the pack,” I said to the empty room.

You chose fear, he snapped, claws raking bone. Their rules over our bond.

I reached for the bottle anyway. The whiskey bit, then went warm. It didn’t quiet him. It never did.

The office smelled of leather, wood, iron—and faintly, still, of her. Fading like the air itself was erasing her. I scrubbed a hand down my jaw until my teeth ached.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her in silk. Chin high. Eyes wide. Brave.

Then I saw her mouth form the words that finished what I’d begun: I accept.

Recce lunged at the memory, tearing it to pieces. We will make it right. Find her. Now.

I shoved back from the desk so hard the chair splintered against the wall. My boots hit stone. The corridor blurred past, torchlight streaking. By the time I hit the yard, dawn had bled pale into the trees.

“Alpha,” the gate sentry stammered, staring at my face—or maybe the blood on my hands.

“Border,” I ground out. “Now.”

We ran.

The forest whipped past—dark trunks, silver leaves. The ground was still wet from the night. Her trail—dirt, blood, silk thread—cut into the forest like a wound that wouldn’t close.

I dropped to a crouch, touching a scrap of white caught on bramble. Silk snagged on my fingertips.

“She left of her own will,” I said, but the words tasted like ash. The trail ended at the creek, water cold and fast. Smart girl. She’d known to break her scent.

The patrol leader caught up, breath steaming. “Alpha, if you give the word—”

“No.” It came out as a growl. “Stand down.”

His eyes flicked to the silk in my hand, then away. “Yes, Alpha.”

He didn’t ask why. He didn’t have to. Every warrior knew if I pushed now, the elders would make a sport of it—and she wouldn’t survive being their quarry.

You’re letting her go, Recce raked me bloody.

“I’m keeping them off her,” I hissed, shoving back through the trees before I started a war inside my own walls.

---

By noon I had bled the training yard until even the sand looked tired.

“Again,” I told the warrior across from me.

He hesitated, sweat streaking his face. “Alpha—”

“Again.”

We clashed. Blades sang. Every strike landed with the memory of an elder’s smirk, my father’s nod, the hall roaring while she walked out alone.

Recce wanted to tear something that screamed.

The warrior fell wrong. His shoulder popped out of place with a crack that sliced through the haze. He cried out. Silence fell.

I stared at him too long, chest heaving, hands shaking.

“Get the healer,” I said flatly.

The Beta stepped onto the sand, face grim. “Enough.”

“No.”

“Enough,” he repeated, low. “You’re not punishing us—you’re punishing yourself. The yard isn’t where you bleed that out.”

He’s right, Recce snarled. Find a real fight.

I flung the practice blade down so hard the hilt split. The watching warriors stared at their boots.

The Beta exhaled. “You won’t keep them from talking.”

“They can talk,” I said. “They’ll keep their hands still.”

He didn’t argue. Just inclined his head, careful. “Council meets at dusk.”

“Of course they do.”

---

The council chamber stank of old decisions.

Elders in pressed robes. Silver cups. Ink and wax. My father at the head of the table, dynasty across his shoulders.

My mother sat opposite him, still as stone, hands folded in her lap. She had said little since the coronation, her silence colder than any reprimand.

“We’ve scheduled the Luna trials,” the eldest said as if announcing rain. “Invitations have gone out. Present the candidates in a week.”

The word candidates landed like rot.

Try to mark one, Recce sneered. See how long she lives.

“No parade,” I said.

Thin smiles. “Of course,” meaning we’ll do as we like.

“The border patrol reports… an absence,” another prodded.

“There will be no search.”

“You cannot know she is safe,” a third pressed.

“I know what happens if you find her.” My voice dropped to steel. “And it ends with your blood on my floor.”

My father’s ring scraped the table. Warning. Pride. I didn’t care which.

Mother’s gaze lifted then, sharp and steady. She didn’t speak—she didn’t have to. Her look cut deeper than words: You are breaking what the Goddess gave you, boy. And you know it.

“We’re done,” I said, standing before anyone could pretend I wasn’t.

---

Night crawled. Whiskey dulled nothing. Training shredded my hands raw. Sleep came only in scraps, always with the same dream: cedar and dust, her breath at my throat, the word mine tearing out of me.

Every waking felt like falling down stone steps I’d built myself.

On the third night, a delegation arrived earlier than the invitations could reach them—an allied Alpha and his daughter, Rhea.

Her eyes were sharpened ice, her smile honeyed ambition.

“Alpha Luther,” she purred.

“Rhea.”

Her father’s laugh salted the air. “Word travels fast. Perhaps we can… expedite your trials.”

No, Recce snapped. No trials. No one but her.

Out loud, I said, “I train at dawn. If you want to see Red Moon’s strength, meet me there.”

Three days. That’s how long they lasted.

On the fourth, Rhea cut across the yard after drills, perfume and intent thick as smoke. She tilted her chin, baring her throat. “Take me.”

Recce surged, snapping tight. Touch her and I tear it out. Then I take the head that sent her.

I braced my hand against the rail behind her so I wouldn’t close it on her neck. Her eyes glittered with triumph she hadn’t earned.

I ripped the rail free instead. The wood splintered in my hand.

“Get. Out.” My voice wasn’t human.

She ran.

The Beta came slowly, carefully. “I’ll double the watch on the elders’ rooms.”

“Do it.”

“And if they ask why?”

“Tell them it’s for their safety.”

He didn’t smile.

---

The ninth night, rain came.

I stood on the roof and let it wash me raw. Recce finally lay down, though his ears stayed pricked.

Behind me, a door creaked open. Mother’s voice carried through the storm.

“You’re killing yourself with silence.”

I didn’t turn. “Better than killing her with disobedience.”

She stepped closer, skirts soaked, hair plastered to her temples. “The Goddess does not give lightly. If you believe She gave you that girl, that bond—then She will not forgive you for throwing it away.”

I clenched the rail until it groaned. “The pack would have torn her apart.”

“Then you should have torn the pack apart first.”

Her words lodged deep, dangerous. I said nothing.

When I finally looked back, she was already gone, her shadow swallowed by the hall’s doorway.

---

I went inside soaked to the bone. For the first time, I didn’t reach for whiskey. I reached for maps. Routes through human cities. Names of wolves who kept their heads down. Safe houses even the elders didn’t know we had.

If they wanted a Luna chosen for bloodlines, they should never have taught me how to win one.

I bent over the desk, dripping, and started to plan.

Recce’s voice rumbled low and certain: Good. Build. Sharpen. When we find her, no one touches her without bleeding for it.

I marked the last line, knuckles white on the table’s edge.

“Hold on,” I whispered into the storm. “Wherever you are—hold on.”

No answer came.

But rage finally had a direction. And for the first time since I’d cut her loose, that felt like something I could use.