He built an empire by blood, she's going to tear it down

Alpha Raul was carved from hunger—land, power, submission. His ambition burned hotter than loyalty to the Moon Goddess, and many whispered She spared every she-wolf the torment of being fated to him. At thirty, he remained unmated, arrogant enough to claim it was by choice. Brutal enough that no one dared suggest otherwise.

His rise was written in blood. Small packs fell beneath the storm of his Blood Moon warriors—merciless, precise, unstoppable. When Raul set his sights on the Silver Crescent Moon Pack, the outcome seemed inevitable.

Until Sarah stepped forward.

She moved through the snow with defiance, emerald cloak sweeping behind her, fur-lined hood pushed back to reveal a cascade of chestnut waves glinting copper beneath the pale winter sun. Her silver-gray eyes caught his like moonlight on steel—luminous, unyielding. Raul’s wolf stirred, prowling beneath his skin, restless and hungry. His pulse spiked—a rare thing for him.

Alpha-blooded, he thought, taking in the proud tilt of her chin, the squared shoulders, the way she masked fear with regal grace. At 5'11 taller than most she-wolves. Strong. Not fragile like the others of her pack. And that scent… jasmine and frost. Wild and cold. A contradiction I want to break.

His wolf snarled in approval, pressing against the edges of his control. Mine. She’ll be mine. Claim her. Tear down her walls. Make her bow.

Sarah’s heart thundered as she closed the distance. Every step felt like walking into fire. I am the only child of Alpha Ryan and Luna Lynn. The rightful heir to the Silver Crescent Moon Pack. I trained to lead, not surrender. But if I falter now, they will die. Father dies. Mother dies from heartbreak if not in battle. Many pack members will be slaughtered.

She forced her chin higher, even as fear clawed at her ribs. I can’t let that happen. I won’t.

“You’ll take me instead,” Sarah said, her voice steady though her heart thundered.

Raul’s lips curved slowly, dangerously. “You think I came here for a bride?” His voice was a blade—smooth, lethal.

Bold little wolf. Offering herself like a pawn. Does she think I’ll spare her pack for a warm body? Or is she clever enough to know what power tastes like?

“I think you came here for power,” she countered, lifting her chin. “And I’m offering you both.”

His amber eyes burned, wolf close to the surface. “You’d bind yourself to me willingly?”

Willingly? No. I can smell the fear under her skin. But she hides it well. Better than most Alphas I’ve killed.

“If it spares my pack,” she whispered, forcing steel into her tone. “No blood. No war. Just… me.”

Raul stepped closer. His gaze swept her again—those silver-gray eyes, the crescent mark at her throat, the quiet fire in her stance. His wolf pressed harder, claws raking at his control. She bargains like an Alpha. And she’s beautiful enough to make the Goddess jealous. Mine. She’ll be mine.

“You bargain like an Alpha,” he murmured, his breath ghosting her cheek. “But you’re not mine yet.”

Not yet. But soon. And when I claim you, little wolf, you’ll learn peace is a lie.

Sarah swallowed hard, meeting his gaze. “Then claim me. And leave them in peace.”

His laugh was low, dark, curling around her like smoke. “Peace, little wolf? You have no idea what you’ve just offered.”

Her sacrifice ended the threat of war… but condemned her to a bond born not of the Moon Goddess, but of necessity and fear.

What Raul did not know—what no one knew—was that by taking her, he had not only gained a Luna.

He had underestimated a pack whose strength ran deeper than numbers.

The Arrival

The Blood Moon Packhouse loomed like a fortress against the winter sky—stone walls rising high, flanked by towering pines that whispered in the wind. Warriors lined the steps, eyes sharp, posture rigid. Behind them stood the Omegas, heads bowed as Sarah approached.

She walked with her chin high, every step deliberate, though her heart thundered like a war drum.

She had arrived without her parents or the former leadership team—they remained behind in what was now the latest territory expansion of the Blood Moon Pack. She couldn’t bear the sadness in their eyes, the weight of her sacrifice. Instead, she came with the pack’s lead healer and thirteen Omegas, weaving the remnants of Silver Crescent into this new, hostile world.

The massive doors opened. Raul stood waiting. Alpha Raul—thirty years old, towering at 6’7”, shoulders broad as war itself, amber eyes burning like molten gold. His presence was a storm—raw, commanding, dangerous. His wolf prowled beneath his skin, restless, claws scraping at the edges of his control.

Ten years my senior. Eight inches taller. And values miles apart. He’s undeniably good-looking, but that doesn’t make this easier. What have I gotten myself into?

Mine, the wolf snarled. She’s mine. Claim her. Mark her. Break her.

Raul’s gaze swept her from head to toe, lingering on the proud tilt of her chin, the squared shoulders, the crescent mark at her throat. His lips curved slowly, dangerously.

He stepped closer, the ground seeming to tremble beneath his boots. His wolf pressed harder, snarling in his mind. Take her. Now.

The Mating and Marking

The ceremony was brief—Raul didn’t care for rituals. He cared for dominance. For possession. For the primal satisfaction of taking what was his.  

Immediately after her arrival he pulled Sarah into his chambers, the heavy door slamming shut behind them. The room smelled of cedar and smoke, shadows dancing across stone walls. Raul’s hands were rough as they gripped her cloak, tearing it from her shoulders. His mouth claimed hers with brutal hunger, not tenderness—his kiss was a conquest, not a promise.

Sarah’s breath hitched, her body rigid as his heat pressed against her. I trained for leadership, not this. I was meant to command, not submit. But if this is the price of peace… I will endure it. For them. There was nothing tender or loving about this. Sarah didn’t mention to him that she was a virgin. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being her first and only sexual experience.

Raul’s wolf surged forward, his teeth grazing her throat before sinking into flesh. The mark burned like fire, searing through her veins—a bond forged in dominance, not destiny. She bit back a cry, nails digging into his shoulders as the mating completed.

When it was over, Raul stood over her, chest heaving, eyes glowing amber. “Mine,” he growled, satisfaction curling his lips.

Sarah swallowed hard, forcing her voice steady. “And my pack?”

“They live,” Raul said simply, already turning away. His wolf purred in triumph. She’s ours. Bound. No one will take her now.

The Quiet Changes

Days passed. Sarah moved swiftly, silently. She relocated every Omega from Silver Crescent Moon into the Blood Moon Packhouse, weaving them into the household staff. She appointed her Crescent Moon healer as head healer—a decision Raul barely noticed.

But Raul did notice other things. Small things. Small crystals in a wood bowl now kept on or near the stove in the main kitchen of the packhouse. Additional plants throughout the pack house. Horseshoes over the doors, bells on doorknobs, and tiny bowls with salt placed in windows.  Incense curling through the air, symbols burned into smooth flat wood surfaces. Strange markings etched into wood near doorways.

He frowned once, then dismissed it. Luna’s quirks, he thought. As long as she keeps the pack strong, I don’t care what she burns.

But the air felt different. Warmer. Charged. And Raul’s wolf, for all its hunger, growled low in the shadows of his mind.