Twenty-Five Years Later

The Blood Moon Pack has grown into a sprawling empire. The main packhouse—a fortress of stone and steel surrounded by endless forests. Large packhouses were strategically located within an hours run apart from each other. At each location there were training grounds, and warrior camps. The air hummed with power, the scent of dominance woven into every corner.

Alpha Raul stood at the balcony of his private chambers, surveying the land he had conquered. Dozens of packs had bent to his will over the years. His name was spoken in fear across the nation.

But fear was no longer enough.

At fifty-five, Raul’s hunger had evolved. Land and submission were not enough. He wanted time. Endless time. Immortality.

His wolf paced inside him, restless, claws scraping against the cage of his control. We are strong. We are eternal. Find a way. Make it so.

Raul’s amber eyes narrowed as he watched warriors sparring below. He had built an empire of blood and iron, yet the thought of mortality gnawed at him like a disease. He had daughters now—four of them. Beautiful, fierce, and unclaimed. The Moon Goddess he once believed had cursed him by never giving him a son. But now, he thought, it might work to his advantage to have all these daughters.

Mia, the eldest, was twenty-five. Lily, Oleander and Fox all followed in age. Each one had a weapon Raul intended to wield. He had refused to train Mia as heir—why prepare for succession when he planned to rule forever? Instead, he envisioned a new strategy; chosen mate bonds. One daughter for each of the four surrounding packs. Each bond a key to infiltration, a silent blade to gut the enemy from within.

But there was a problem. Chosen mate bonds could not be forced. Or so tradition claimed.

He turned from the balcony, his gaze sweeping the room. It had changed since Sarah’s arrival twenty-five years ago. Plants lined the windowsills, their leaves glistening with dew. Bowls filled with sticks and herbs sat in corners, incense curling through the air like whispers. Symbols etched into wood near doorways glimmered faintly in the light. Raul frowned. He inhaled the faint scent of rosemary and smoke, his wolf growled low.

Odd. Always odd since she came.

Magic, his wolf hissed. Something stirs here.

Raul dismissed the thought with a sharp shake of his head. He didn’t believe in witchcraft. He believed in strength, in blood, in dominance. Whatever Sarah burned in her bowls was nothing compared to the power he sought.

Immortality. That was the prize. And he would have it.

Sarah’s Perspective

Sarah stood in the Packhouse garden, hands buried in the soil as she planted winter herbs. Her silver-gray eyes lifted to the horizon, where the training grounds stretched like scars across the land. Raul’s empire. Raul’s obsession.

She had watched him change over the years—watched hunger twist into something darker. He had conquered dozens of packs over the years at the loss of hundreds of lives. His territory expanded beyond imagination. But peace had never come. Raul’s wolf is never satisfied.

And now, immortality.

Sarah’s fingers tightened around the roots of a plant. He refuses to train Mia. My daughter—the rightful heir by blood. He would rather gamble with her life than prepare her for leadership. He would rather bind her to strangers than trust her strength.

Her heart ached, but her resolve hardened. She had endured Raul’s dominance for twenty-five years. She had played the role of Luna, silent and strategic. But she had never stopped weaving her own threads of power.

The Omegas she brought from the former Silver Crescent Moon Pack were loyal to her and her alone. The healer she appointed was more than a medic—she was a keeper of old ways. And the symbols Raul dismissed as decoration? They were wards. Protection. Quiet strength in a house built on conquest.

Sarah brushed soil from her hands, her gaze cold as frost. If Raul thinks he can use my daughters as pawns, he will learn what it means to underestimate a Luna. A Luna who was trained to think like an Alpha first.

Raul’s Obsession

Night fell, and Raul sat in his private study, maps spread across the table. His fingers traced the borders of four pack—territories that had eluded him for decades. Each one led by an Alpha. And each Alpha had an heir that was strong, and unmated training to take over as the next generation of leadership.

He imagined his daughters bound to those heirs. Their bonds a leash Raul could pull. He imagined the packs falling, one by one, until his empire stretched beyond a size and strength that could be taken down by any outside force.

But immortality was the true prize. And Raul had begun to seek it in whispers and shadows. Old texts. Forbidden rites. Secrets buried in blood.

His wolf prowled, snarling in his mind. Find it. Take it. Live forever.

Raul’s lips curved into a smile that held no warmth. “Soon,” he murmured. “Soon, they will all bow.”