THE BROKEN LUNA 

Yana nodded quickly and wiped her nose with the back of her small hand.

“You have to listen to me, Mom,” she said, her voice suddenly urgent. “Before those men took me from the hospital, I saw the letters Grandma Helen was hiding.”

Valkira's expression changed.

“Debt collectors,” Yana continued. “Bad men from the packs. They're going to Grandma's shop at any moment. She doesn't have enough money to pay them.”

Valkira's face turned cold.

“Where is the shop?”

“The old Crescent Pack territory,” Yana said. “The small shop at the bottom of the hill, near the edge of the Forbidden Forest.”

Valkira stood, pulling Yana up with her.

The warmth in her eyes disappeared. It was replaced by a cold, deadly anger.

“Chris,” she ordered. “Get in. Drive.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They drove through the dark mainland roads for three hours.

Valkira sat quietly in the back seat, holding Yana's small hand. The girl never let go.

The mountain road climbed higher into the hills, twisting through thick forest. Ancient trees leaned over the black road like silent guards.

They passed a broken iron gate. A rusted sign above it read:

CRESCENT PACK TERRITORY

The letters were faded and almost impossible to read.

Valkira stared through the cracked window.

High on the hillside stood her old Pack House.

It was completely dark.

The once grand wooden roof had collapsed after a fire. Thick weeds grew through the broken windows, and the massive oak doors hung crooked from their hinges.

Valkira stared at the ruined house in silence.

This had once been her home.

“Your grandfather lived there,” Valkira whispered to Yana, her eyes fixed on the ruined house. “He was a powerful Alpha.”

Yana said nothing. She only moved closer and pressed her small shoulder against Valkira's side.

At the bottom of the hill, a small, run-down shop stood alone beside the trees.

Green paint peeled from the wooden walls. A rusted sign above the door read:

HELEN'S SUPPLIES

A weak light flickered behind the front window.

Valkira's chest tightened.

She remembered her mother, Luna Helen, as she had been five years ago.

The supreme female leader of the Crescent Pack had been tall, strong, and beautiful. She wore fine silk and gold jewelry and commanded the respect of every Alpha in the territory.

But the woman standing outside the shop now was barely recognizable.

Helen wore a faded, torn gray dress. Her hair was thin and completely gray, and years of hard work had left her back bent.

She stood at the shop entrance, arguing with a stubborn customer over a few coins.

Valkira stared at her mother.

For five years, she had believed Helen was gone.

But she was still her, and she was suffering.

Valkira pressed her scarred palm against the car window. She couldn't take her eyes off her mother.

“Stop here.” She ordered. 

Chris pulled the car over behind a broken wooden cart.

Valkira turned to her Beta. “Chris, you are with me. Yana, you stay in the back.”

Yana grabbed her sleeve.“I can help you fight, Mom.”

Valkira looked down at her.

​“No. Not yet.” Her voice was gentle, but firm. “Hide in the back seat. We will handle this.”

Before Valkira and Chris could step out of the car, a group of rogue werewolves marched into the dirt square.

There were seven of them.

They were huge, scarred men wearing thick leather vests and heavy iron chains. A red patch marked each of their shoulders.

The Bloodmoon Pack.

Valkira's hand tightened around the car door handle until the plastic creaked beneath her grip.

The leader was a tall, broad man with a shaved head. He walked straight toward Helen's shop.

Without saying a word, he raised his heavy boot and kicked the wooden door open.

CRACK!

The door slammed against the wall.

“Repayment day, old woman!” the leader shouted, his voice echoing across the quiet square. “Do you have our money?”

The nearby shopkeepers stopped what they were doing. They watched from a safe distance, whispering behind their stalls.

Some shook their heads. Others laughed.

“Look at the great Luna now,” a butcher said with a cruel smile. “Begging for a few coins in the dirt.”

“Pathetic,” another shopkeeper added. “The Crescent Pack is nothing but an old story now.”

Valkira's jaw tightened, but she stayed hidden in the shadows of the car beside Chris, watching every move.

Luna Helen stepped backward into her shop. Her thin hands shook as she reached into her apron and pulled out a small leather pouch.

“This is all the gold I have,” Helen said, her voice trembling. “Fifty coins. Please, take it. It's everything I made this month.”

The rogue leader snatched the pouch from her hand and opened it.

When he saw the coins inside, he laughed.

“Fifty coins?” he shouted. He stepped closer to Helen. “Your shop owes six hundred coins for the border tax. This is nothing.”

“I'll get the rest,” Helen pleaded. “Please. Give me two more weeks.”

The leader's smile disappeared.

“Time is money, old woman.”

He threw the pouch into the dirt, the strings broke, and the gold coins spilled across the muddy ground.

“Trash the shop,” he ordered.

The six rogues moved at once.

They knocked over wooden shelves, smashed jars of preserved food, and broke the front windows with their fists. Flour, food, and tools spilled across the floor.

Helen cried out and rushed to protect what little she had left.

“No! Please, stop! That's all the food we have!”

The leader grabbed her thin arm and shoved her aside.

Helen fell hard. Her forehead struck the sharp edge of the wooden counter.

Valkira's hand closed around her hunting knife. Her wolf stirred beneath her skin, ready to break free. Beside her, Chris silently drew his twin blades, his eyes locked on the rogues' blind spots. 

Then the back door of the car flew open, and Yana jumped out. 

“Yana!” Valkira's shout came too late.

The little girl ran across the dirt square and stopped between the rogues and Helen's shop.

She planted her small feet firmly on the ground and faced the seven men.

Valkira's heart stopped.

Yana was standing alone between her grandmother and seven Bloodmoon rogues.

“Stop it!” Yana shouted, clenching her little fists. “Leave my grandmother alone!”

The six rogues stopped smashing the shelves. They turned around slowly, grinning at the sight of the child.

Helen looked up from the floor, her face turning pale as blood began to trickle down her forehead.

“Yana! No!” she cried. “Run! Get out of here!”

But Yana didn't move.

She stood her ground firmly in front of the shop, blocking the doorway with her small body.

“My mother is back!” she shouted. “She's powerful, and she'll make you pay for hurting my family!”

The rogues stared at Yana for a moment, then they burst into cruel laughter.

The shaved-headed leader stepped toward her. He was twice her size, and his shadow covered her completely.

He leaned close, his foul breath washing over her face.

“Your mother drowned in the deep sea five years ago, little pup,” he sneered. “You're waiting for a dead ghost to save you. That's pathetic.”

Helen tried to crawl toward Yana, but the leader shoved her back into the dirt.

His men laughed as Helen struggled to get up.

Then he raised his thick hand, ready to strike Yana across the face.

The crowd gasped, many turning their eyes away to avoid the scene.

Before the leader's hand could drop, Chris stepped from the shadows. With a swift flick of his wrist, he hurled one of his hunting knives. The blade spun through the air and slammed into the wooden doorframe just an inch from the leader's thick skull.

​The rogue froze.

Then a cold sharp voice cut through the square.

“Who says I'm dead?”