One-night Stand with Mr. Hudson: Hiding His Triplets

The sky wept fire the night the Silver Crest Pack fell.Not rain, not snow but fire.

It dripped from the heavens like molten sorrow, lighting the sacred mountains with flames that danced like devils across the trees. Smoke curled into the cold night air, thick and choking. And beneath it, raw, panicked, desperate, screams echoed through the valley like the wails of the dying stars.

A blood moon hung swollen above the world, its crimson hue casting the snow-strewn earth in a sickly glow. It should have been a night of communion, a night of prophecy and peace, when Moonborne wolves gathered to sing beneath the stars and receive their gifts from the divine. Instead, the ground ran slick with blood, and the bones of prophecy cracked under the boots of traitors.

Laura ran.

Her bare feet tore through bramble and frost. Her breathing came ragged, but she didn’t stop. Couldn’t. The infant strapped to her chest whimpered softly, the only precious thing Laura had left in a world collapsing around her.

“Shh, Ivy,” she whispered, pressing her trembling lips to her daughter’s forehead. “Just a little further. Just a little longer.”

Behind her, the ancient stones of the Lunar Hollow blazed, their runes glowing as they shattered, desecrated by wolves who once vowed to protect them. Warriors, once her kin, now turned feral with betrayal, slaughtered their own beneath the canopy of sacred trees. The air crackled with raw magic and the stink of ash.

Silver Crest had stood for centuries, untouchable, divine, a lineage blessed by the moon itself. Their wolves bore starlit eyes and were marked by celestial energy, their howls harmonizing with the sky. They were feared, revered, envied.

And tonight, they were dying.

Laura stumbled, catching herself on the roots of the Moonspire tree. She dared a look back. Through the smoke and flame, she could still see the ridge—the circle of standing stones where the Elders had gathered hours before, unaware that their closest guards had sold them to the enemy. They were the first to fall.

She felt it when her mate died. The bond had severed mid-scream, a hollow, violent pain ripping through her soul.

She didn’t cry. There was no time.

They’d come for power, for blood, for the extinction of the Moonborne line. But they hadn’t counted on her daughter surviving. They didn’t know about the prophecy, that on the night of the crimson moon, a child born of starlight and shadow would rise from ash and restore what was broken.

They didn’t know Ivy.

Not yet.

The baby whimpered again. Laura pressed her tighter to her chest and pushed forward through the snow. Her white ceremonial robe was tattered, stained with blood and soot. She was barefoot, trembling, her long silver braid tangled with smoke.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the child. “I should’ve seen this coming. Should’ve listened to the dreams. But I was too proud, i was too blind”

A howl tore through the night closer now.

Laura froze.

It was not a Silver Crest howl.

She recognized it. It was coarse, guttural, unclean. It was the Nightfall Pack. Her enemy’s offspring. They had allied with the traitors. She’d seen Kane Blackwood’s father, Lucas tear through the heart of the inner sanctum with cold eyes and fire-drenched claws. Laura had fought him once, years ago. He had promised extinction.

And now, he had delivered it.

Another howl. This time, behind her. They were closing in.

Laura reached the edge of the ridge. Below, a rocky slope descended into the woods forest. If she could just get to the river, cross the old bridge, she could reach the old den carved into the hills. A place hidden even from their enemies. A place of sealing.

She moved to shift.

But her magic was splintering. Her wolf was injured, her ribs were cracked, and her strength fading.

“Moon, guide me,” she murmured, and then plunged into the slope.

She half-ran, half-fell down the rocks, shielding Ivy with her body as thorns tore into her arms and legs. Snow mixed with ash, the scent of burning pines choking the air.

The woods trees swallowed her quickly. Darkness fell heavy between their twisted trunks, and still, she did not stop. The pain didn’t matter. Only Ivy did.

By the time she reached the bridge, her legs were shaking.

A tall figure cloaked in black blocked the path.

Laura’s heart lurched. She took a step back, but the figure raised a hand. “It’s me,” came a rasping voice. “Thorne. I told you I’d come.”

Relief hit her like a wave. She staggered forward.

Thorne, the old scholar, once banished for his obsession with blood magic. He had warned the council of betrayal, pleaded for protection. They hadn’t listened.

“Ivy—she’s the only one left,” Laura panted, tears finally breaking through. “You know what she is. What she’s meant to be.”

“I do,” he said, stepping forward. His face was drawn and ancient, the moonsilver scars across his eyes glowing faintly.

“Take her. Hide her. Erase everything.”

Laura unwrapped the baby from her robes. Ivy’s eyes blinked open looking dark, glimmering, and vast. The night sky caught in miniature. Laura kissed her one last time.

“Your name is Ivy,” she whispered, the words trembling. “You are my starlight. My last howl. You will burn brighter than all of us. But first, you must survive.”

Thorne reached for the child. Laura hesitated, clinging just a second longer.

“Seal her bloodline,” she ordered. “Bury it. Lock it with the old words. Let no one sense what she is.”

“It will cost you,” Thorne said softly. “because a sealing of that power must be done in death.”

Laura smiled. It was sad and fierce. “Then I will pay it.”

From behind, another howl, this one too close. The forest lit with torches. They had found her.

Thorne pulled Ivy close, already whispering the ancient incantations, the blood magic curling in the air like mist. Runes glowed faintly across his hands.

Laura turned to face the fire.

She stepped back onto the bridge and raised her head high, silver hair tumbling down her shoulders like a halo.

When the traitors emerged, they didn’t see a broken mother. They saw the last Moonborne standing between them and the end of a prophecy. Their faces twisted with hate.

One of them spoke. “You can’t stop it, Laura. It’s over.”

“No,” she said calmly, raising her hands. The moon glowed brighter above her. “It’s only just begun.”

With the last of her strength, she summoned a wall of celestial flame between Thorne and the path. A barrier of light and death.

The wolves charged.

Laura did not run.

She met them with bared teeth and wild eyes, the fire of a thousand ancestors in her bones.

And then, as claws met flesh, she screamed her daughter’s name—

“Ivy!”

And the forest exploded in white light.

Miles away, Thorne stood at the edge of an abandoned stone circle, cradling a sleeping child beneath a dying moon. Ivy’s eyes fluttered, and for a moment, the stars above seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat.

Thorne pressed his palm to her forehead. Blood magic shimmered.

Her aura faded.

Her scent changed.

Her legacy vanished from the world like smoke in wind.

In the distance, flames rose higher.

The Silver Crest Pack was gone.

But the last Moonborne still