Heir of the Blood Moon

Heavy rain hammered the corrugated iron roof of the old warehouse, creating a deafening racket. Tonight’s sky was pitch black, starless, as if the universe were closing its eyes to the atrocities unfolding beneath it.

Rakar stood before the rusty steel door marked 'RESTRICTED AREA'.

His breathing was ragged. Not from exhaustion, but from the murderous rage he was barely containing. The blood bond of an Alpha to his offspring was stronger than any technology. Rakar felt Ardan’s fear like a compass pointing straight into this hell. He had followed that panic signal across half the city, abandoning his car on the roadside without a second thought.

His nostrils flared, sifting through the thousands of scents carried on the storm wind. Amidst the smells of rust and spent oil, he focused on two aromas that were the center of his world.

Vanilla and Orange—the distinctive scent of Revira’s usual shampoo.

And strawberry chewing gum. The sweet smell that always clung to Ardan’s breath and clothes. The cologne he had bought for Ardan just last week while at the mall with Revira.

Rakar knew they had to be inside, and they were terrified.

"Found you," Rakar snarled. His voice was low, vibrating in his throat.

He didn't knock. He didn't look for a ventilation shaft.

Rakar took a step back, rotated his shoulder, and delivered a straight kick aimed precisely at the door’s hinges.

*CRASH!*

The two-inch thick steel door didn't open; Rakar forcibly tore it from its frame. The metal shrieked as it crumpled inward, flying across the dark corridor and slamming into the opposite wall with a satisfying boom.

Concrete dust billowed. Rakar stepped inside, crushing the door’s wreckage under his heavy leather boots.

"Who in the he—"

A hired guard appeared from around the corner, his face startled, his pistol only halfway raised.

Rakar didn't slow down. He moved faster than a human blink. His right hand snatched the pistol barrel, his left hand clamped onto the man’s throat.

*CRACK.*

The pistol crumpled in Rakar’s grip.

"Sleep," Rakar whispered coldly.

*THUD.*

The man was slammed into the concrete wall, unconscious before his brain could register that his weapon was now junk.

Rakar tossed the limp body aside like garbage. He kept walking. His eyes—which were now beginning to glow yellow in the dark corridor—locked onto a set of double doors at the far end.

He could hear heartbeats from behind those doors. Three adult heartbeats. One small heartbeat racing far too fast.

Rakar kicked the double doors wide open.

*BLAM!*

The sight inside instantly made his blood boil, turning his vision red.

It was an unnervingly clean underground laboratory, a stark contrast to the dilapidated warehouse outside. In the corner, Revira was tied to a metal chair. Her mouth was gagged, her eyes wide with terror as she watched the soaking wet Rakar standing in the doorway, radiating killer’s aura.

And in the center of the room—Ardan.

His son was strapped to a steel operating table. Bare-chested. The birthmark on his back was glowing red, pulsing wildly as if ready to explode.

A bespectacled man in a pristine white lab coat stood beside the table, holding a scalpel that gleamed under the operating light. Dr. Nirael. He didn't look afraid. He looked fascinated.

"Remarkable," Nirael murmured to himself, his eyes glued to the graph on his tablet. "Look at the energy spike. He truly is the perfect specimen."

He finally turned toward the door, a faint smile on his face.

"Ah, Rakar. I knew you would come. Please, come in. I need comparative data directly from the genetic source."

"Get that knife away from my son," Rakar’s voice filled the room like thunder in a cave, "or your hand will be the next research sample."

Nirael chuckled. "Always dramatic. Welcome to my laboratory. You're right on time."

Rakar stepped forward. "I’m here to collect my family. And bury you."

"Assistants, restrain our guest," Nirael ordered casually. "Don't kill him. I need his blood sample."

Two hulking men stepped out of the shadows, holding military-grade stun batons.

"Back off, old man," one assistant sneered, "or we’ll fry you well done."

Rakar didn't slow down. He accelerated.

*ZZZT!*

The first assistant jabbed the baton into Rakar’s abdomen. Thousands of volts surged through him.

Rakar snarled. His core muscles tightened, absorbing the shock. Instead of collapsing in convulsions, Rakar gripped the end of the baton with his bare hand. The smell of burning flesh filled the air.

"What—" The assistant stared. "Why isn't he falling?!"

"Because I’m not a rhino," Rakar hissed.

He yanked the baton, dragging the assistant close, then slammed his forehead into the man’s nose.

*THWACK!*

The sound of the breaking nose was sickeningly crisp. The first assistant dropped.

The second assistant tried to attack from behind. Rakar spun, delivering a precise back elbow to the jaw.

*CRACK.*

The man was sent flying, crashing into a shelf of test tubes. Shards of glass rained down onto his unconscious body.

Now, only Nirael remained.

The doctor didn't run. He took a step back, pressing a red button on his operating table.

*CLICK.*

"You are strong, Rakar. Very strong," Nirael said. "But biology is still biology. Every living thing has an 'off' switch."

*PSSSHHHT!*

Suddenly, a silvery gas sprayed from the four corners of the ceiling. And from the floor beneath Rakar’s feet, micro-needles shot up, penetrating the soles of his boots.

"Argh!" Rakar groaned in shock.

A burning cold spread from his feet to his spine. It felt as if his blood were being replaced by rapidly hardening wet cement.

*Liquid silver. Neurotoxin.*

"A custom dose," Nirael explained. "Enough to kill a platoon of special forces. Or render one Alpha completely paralyzed for three hours."

Rakar’s legs gave out. His knees hit the tiled floor.

*THUD.*

His vision began to blur. His nerves screamed. He tried to clench his fist, but his fingers only twitched weakly.

"Dad!" Ardan screamed. "Get up, Dad! It hurts!"

"Mmmphhh!" Revira struggled in her chair, tears streaming down her face as she watched her husband fall.

Nirael walked closer, crouching in front of Rakar. "Pathetic," he whispered. He patted Rakar’s cheek gently. "You have the strength of a god, but your mind is still an animal’s. Easy to provoke. Easy to trap."

Rakar tried to bite Nirael’s hand, but his neck was too stiff.

"Save your energy," Nirael said. He stood, returned to Ardan’s side, and raised his scalpel again. "Watch closely, Rakar. This isn't murder. This is harvesting. I need his spinal fluid while he is conscious and terrified."

The blade descended slowly.

On the floor, Rakar felt his world collapsing. He had failed. He had come, he had fought, and he had lost to a cheap trick.

'No.' The voice echoed in his head. His wolf’s voice. 'Get up.'

Rakar bit his own tongue. Hard.

*SPLAT.*

Fresh blood flooded his mouth. The searing pain shocked his brain, granting him a single second of clarity.

He wasn't just a wolf. He was a Father. And a Father does not lose in front of his child.

"Nirael..."

The sound didn't come from Rakar’s mouth, but from his chest, which rumbled like thunder.

Nirael stopped, startled. "What? You can still speak?"

Rakar lifted his head. The veins in his neck bulged. His eyes were no longer brown. His pupils elongated vertically, glowing golden yellow.

"You think..." Rakar forced one hand to move, gripping the leg of the steel operating table until the metal buckled, "...this poison is enough?"

*GRAAAARRRHHH!*

With a roar that shattered the light fixtures, Rakar launched himself from his knees. He fought the neural paralysis with sheer willpower.

Nirael’s eyes widened. "Impossible! Medically, you should be paralyzed!"

Rakar didn't care about medicine. He lunged. His hand shot out, catching Nirael’s wrist.

*CRUNCH.*

"AAAAARGH!" Nirael screamed as his bones were crushed. The scalpel dropped.

Rakar yanked the doctor close. "You were wrong," Rakar hissed. "I’ll show you what a real monster looks like."

Rakar lifted Nirael’s body with one hand, then threw him with all his strength toward the concrete wall.

*BLAM!*

Nirael’s body hit the wall, then slumped to the floor like a broken doll.

The adrenaline faded. The silver toxin reclaimed control. Rakar’s body collapsed to the floor.

"Dad..." Ardan sobbed.

Rakar reached out a trembling hand. "Safe..." he whispered, his vision darkening. "You’re safe, son."

His consciousness faded.

The next moment, the front door exploded open again.

"BOSS!"

Daniel ran in, a silver pistol in hand. Eldric followed close behind. The emergency signal Rakar had sent before breaching the door had finally brought them here.

Daniel stopped short. He surveyed the scene of carnage before him. Two guards unconscious. The lab destroyed. Nirael sprawled out. And Rakar lying beneath the operating table.

Daniel rushed to kneel beside Rakar, pressing a scanner to his boss’s neck.

"Shit," Daniel muttered softly. "Level five pure silver neurotoxin. The dose is enough to kill a special forces division."

He looked up at Eldric. "I know he’s strong, Elder. But to move with this much poison in his system? Medically, the Boss should have died ten minutes ago."

Eldric stared down at Rakar’s body. "Blood never lies, Daniel," Eldric’s voice was deep and resonant. "You’ve lived too long among humans; you measure strength by their logic."

Eldric knelt, placing his hand on Rakar’s forehead.

"A King doesn't need muscle to move," Eldric continued. "He moves with *Will*—the absolute intent to protect his bloodline. He didn't wait for us. He cleared his own path."

Daniel let out a long breath, returning to his professional mode.

"Alright," he said, standing up. "The Boss’s job is done. Now it’s mine."

He looked at the crying Ardan.

"I’ll secure the Young Master. Elder, please stabilize the Boss. I’ll make sure this place is clean before the police or anyone else catches the scent. No trace will be left behind. As usual."