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Three

Author: Raven Holt
last update Last Updated: 2025-09-08 07:29:05

Selene

The wilderness swallowed me whole, its dark embrace both a comfort and a threat. I had hunted these very woods since I was a child, so it wasn't too hard to find my way around. My boots sank into the damp earth, as I navigated my way through the forest floor littered with pine needles in the dark.

My body ached from bruises from their rough hands and cuts from thorns I'd stumbled through in my blind flight. But the real pain wasn't physical. It was that cursed thread tying me to Kaelen, pulsing with his every breath and his every touch with Lysandra. And my son, trapped in that stone prison, stolen by his father's greed.

I would see Dorian again. I would cut through steel and bone and fate itself if I had to. But I would get my son back.

The night was cold, the moon hidden behind clouds, leaving only starlight to guide me. My leathers were torn, the crimson gown long abandoned in a ditch, replaced by the hunting gear I'd grabbed before the guards caught me.

No bow, though. They'd taken that too, the damn bastards. My hands itched for its familiar weight, for the certainty of an arrow's flight. Without it, I felt naked and defenseless.

I moved deeper into the neutral lands, the no man's stretch between Bloodfang and Shadowfang territories. No pack ruled here, just rogues and outcasts, wolves too wild or too broken to kneel to any Alpha. It was dangerous, yes, but it was my only path. My plan was half formed at best: find shelter, regroup, figure out how to infiltrate the stronghold. Every step away from Dorian felt like a betrayal to my son, but I needed time... allies... anything to tilt the odds and give me a fighting chance.

The bond flared again, a sharp twist in my chest. Kaelen was with her. I gritted my teeth, forcing the sensation down.

Damn him, not now. Focus.

The forest was far too quiet and my instincts immediately screamed danger, but I kept moving, one hand on the dagger strapped to my thigh. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.

A twig snapped to my left and I froze, my ears straining. Another snap sounded, then a low growl, not wolf but something baser, and much hungrier.

My pulse quickened, but I kept my breathing steady as I crouched behind a gnarled oak, peering into the darkness. Shapes moved–three, maybe four, their eyes glinting yellow in the faint light. They were wolves, but not pack wolves; their movements were too erratic and undisciplined.

Rogues.

"Well, well," a raspy male voice called. "What's a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?"

I stayed silent but my grip tightened on the dagger at my side. Let them think I was easy prey. It'd make their mistake that much sweeter.

Another voice came again, but female this time. "Smells like Bloodfang. Bet she's running from something. Or someone."

They were closer now, circling the tree. My heart pounded, but my mind was clear and calculating. Three confirmed, possibly a fourth. No bows, just claws and blades. I could take them if I moved fast and used the terrain. The dagger was small, but I'd trained for close combat, and these rogues didn't look disciplined.

"Come out, little wolf," the first voice taunted. "We don't bite... much."

I smirked despite myself. Idiots.

"You sure about that?" I called back. "Last wolf who tried biting me ended up with an arrow through his throat."

"Oh, but we just want to have a little chat. No arrows now, girl. Just you and us."

They lunged before I could respond, shadows bursting from the trees. I rolled to the side, the dagger flashing as I slashed at the nearest rogue- a lanky male with matted hair and a rusted blade. He yelped as my dagger caught his arm, blood spraying, but the others were on me fast.

The woman, wiry and quick, swung a club at my head. I ducked, kicking her knee, and sent her sprawling. The third, a hulking brute, grabbed for my arm, but I twisted, driving my blade into his thigh. He roared and stumbled back.

Three down, but not out. Where's the fourth?

My eyes darted around, scanning the trees. The bond pulsed again. Kaelen's presence was a distraction I couldn't afford right now.

Damn you, Kaelen. Get your mangled butt out of my head.

The woman was up, snarling, as she raised her club. "You'll pay for that, bitch."

"Original," I shot back, dodging her swing. "Got anything better?"

She growled and charged, but I sidestepped, letting her momentum carry her into a tree. The lanky male was back, blood dripping from his arm, yet swinging his blade wildly. I parried with my dagger, and kicked him in the gut. He doubled over, gasping.

The brute was slower, but his size was a problem. He swung a massive fist, and I barely ducked, the air whistling past my ear. My dagger wasn't enough for him. I needed a weapon.

My eyes caught a thick fallen branch nearby. I dove for it, rolling as the brute's fist slammed into the ground where I'd been.

"Too slow," I taunted, grabbing the branch and swinging it hard against his knee. He bellowed, then collapsed, but the woman was back, tackling me from behind. We hit the ground, her claws raking my face. Pain flared, but I twisted, jamming my elbow into her ribs. She gasped, loosening her grip, and I rolled free, scrambling to my feet.

"Where's your pack now, Bloodfang?" the lanky one sneered, circling with his blade. "It seems no one's coming for you."

"Good," I said, my voice fierce. "Means I don't have to share the fun."

But I was tiring, and they knew it. Blood trickled from a cut on my cheek and my arms burned from the fight. The brute was up again, limping now but dangerous.

I needed to end this fast.

Suddenly, a new sound cut through the night, jerking all our attention towards it. It was a low, commanding growl, not rogue but pack, laced with authority. The rogues stopped, their eyes darting to the trees. I tightened my grip on the branch, ready for anything.

From the shadows a massive wolf emerged, his fur black as midnight with silver streaks, his golden eyes burning with authority. Scars crisscrossed his muzzle, his presence radiating raw power. Alpha power. I knew instantly who it was.

Draven Nightbane, Shadowfang's alpha, and Kaelen's sworn enemy.

The rogues backed away. "Shadowfang," the woman hissed with fear in her voice.

His gaze landed on me for a moment but neither of us spoke. My blood dripped to the dirt from my cheek and my thigh ached from where it'd been slashed but still, no one moved an inch.

Draven didn't look at them. His gaze stayed on me, head tilted slightly, studying me like a curiosity. Then when his voice came, it was deep and carrying the weight of command no one dared to defy. "Leave. Now."

Then taking slow but measured steps towards me, he added, "I've claimed this one. She's mine."

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Latest chapter

  • Her Alpha's Rejection, His Luna's Rise    Twenty-one

    SeleneThe stone hall of Shadowfang was colder than the storm outside, its high walls lined with torches that flickered against carved wolf sigils. I stood at the center, flanked by Veyra, and Thorne, while the pack crowded the benches, murmuring. Draven stood close, his bandaged arm stiff at his side, but his warmth didn’t reach me. Last night’s promise in the temple felt fragile now, silent since we left the courtyard. Torren leaned against a pillar with his arms crossed, his face was unreadable, his eyes burning when they flicked my way. Elara’s death was a wound we all carried, but his grief felt like an accusation. Eldress Mara rose, her voice cutting through the hall. “The mission to retrieve the Luna’s son failed. Elara is dead, our Alpha is wounded, and Kaelen walks free. We demand answers.” The pack stirred, with whispers rising among the crowd. I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms. They deserved the truth, but how could I e

  • Her Alpha's Rejection, His Luna's Rise    Twenty

    SeleneThe storm battered us as we stumbled through the jagged hills toward Shadowfang, a relentless downpour soaking us to the bone. Torren carried Elara’s body, wrapped tightly in blood-stained cloaks. He hadn’t spoken since we fled the collapsing fortress, his eyes fixed ahead like he could outrun the pain. I gripped Draven’s arm, steadying him as he limped, but he’d barely looked at me since, his focus locked on guiding the group home.“Keep moving,” Draven rasped, voice hoarse as he waved Veyra and Thorne ahead.Veyra glanced back, her braid plastered to her neck, eyes sharp with worry. “Draven, you’re bleeding again. Let me–”“I said move,” he snapped, wincing as he stepped over a rock. His tone softened. “We’re almost there. Save it for the healers.”I tightened my grip on his arm, feeling the tremor in his muscles. “You’re not invincible, Nightbane. Let me take some weight.”He pulled away. “I’ve got it, Selene.”

  • Her Alpha's Rejection, His Luna's Rise    Nineteen

    SeleneThe world narrowed to the rubble and flames separating me from Draven, his still form barely visible through the choking dust and smoke. His chest had stopped rising, his blood pooling beneath him and soaking into the cracked stone. "Draven!" I screamed and began frantically clawing at the debris, nails splitting as I heaved rocks aside, the heat scorching my skin. "Draven, get up. Gods, please, get up!" The flames licked higher, devouring everything they touched. I heard Torren's pained groan cut through the haze. I turned to see he lay nearby, his arm mangled, with his leg twisted at an unnatural angle. "Luna, get out! The tunnel's coming down!" "No!" I snarled, tossing another stone aside, my hands bloody now. "He's not breathing, help me!" The ceiling groaned again, more rubble crashing down, forcing us back. The guards were gone, scattered or crushed, but the flames spread, the curse turning them into writhing sh

  • Her Alpha's Rejection, His Luna's Rise    Eighteen

    SeleneThe fortress’s iron gates loomed behind us, their runes pulsing red like a heartbeat, sealing Veyra, Thorne, Renn, and Elara outside. Dorian’s cries echoed through the stone corridors ahead, each one a knife twisting in my chest. “Stay close,” Draven whispered, drawing his sword, golden eyes scanning the dark. Torren flanked him, holding a dagger on either hand, ready for anything. The prisoner we’d freed earlier trailed behind us, muttering about traps. "Be careful. Kaelen rigged this entire place,” he rasped. “There're blood wards everywhere.” “Keep moving,” I said, following Dorian’s cries. The corridors twisted as we moved, the stone walls carved with ancient runes that pulsed erratically, amplifying the curse. We reached a central chamber, its ceiling arched high, lit by flickering braziers. At the far end, behind bars glowing with blood-red wards, was Dorian. My son's red hair was matted now, his small hands gripping the bars,

  • Her Alpha's Rejection, His Luna's Rise    Seventeen

    Selene The prisoner’s words echoed in my skull, as I tried to process. The ritual of Vermous. A scorned Luna’s blood. Kaelen wasn’t just holding Dorian hostage for the fun of it, he was luring me to the Red Cliffs to get my blood for the ritual. A ritual that would crown him Alpha over all six packs: Bloodfang, Shadowfang, Veyor, Castleseal, Archevale, and Mysticlands. Just the thought of it sent my head reeling. That amount of power would amplify his wolf tenfold, making him untouchable. The fire in our camp flickered, casting long shadows that twisted into mocking faces, the curse’s whispers hissing in my ear: You’ll fail. Dorian’s gone and it's your fault. I clenched my fists as I pondered it, my son was bait, and I was the prize. The realization burned, fueling the guilt over the raid that already choked me. Draven sat across the fire, his golden eyes fixed on the prisoner who cowered under his star

  • Her Alpha's Rejection, His Luna's Rise    Sixteen

    Selene Morwen’s sigil, a crescent moon pierced by a dagger, flashed on the banners, confirming Renn’s report. My chest tightened, the curse’s whispers weaving through my thoughts: Traitor. You’ll lose them all. Mixing with the dread of facing Morwen, Draven’s former betrothed, and now Kaelen’s ally. The Red Cliffs loomed closer, but this patrol stood between us and Dorian... and possibly the artefact Morwen carried, if Torren’s intel held true. Draven crouched beside me behind a jagged outcrop, his golden eyes scanning the approaching patrol. “Twelve, maybe fifteen,” he whispered, his voice steady despite the odds. “We hit fast, use the curse’s illusions to our advantage. Selene, cover the left flank with your bow. Veyra, right. Thorne, Renn, with me. Elara, stay back but be ready.” I nodded, nocking an arrow, but my hands shook. The hallucinations hadn’t relented –

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