LOGINSHERRY..
The crimson eyes held my gaze, unblinking and predatory.
My heart hammered against my ribs, but for the first time in my life, I didn't curl into a ball and hide. The broken pieces of my mate's bond were still bleeding inside me, numbing me to the instinctual terror a wolf should feel when trapped by a predator.
"Who's there?" I called out, my voice cracking slightly.
The shadow shifted and the crimson eyes moved forward, stepping out from the dense line of trees into the pale, silver moonlight.
It wasn't a wolf like I had expected. it was a man.
He was massive, easily crossing six feet four, with a broad, scarred chest barely concealed by a dark, unbuttoned shirt.
His jawline looked as though it had been carved and dark, unruly hair fell over a brow pinched with intense scrutiny.
He didn't belong to the Blood Moon pack.
I knew every warrior in our ranks, and none of them possessed this kind of terrifying, magnetic presence.
He stopped a few paces away, his nostrils flaring as he took in a deep, sharp breath.
"You're bleeding," he said. His voice was a low, gravelly baritone that seemed to vibrate through me.
"I'm fine," I snapped, pushing myself up against the rough bark of the tree. My legs were shaky, but I forced myself to stand tall, wiping the back of my hand across my damp cheeks. "You're trespassing on Blood Moon territory. My brother is the Alpha. If you don't leave, the patrols will find you."
The stranger let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Your patrols couldn't find a rogue if it bit them on the tail, And you are far from fine." He took another step closer, his eyes tracking the path of my tears. "I felt the snap from the border. A rejection."
Humiliation flared hot in my chest, replacing the cold despair. "It's none of your business. Leave me alone."
"Sherry!"
Viktor’s voice echoed through the trees from the direction of the pack house, followed by the thud of running footsteps.
The stranger’s eyes shifted toward the sound, a dangerous, mocking smirk playing on his lips. He looked back at me, his gaze lingering on my face for a fraction of a second too long, sending a strange, electric shiver down my spine.
"We will finish this conversation later, Sherry," he murmured.
Before I could demand to know who he was, he turned and vanished and the suffocating pressure I felt earlier lifted from the air so fast I nearly gasped.
"Sherry! Oh thank goddess, you're here."
Viktor burst through the bush. Right behind him was Mia, her wild, curly hair a mess, her breathing ragged. The moment Mia saw me, she bypassed Viktor entirely and threw her arms around my neck, pulling me into a fierce embrace.
"I'm so sorry, Sher," Mia cried, squeezing me tight. "I was in the bathroom, I didn't see what happened until it was too late. I would have torn his eyes out. I swear to the moon, I would have killed him."
"It's okay, Mia," I whispered, though my voice sounded like it wasn’t, even to my own ears.
Viktor stopped a few feet away, his chest heaving. His eyes scanned the ground, his nose twitching as he caught a lingering scent in the air. "Sherry... was someone else out here? I smell something... foreign. Powerful."
"Just a rogue, I think," I lied smoothly, surprised by how easily the deception slipped past my lips. "He ran off when he heard you coming."
Viktor’s jaw clenched, his Alpha instincts on high alert, but his concern for me won over his duty to hunt. He stepped closer, placing a warm hand on my shoulder. "Let's get you home. Father is waiting. He heard what Eric did."
"I don't want to go back to the pack house," I said plainly. "I can't look at them. Any of them."
"You don't have to," Viktor said softly. "Father's private cabin. Just us."
***
The small wooden cabin on the edge of the pack territory was a stark contrast to the roaring celebration I had fled. A fire crackled in the hearth, throwing warmth everywhere.
My father, Albert, sat in his leather armchair. He looked older tonight. The stress of leading the pack for decades had grayed his temples, but the sight of me walking through the door, pale and broken, seemed to age him by ten years instantly.
"My sweet girl," he breathed, standing up and pulling me into his arms. "I am so sorry. If I had known that boy would dare disrespect you like this—"
"It's fine, Father," I interrupted, pulling back gently. I couldn't handle the pity.
It felt like salt in an open wound.
"It is not fine!" Camilla’s voice cut through the room as she marched in from the kitchen, a teacup trembling in her hand. "The entire pack saw it, Albert! The Alpha's daughter, rejected by a Beta. Do you know what the surrounding packs will say? They will think our bloodline is fading, that we breed weak females who can't even hold the interest of our own high-ranking warriors."
"Camilla, hold your tongue," Albert roared, his voice shaking the small cabin. "Our daughter is bleeding from a broken bond, and you are worried about politics?"
"I am worried about our survival!" Camilla snapped back, her eyes flashing. "She needs to be replaced. Mated. We must find a reputable male from a neighboring pack immediately. An Alpha, or a high-ranking Beta, to erase this stain on our name."
"I am not a stain," I said.
The room went dead silent. Everyone turned to look at me. I had never spoken up against my mother before. I had always shrunk away, letting her words slide over me while I hid behind my father.
"I am not a stain, and I am not a prize to be auctioned off to the highest bidder to save your pride, Mother," I said, my voice cold, and entirely devoid of the timidity they expected.
Camilla gasped, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. "How dare you—"
"Dad," I said, turning my back on her and looking directly at my father. "You sent me away to the city schools to keep me safe. I want to go back. But not to study. I want to train. I want to leave this territory tomorrow morning."
"Sherry, you're in no condition to travel, let alone train," Viktor said, stepping forward, his brow furrowed. "The rejection trauma—"
"The rejection trauma will kill me if I stay here and watch Eric parade around with Hazel," I countered, looking my brother in the eye. "I need to get strong. I need to leave."
Albert stared at me for a long, agonizing moment. He searched my face, looking for the fragile, terrified girl he had protected all his life.
He didn't find her.
Slowly, a look of profound sadness, mixed with a sliver of pride, settled into his eyes.
"Okay," Albert whispered. "Viktor will arrange a driver for tomorrow morning. You will go to our private estate in the city and I will send our best retired trainers. But you must promise me, Sherry... you will come back for your twentieth birthday next year."
"I promise," I said.
The ReversalSHERRYWe returned to the outbuilding the following night.The first contact had given us the shape of the binding and a warning. It had not given us the practical steps. Eric believed a second petition, made with clearer questions and a stronger acceptance of the cost, might draw a more complete answer. I agreed to witness again under the same conditions as before: the rope, the circle, and the decision to pull him out at the first sign that the contact was taking more than it gave.He marked the chalk line, placed the metal piece at the center, and cut his palm. The blood met the etched mark. The air inside the circle densified the same way it had the first time. The outline gathered more slowly, as if the distance had increased or the remaining attachment had grown thinner.When the voice came, it was still rough and still distant.“You came back.”“I need the exact terms,” Eric said. “Not the shape. The method.”The outline held. For a moment I thought it would refus
His Father’s SpiritSHERRYThe idea of reaching the dead did not arrive as a sudden inspiration. It arrived as a practical problem with a limited set of tools.Eric brought the metal piece to the small records room the next morning and set it on the table between us. We had already established that prolonged contact intensified the symptoms. What we had not tested was whether the object could be used as more than a trigger.“Pack law allows formal petitions to the dead under two conditions,” he said. “The petitioner must have blood claim, and the petition must be witnessed by at least one senior officer who accepts the risk of residual attachment. The rites themselves are old. They are not performed often because the results are unreliable and the cost is not always limited to the petitioner.”I looked at the etched mark on the metal.“Does the object change the conditions?”“It may. If it is the anchor for the curse, then it is already a point of contact. Using it in a petition coul
Truth About The CurseSHERRYTwo days later Eric came to find me after the morning drills.He looked more settled than he had at the fence, though the settlement sat thin. He did not waste time on the smaller subjects.“I pulled the command chain,” he said. “The hold order on the recovery team originated from the Alpha’s office. The language was routine. The timing was not. It was issued within an hour of the last confirmed contact with the temporary post.”We walked the long path behind the sheds while he laid out the rest. The order had been logged under a general readiness code that required no individual signature beyond the office itself. In practice that meant Viktor’s father or someone acting with his authority. The paper trail stopped there.“It does not name a killer,” Eric said. “It names a decision to keep the recovery team away until the scene could no longer speak clearly.”I absorbed the detail without interrupting. The investigation had moved again. The personal weight
BrokenSHERRYEric did not go to the operational files.He walked past the administrative wing and kept going until the path narrowed behind the storage sheds. I followed at a distance far enough to give him space and close enough that he would not have to look for me if he stopped. He stopped near the same stretch of fence where we had stood after the first real conversation about the curse.For a while he said nothing. The afternoon had thinned into early evening. The light along the tree line was the flat kind that made distances harder to judge.“I keep trying to put the pieces in an order that still allows the ordinary version,” he said finally. “Border incident. Bad luck. A man who preferred the work to the title. Every time I line them up, the hold order and the clear weather and the reduced records push them out of place.”I stayed where I was.“I was twelve,” he said. “I asked the questions a twelve-year-old asks. Where is he. When is he coming back. After the rites, the que
The Murder SHERRY The retired fighter lived in the third house along the eastern row. His name was Harlan. He opened the door before we knocked, as if the sound of two sets of boots on the path had already told him the visit was not social. He looked at Eric first, then at me, and stepped aside without asking for an explanation. The front room was small and ordered. A single window faced the fence line. Harlan did not offer seats. He stood near the table and waited. Eric placed the recovery roster on the wood between them. “You were listed on the team that recovered my father,” he said. “The official report claims weather delayed the response. The coastal records for that week show clear conditions. I need to know which version is true.” Harlan’s expression did not change much. He was older than most of the active fighters, the kind of man who had learned to keep his face quiet during long service. He looked at the roster for a moment, then at Eric. “The weather was cle
The BetrayalSHERRYWe did not go to Viktor immediately.Eric wanted the sequence tighter before he placed the recommendation and the fragment in front of the man who had grown up calling his father a mentor. I understood the caution. Once the evidence left our hands, the investigation would stop belonging only to us.Instead we returned to the operational drawer and the transition folder. Eric pulled every administrative note from the same year and laid them out in date order across the Beta’s table. The morning light had strengthened. Dust moved through it in slow lines.I took the supply requests and the patrol authorizations. Eric worked the internal communications. For a while the only sound was paper shifting.The contradiction appeared in a short logistics summary filed two days after the temporary border post was approved. The summary listed the post as already staffed and resupplied. The original supply request we had found earlier listed the same post as temporary and still







