Destinada a uno Rechazado

The moon chooses. The blood binds. The Trials begin.

The scream tore from Ava’s throat before she even saw the creature.

One second, she was stumbling down the gravel path that led home after her late shift at the bookstore. The next, her lungs were burning with cold night air, her ears ringing with an inhuman growl, and her heart pounding in chaos as something massive and fast lunged from the shadows.

She didn't have time to think. Only time to run.

But the wolf was faster.

It hit her from behind with the force of a truck, slamming her into the dirt. Her backpack snapped open, books scattering, her breath lost beneath the crushing weight of muscle and fur.

Its snout hovered above her neck. Hot breath. Yellow eyes. A snarl that vibrated against her spine.

She was going to die.

Except she didn’t.

A pulse surged from deep within her chest—an ancient kind of heat, like fire and moonlight had merged under her skin.

The wolf froze.

It whimpered.

And then it bolted—yelping as if burned, vanishing into the trees with a panicked howl.

Ava lay there, stunned, gasping, her limbs refusing to move.

That’s when she felt it—searing pain across her upper back, as if someone had branded her with molten silver. Her vision blurred. Her body convulsed. Then everything went black.

She woke up in her bedroom, drenched in sweat, her sheets tangled like she'd been in a war.

“Ava!” Her mother’s voice was thick with panic. “Don’t move!”

Clara Pierce, the woman who had raised her since infancy, hovered by her bedside holding a damp cloth and a trembling hand.

“What—happened?” Ava rasped, her voice raw.

“You were attacked.” Clara’s lips pressed into a grim line. “You barely made it home.”

“But the wolf… it ran. It didn’t bite me.”

Clara didn’t answer. Instead, she lifted the back of Ava’s loose tank top.

Ava saw her mother’s expression shift from worry to something else. Fear? Awe?

She scrambled to the mirror, turning to get a better look.

Etched into her skin was a shimmering silver crescent moon, glowing faintly at the base of her neck. It looked ancient. Alive. And wrong.

“What is this?” Ava whispered. “Is it… a burn?”

“No,” Clara said softly. “It’s a mark.”

An hour later, Clara sat across from her in the kitchen, gripping a chipped mug like it was her last tether to reality.

“There’s something I never told you,” she began. “Because I hoped… I prayed… it would never come to this.”

Ava waited, silent. The mark on her back still burned.

“You were adopted,” Clara said. “Dropped off at the hospital during a blood moon. No name. Just you—and a pendant wrapped in your blanket.”

She reached into a drawer, pulled out a tiny velvet box, and slid it across the table.

Ava opened it.

Inside was a silver pendant carved with runes she didn’t recognize. The shape matched the mark on her skin perfectly.

“You are not just human, Ava,” Clara said. “You’re Moon-Blessed. The only one born in this generation.”

The room spun.

“You knew? All this time?”

“I didn’t know. Not really. But I suspected. And now that the mark’s appeared… it means they’ll come for you.”

Ava’s heart skipped. “Who?”

Before Clara could answer, the front door exploded open.

A man stepped inside, tall and commanding, dressed in black. His eyes were silver, cold and unblinking, and when he looked at Ava, she felt it in her bones—the same fire that burned during the attack.

“I’m Xander Vale,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. “I’m here to protect you.”

Ava stood, fists clenched. “From what?”

He stepped forward, gaze fixed on the glowing mark.

“From the Alphas.”