The Luna they lost

ISLA

My chest was moving up and down so fast I thought I might stop breathing entirely. The cold concrete floor pressed against my shoes, and the smell of old dust and iron blood filled my nose. I stared at the massive dark creature standing only a few feet away from me. Only seconds ago, that creature had been Killian Cross, the star hockey player with the dark hair and the cold public smile. Now he was a giant wolf with thick fur and eyes that looked entirely too smart, entirely too human, and entirely too terrifying.

"Stay back," I whispered, my voice trembling so hard the words barely came out. I pressed my back harder against the wall, hoping the solid brick might swallow me whole. "Stay away from me. I'm dreaming. This is a dream. I fell asleep at my desk. I'm going to wake up in a minute."

Beside him, Asher and Zane had shifted back into their human forms, their skin bare and chest heaving, looking at me with wide, panicked eyes. But none of them moved closer. They stood there like men afraid that if they made a single sudden sound, I would shatter into a million pieces.

"Isla, please," Killian said, his voice soft and desperate. He took a slow step forward, his hands raised palms up to show he meant no harm. "Look at me. You're not dreaming. I know this is insane. I know it's terrifying. But you are safe."

"Safe?" I let out a harsh, broken laugh that didn't sound like me at all. "You just turned into a giant wolf! There are other wolves out there bowing to me like I'm some kind of queen! My apartment was broken into, someone tried to hurt me in this horrible building, and you're standing there telling me I'm safe?"

"Because you are our Luna," Zane snapped, his voice sharp and defensive, though his hands were shaking at his sides. He took a step toward me, his jaw tight. "Whether you want to believe it or not, whether you hate us or not, that is the truth. You belong with us."

"I don't belong to anyone!" I screamed, the fear inside me finally boiling over into a hot, blinding rage. I pushed myself away from the wall, my legs shaking so badly I almost fell. "I am an ordinary person! I grew up in a normal house with a normal life! I have a brother who had his life destroyed because of your stupid hockey team! I am not whatever crazy thing you are talking about!"

"Your parents lied to you," Asher said gently, his eyes filled with a heavy, aching sadness that made my stomach twist. He took a cautious step forward, his voice barely above a whisper. "Isla, look at your life before you were six years old. Just try to remember. Do you have pictures? Do you have memories of friends? Do you have anything at all?"

His words hit me like a physical blow.

I stood there in the cold, dim hallway, my mind racing backward through the years. I thought about my childhood. I thought about the empty spaces in my memory that my parents had always blamed on a childhood illness. I thought about the burned photograph I had found in the archives, the woman with my face, the missing Luna who vanished fourteen years ago—the exact year I turned six.

"No," I whispered, the word feeling small and fragile in the air. "No, that's... that's just a coincidence."

"It's not a coincidence," Killian said, his voice dropping to a low, steady rumble that seemed to vibrate right through my chest. He reached into the deep pocket of his jacket and pulled out a thick, leather-bound folder filled with old paper. He didn't hand it to me; he simply laid it down on a low wooden crate between us and stepped back to give me space. "We found this in the restricted files after you left our interview. Look at it, Isla. See for yourself."

I stared at the folder, my hands clenched into tight fists at my sides. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to run away, to turn around and race out of this dark building and never look back at the Northern Wolves or the Cross brothers ever again. But my feet felt glued to the floor.

Slowly, step by terrified step, I walked over to the wooden crate. My fingers trembled as I opened the cover.

The first page was filled with old registry notes and typewritten text. I scanned down the page, looking for anything that made sense. And then my eyes locked onto a section labeled Subject Genetics and Bloodline Markers.

There was a series of numbers and codes. And right beside them, written in neat red ink, was a notation about an ancient supernatural bloodline that matched the missing Northern Wolves Luna down to the exact genetic signature.

My breath caught in my throat. The paper fluttered slightly as my hand shook.

"This isn't real," I whispered, staring at the page until the letters blurred together into black smears. "This has to be a forgery. You made this. You're trying to trick me."

"We didn't make anything," Zane said, his tone biting, though the anger in his eyes had faded into something exhausted and grim. He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring down at the floor. "We didn't even know you existed until you walked into that arena. We spent twelve years looking for someone who was hidden right under our noses by people who wanted to use her or destroy her."

"Who?" I demanded, looking up from the papers to glare at him. "Who hid me? Why would anyone do this to a six-year-old child?"

"We don't know yet," Killian said softly, stepping a little closer. "But whoever attacked you tonight, whoever has been watching your apartment... they know who you are, Isla. And this facility is no longer safe. The person who sent that man after you knows you're here. We have to get you out of here right now."

"I am not going anywhere with you," I said, backing away from the crate. "You expect me to just throw my entire life away because of some old file and a pack of giant wolves? You want me to trust you after everything your family did to my brother? After everything—"

I stopped.

A sudden, sharp pain flared behind my eyes, so intense I gasped and pressed both hands against my temples. The cold concrete floor beneath my boots seemed to tilt sideways. The sound of the wind howling outside the broken windows of the warehouse suddenly faded away, replaced by the heavy, rushing sound of water and the rustle of dry pine needles.

The air around me changed. It didn't smell like dust and old metal anymore. It smelled like damp earth, wet moss, and crisp mountain pine.

I blinked, but when I opened my eyes, the dim concrete hallway was gone.

I was standing in the middle of a dense, dark forest. The trees towered above me, their massive branches blocking out the night sky so completely that only faint slivers of moonlight filtered down to the dirt. I looked down at my hands. They were tiny, small child's hands. My jacket was gone, replaced by a thin, damp sweater that did nothing to keep out the freezing mountain air.

I was six years old again.

And I was crying. Sobs and hiccups tore out of my chest, making my throat burn.

Someone was holding my hand, pulling me forward through the dark woods so fast my small legs could barely keep up. The grip was firm, warm, and desperate. I looked up, trying to see the face of the person leading me through the black trees, but the shadows clung to them like ink.

"Mama?" I whimpered, the sound small and pathetic in the vast, quiet forest. "Mama, where are we going? It's so dark. I'm scared."

The woman squeezing my hand didn't look down, but I heard her voice, ragged and shaking with a terror I had never understood until this exact moment.

“Don’t look back, Isla.”

Suddenly, another sound cut through the woods. Heavy, angry shouting echoed from somewhere behind us, bouncing off the tree trunks. Footsteps were crashing through the underbrush, closing the distance between us with terrifying speed. Someone was hunting us.

And then, above the sound of the shouting, I heard a man's voice call out through the trees—cold, commanding, and utterly merciless.

“You can't run from what she is. Bring the girl back to me.”

The sound of that man's voice sent a jolt of pure, paralyzing horror straight through my small body. My chest seized up. I wanted to scream, but no sound would come out.

With a sharp, violent gasp, the forest vanished.

The cold concrete floor rushed back up to meet me. My knees buckled, and I would have hit the ground if Killian hadn't moved with impossible speed, catching me in his arms before I could fall. His strong hands gripped my shoulders, steadying me as I gasped for air, shivering so violently my teeth were chattering.

"Isla!" Killian's voice echoed, sounding far away and yet right next to my ear. "Isla, look at me. What happened? What did you see?"

Asher and Zane were right there too, their faces tight with worry, kneeling beside us on the dusty floor.

I stared blankly at the wall, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. The memory was still burning behind my eyelids, so vivid, so real, I could still feel the cold rough bark of the trees against my skin.

I slowly turned my head, my eyes moving past Killian's worried face to look out toward the dark, open doorway at the end of the hallway where the shadows seemed to stretch and twist.

"I remember someone," I whispered, the words trembling on my lips.

Killian froze, his hands tightening slightly on my shoulders. "Who, Isla? Who did you see?"

I didn't answer right away. I just stared at the empty doorway, a cold realization settling deep into my bones, freezing every drop of blood in my veins.

"Someone was chasing me," I said, my voice barely audible over the sound of my own ragged breathing.