LOGINDuke Raven’s father was the Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack and the strongest among other alphas of the neighboring packs. He was feared, yet respected. With such a great father, everyone became expectant of Duke’s might but he failed them. Duke was weak. Too weak, that when compared to an average human, he’s only a tad stronger. Due to this, Duke was bullied. But things changed when something happened that caused Duke’s dormant power to awaken. However, Duke hid it away. He hid his power from everyone and only acted in the shadows. As so, he earned the name “Grim Reaper”, a vicious rogue wolf that cruelly kills. Duke thought that he could keep his second identity hidden forever, but he was wrong. Someone accidentally figured him out. An omega woman from their pack named Elle. Will Duke dirty his hands with the blood of an innocent girl? Or will he stick to his promise of only killing to protect his siblings? He needs to decide. And he has to, now!
View MoreA Rogue. A Rogue is a werewolf without a pack. They often kill any werewolf they encounter; may it be a member of a pack or a similar rogue, like them. They are vicious plunderers. And that same vicious plunderer is right in front of me, deviously smiling. “Others cannot dodge my attack so easily like that. You’re quite good, pup.” He praised me, but I don’t feel good that he did so at all. I’m scared. “W-who are you, Mister?” I tried to sound brave, but aside from stuttering, my voice also cracked. ““W-who are you, Mister?” Nye-nye. Are you kidding me pup? You already know who I am.” He told me, even copying my cracked voice just to spite me. “Isn’t that why you’re already in a fighting stance?” He’s right. Being unguarded around a rogue would cost me my life. I need to be ready to fight back if I want to live. “I… I belong to the Blood Moon Pack, Mister. You will only regret this.”
Duke's Viewpoint {Flashback} “Uhmm… Duke?” I heard someone call me from behind. I looked around to see who it was. “You’re…” I tried to remember his name but sadly, I cannot. It is the first time he came and approached me after all. “Uhm, yes?” I asked. “Earlier…” He said, looking so hesitant to speak. Earlier? Now that I remembered. He’s the one who spoke something about my eyes after Grey left and before Mrs. Campbell arrived. I stood and fully faced him. I noticed how he took one step back so; I did not come closer anymore. I know why he’s scared anyways. Getting caught while talking to me will earn him Grey’s wrath and be his next target. And it’s not only him who doesn’t want that. Everyone as well. This explains why I’m unaware of his name or any of my classmates’ names to be precise “Yeah, about earlier. What were you trying to say about my
Third Person’s Viewpoint Crimson Hunt. An annual hunting event to celebrate the foundation of the Blood Moon Pack. It is also a celebration of the Blood Moon Goddess’s bestowed blessings, whom the pack took the name from. But aside from those aforementioned reasons, Crimson Hunt is also an event for maintaining the nature of werewolves: Hunting. Hundreds of years ago, werewolves feasted on humans and animals to survive. But due to the changes in the world, werewolves, who have now integrated into modern life, had already stopped this way of survival. They’ve learned to work to earn money, use the earned money to buy meat, and then cook the meat for food. Eventually, the integration into human society was a huge success. However, as a result, their ancestor’s way of living had slowly been forgotten. As such, in order to not forget their nature and their culture, this annual hunting event is comme
My father and I were not talking to each other after that day. And I was avoiding him, too. Not because I was afraid of him, but because I was still mad about what happened. I just don’t understand him. “Duke?” One of the housemaids named Susan called me. I turned to her. “Uh?” “Your milk’s about to spill, honey.” She warned, pertaining to the milk I am pouring on my cereal. I looked at my bowl; the milk is almost near its mouth. I quickly stopped pouring the carton of milk before it spills all over the table. If Father was present, I would have been scolded already. “Thank you, Nana Susan.” She gave me a small smile and took an extra bowl from the cupboard above me. She then took my bowl of cereal and transferred the excess milk to the other bowl she got. “You seem to have a lot in mind. What does someone your age think so deeply this early in the morning?” She carefully asked me. I fell silent. Then I looked at her. “Nana Sus






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