CHAPTER FOUR: BLOOD ON THE ROAD

SAMANTHA’S POV

The morning after the bush path tasted bitter in my mouth. Not from the food—I hadn’t eaten—but from the words that clung to me like poison.

She’s a liability… she doesn’t even have a wolf.

Rose has been waiting.

Every syllable replayed in my head as if etched there by fire. It was no longer just rejection I feared—it was erasure. Elias hadn’t just turned his back on me; he was planning to replace me. And not with just anyone, but with her. Rose Ryder.

The same girl who’d laughed at me for years. Who’d whispered “ghost girl” like it was my name. Who made sure I never forgot I was wolfless, cursed, unworthy.

Now Elias—the boy I had loved, the mate I had waited for under every moon—was choosing her.

I sat at the long oak table in the dining hall, surrounded by chatter, but the noise barely touched me. My spoon lay untouched in my bowl. I stirred once, twice, watching broth ripple as though the right pattern would steady me. It didn’t.

I must have looked worse than I thought, because Luna Marie’s hand found my shoulder. Warm, firm, steady.

“Come with me today,” she murmured, low enough that the others couldn’t overhear.

I glanced up. Her eyes were kind, but watchful, like she had seen through every wall I tried to build.

“Into town,” she added. “I’ll need help picking things for the feast. Your hands are steady. Your eye is sharp.”

A shaky laugh almost escaped me. My hands were anything but steady. Still, the thought of leaving the suffocating walls of Crescent Moon Pack House, of escaping Rose’s smirks and Elias’s silence, made me nod.

“Yes, Luna,” I whispered.

The SUV purred to life mid-morning, carrying us through the northern gate. Marie sat beside me, wrapped in a cloak of deep green. Her fingers traced the leather satchel on her lap, worry in the way they clutched too tight.

Two Crescent Moon warriors flanked us, grim and silent. Their presence should have been reassuring. It wasn’t. My chest still carried the echo of Elias’s voice from the night before, and nothing could ease it.

Marie spoke of ribbons, centerpieces, and flower garlands, but I barely heard her. I stared out the tinted window instead, watching pines blur by, tall and dark against the pale autumn sky.

“You’re quiet,” Marie said softly.

I hesitated, then forced a smile. “Just tired.”

Her gaze lingered on me for a moment longer. She didn’t push. She never did. But I saw the truth in her eyes—she knew.

Knew that Elias had gutted me without even raising his voice.

The town was alive when we arrived. Market stalls spilled across the square, colors and scents weaving into a dizzying tapestry. Bakers hawked golden loaves. Children darted between merchants. Fabrics hung in bright swaths of emerald and crimson.

Marie moved with grace through it all, as though she belonged everywhere at once. I followed half a step behind, carrying parcels, keeping my head down.

Everywhere I turned, I saw reminders of Elias. A silver clasp like the one he used to fasten his training cloak. A string of berries sold in a basket—the same kind he had once fed me on hunts. Even the air smelled faintly of cedar and pine, as though the market itself mocked me with his absence.

“Try this one,” Marie said, holding up a silk ribbon in pale gold. “Wouldn’t it look lovely on the tables?”

I nodded mutely.

She studied me a moment. “You’re not seeing the ribbons at all, are you?”

Heat burned my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I just—”

“Don’t apologize, child,” she interrupted gently. “Your heart is heavy. I see it. But listen to me…” She touched my chin, tilting my face up. “You are more than anyone’s rejection. Do you hear me?”

My throat ached. I nodded again, though the words lodged like thorns inside me.

It happened so suddenly I almost thought I had imagined it.

The shift in the air. The way every sound of the market—the hawkers, the laughter, the rustling of fabrics—seemed to vanish all at once.

Then came the growl.

Low. Long. Not from one wolf, but many.

Marie’s body went rigid. “Back to the car,” she ordered, voice sharp.

I spun just in time to see the first rogue burst from the treeline. Huge, mottled grey fur bristling, eyes red with hunger. Then another. And another.

The market erupted. Stalls overturned. Wolves screamed, some shifting mid-run, others too slow. The warriors at our side shifted instantly, fur bristling, teeth bared.

“Run!” Marie shoved me toward the road.

But I couldn’t move. My feet rooted to the cobblestones as a rogue lunged for me.

Teeth. Claws. The stench of blood and rot.

At the last second, Marie shifted, her mahogany wolf slamming into the rogue with a feral snarl. They tumbled across the square, claws raking, jaws snapping.

“Samantha!” her voice thundered in my mind. “Go!”

I stumbled backward, heart hammering. Another rogue circled me. I grabbed the nearest weapon—a broken wooden pole from a collapsed stall—and swung. It cracked across the wolf’s muzzle, barely slowing it.

Then pain. Sharp teeth grazing my shoulder, tearing skin. I screamed, falling hard onto the stones.

Marie howled. Her wolf tore the attacker from me, but three more piled onto her.

“Marie!” I cried, scrambling forward. My palms burned as I tried to pull one rogue off her flank. Useless. They were too strong.

Her body slammed against the stone fountain. The crack of bone echoed. She yelped, then went terrifyingly still.

“NO!” I screamed, shoving at the rogues with all the strength I had. Warriors appeared then, Crescent Moon’s best, snarling and ripping, scattering the rogues with brute force.

But by the time they reached her, it was too late.

Silence.

It stretched over the square like a shroud.

I crawled across broken glass and blood-slick stone until I reached her. She had shifted back to human form, her body crumpled, hair matted with blood. Her eyes closed. Chest unmoving.

“No, no, no…” My hands shook as I touched her face. “Wake up, Marie. Please. Please.”

She didn’t move.

“She’s gone,” one of the warriors said grimly.

I clutched her, rocking, sobs tearing from me until my throat burned raw. “No, you don’t understand, she—she was protecting me! It should have been me!”

I pressed my forehead to hers. Her skin was cold already.

The ride back blurred. I barely registered the SUV, or the way the warriors carried her body wrapped in bloodstained cloth. I only knew I couldn’t let go of her hand, not until they forced me to.

When we passed through Crescent Moon’s gates, the Pack was waiting. Faces pale, eyes wide. A murmur rippled through them as they saw the Luna’s body.

I stumbled after the warriors, clothes torn, shoulder still bleeding. My vision swam, but I forced myself to keep walking.

Then I saw them.

Alpha John. His eyes hollow, rage burning behind them. And Elias at his side—taller, harder, jaw clenched. Rose clung to his arm like a parasite, her face carefully schooled into sympathy.

The warriors laid Marie’s body down gently in the courtyard. Gasps rose. Wails followed.

I dropped to my knees beside her, cradling her head. “She fought for me,” I whispered, voice breaking. “She saved me.”

John’s gaze locked on me. The grief there curdled into something darker. Something accusing.

And then Elias stepped forward. His eyes finally met mine, but there was no warmth. No comfort. Only cold suspicion.

“What did you do, Samantha?” he asked, voice low and dangerous.

The words struck harder than claws ever could.

The Pack’s murmurs swelled around me, sharp as knives.

And in that moment, surrounded by blood and blame, I realized—

Elias wasn’t just rejecting me.

He was condemning me.