The scent of wolfsbane was thick in the air, acrid, poisonous, unmistakable!
Grey groaned, pressing a hand to his bleeding shoulder. The wound was already swelling, the skin around it turning an angry black. His regeneration was slowing. Mira didn’t think. She reacted. She pulled him deeper behind the dumpster and yanked off her coat. “Don’t move.” “Wasn’t planning on it,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Who the hell shoots wolfsbane in the city?” “Hunters,” she snapped, tearing through her coat pocket for the emergency kit she always carried. It was small; bandages, painkillers, a scalpel, sutures. Barely enough. But she had one thing that mattered more: a silver syringe tucked inside the lining. One she hadn’t touched in years. A wolfsbane neutralizer. “You carry antidote?” Grey looked at her with something close to awe. “Every day since I was sixteen.” She didn’t explain that it had been meant for herself. In case her wolf ever came back. Mira jammed the needle into the muscle above the wound. Grey cursed, his body jerking against the wall. A growl tore from his throat, deep and feral. “Stay still,” she said, voice taut. “You want to shift with poison in your bloodstream? Be my guest.” He gritted his teeth. “You’re mean when you’re scared.” “I’m a surgeon. I’m always mean.” Mira pushed the rest of the antidote in, then reached for the scalpel. “You’re not going to cut it out,” he said, eyes wide. “Here? Now?” “You want it in there longer?” “Jesus, woman!” She didn’t wait for him to finish. With one clean motion, she sliced open the bullet track and dug out the slug. Blood gushed. He let out a guttural roar and punched the wall. She wrapped the wound quickly and looked up. The shooter was gone. For now. “We need to move,” she said. “Before they come back.” Grey tried to stand, swayed, and collapsed to his knees. Mira caught him, slinging his arm around her shoulder. His weight was almost too much. His body was on fire, his temperature climbing with the effort to burn out the poison. “How far is your car?” he murmured. “I don’t have one. I walk.” “Smart,” he said, smirking through the pain. “Less trackable.” “Shut up.” They stumbled out of the alley, Mira guiding them through the side streets toward her apartment. It was only five blocks away, but each one felt like a war zone. Her senses were on edge, the hair on her arms standing straight. She could feel the hunter watching them. Somewhere. But he didn’t fire again. Not yet. They reached her building; a crumbling brownstone wedged between a laundromat and a tattoo parlor. She punched in the code and dragged Grey up the stairs. He collapsed onto her couch the second they made it inside. Mira locked every bolt on her door. Then she turned to face him. “You have ten seconds to explain who the hell you are and what kind of trouble you brought to my hospital.” Grey looked up at her, still pale but smirking. “I told you. My name’s Grey. I’m your mate.” She crossed her arms. “Try again. And this time, use actual information.” His face darkened. “I’m the Alpha of the Bloodpine pack. Or… I was. Until they turned on me.” “Why?” “They wanted a war. I didn’t. So they tried to kill me. Staged a mutiny. Left me for dead in a rogue zone.” “And you’ve been running ever since?” “No,” he said. “I’ve been looking. For you.” Mira’s breath caught. “Why me?” “Because you’re not just my mate, Mira. You’re the Luna. And I need you to take back what they stole from me.” She let out a bitter laugh. “You think I’m going to leave my life, my work, my hospital, to be Luna of a rogue-blooded pack full of traitors?” His eyes flared gold. “You already are. The second I scented you, the bond snapped into place. You feel it too. I know you do.” Mira turned away. He was right. That pull; constant, magnetic, like gravity in her chest, it wouldn’t let up. But she’d spent ten years building a life that had nothing to do with the wolf world. She wasn’t going to burn it down over a pair of golden eyes and a broken crown. Grey leaned back on the couch, wincing. “You were born for this. Whether you admit it or not.” “I was born for nothing,” she said flatly. “I survived. That’s it.” “Not anymore.” A crash sounded from the hallway outside. Mira’s head snapped toward the door. Grey growled low. “He found us.” She grabbed the silver-bladed scalpel from her coat and tossed a knife from the kitchen counter to Grey. He caught it, still weak, but his eyes burning now. They both turned toward the door. And then…. BOOM. The lock exploded inward in a shower of splinters. A figure stepped into the doorway. Tall. Armored. Hooded. Masked. And then Mira saw what he was holding. Not a gun. A collar. Silver, laced with wolfsbane. Built to subdue and control. And it was aimed directly at her. End of Chapter Four ………………….. Who is the hunter, and why is Mira the target now? Will Grey be strong enough to fight back or is Mira about to lose the control she’s fought so hard to keep?The sun rose bloody over the hills.Mira crouched near a shallow creek, rinsing the blood from her hands. Her reflection in the water shimmered, unfamiliar. Her face was the same, but her eyes, no longer hollow.Now, they burned.Behind her, Grey kept watch as Liam helped their father settle against a tree trunk. The man looked barely conscious, but alive. Mira couldn’t stop glancing at him, torn between relief and dread.“You did it,” Liam murmured. “You broke the chains.”“No,” Mira said softly. “The pendant did. Our mother’s magic.”Grey stepped closer, his eyes flicking to the healing wound on her side. “You need stitches.”“I’ll heal.”“Still. Sit.”She did.Grey knelt in front of her, pulling gauze and antiseptic from his kit. As he cleaned the wound, she hissed but didn’t flinch.“How are you not panicking right now?” she asked him.“You mean after watching you transform into the most powerful wolf I’ve ever seen?”She smirked faintly.He wrapped her side carefully. “I’m panick
The sound that ripped from Mira’s throat wasn’t human.It wasn’t even hers, not entirely.Her wolf had been silent for years, buried under layers of control and self-denial. But now, under the blood-stained trees and her father’s agonized scream, it surged up like a storm breaking through her bones.A second howl; low, ancient, furious, echoed from her chest, vibrating through the stone circle.Valda’s smile faltered.“Oh,” she whispered. “There you are.”Mira didn’t remember moving.One second, she stood frozen in horror.The next, her body was shifting.Not fully. Not yet. But her fingers cracked, claws pushing through. Her irises blazed silver, and her canines extended. Her voice, when it came, was layered: hers and her wolf’s fused.“You don’t own me.”Valda’s eyes sparkled. “No. But I made you possible.”Grey moved in beside her, still partially shifted, blood still streaking his arm from the rooftop fight.“We can’t take all of them,” he growled low. “Not here. Not now.”Liam st
“No,” Liam breathed. “That’s not,…..he’s dead. He died with the pack.”The scream echoed again, fractured by the wind but unmistakably familiar. Mira’s spine stiffened as the sound twisted through her bones like it had been waiting in her blood all along.“I heard it too,” she said quietly.The seer stood slowly, gripping his staff. “The blood remembers. But what you hear now... is not the man you knew.”Grey’s claws unsheathed with a slow scrape. “We need to move. That sound didn’t just come out of nowhere.”Liam looked shaken, rooted to the ground. “What if it’s him? What if they took him too?”“If they did,” Grey said darkly, “then what’s left might not be your father anymore.”Mira grabbed her brother’s wrist. “We’re not leaving until we find out.”The seer turned toward the shadows. “You’ll find what you’re looking for beyond the dead grove. But be warned… the answers will not heal you.”“They never do,” Mira muttered.They left the hidden lair and stepped into the half-light of
The wastelands didn’t welcome wolves.They warned them.Even in daylight, the skies above the ruined valley stretched gray and still, like the sun itself had given up. Wind dragged through the jagged trees like breath through broken lungs, and every shadow whispered secrets Mira didn’t want to hear.Grey led them up the ravine, his limp worse now, though he never slowed.Mira kept her gaze sharp, her senses wider than they’d been in years. She hadn’t shifted in so long her body ached with the tension of resisting it but here, every hair on her skin stood on end. Her wolf stirred beneath the surface, restless and alert.“Are we close?” she asked.“Almost,” Grey said. “He doesn’t live in a house. He lives beneath one.”“Lovely.”Liam snorted. “I’m guessing we knock on a crypt and hope he’s home?”Grey stopped.“No,” he said. “He’ll find us.”Before Mira could respond, a deep, craggy voice echoed from the ridge above.“He already has.”They turned.An old man stood in the rocks, tall and
The night air was thick with the echo of that broken howl.Mira was already moving, boots slapping wet asphalt as she sprinted through the alley and out onto the silent street. Her blood pounded louder than the wind. It couldn’t be him. It wasn’t possible. But her wolf wasn’t questioning it, she was clawing, howling, aching toward the sound.“Mira, wait!” Grey was just behind her, injured but fast.She didn’t wait.She turned sharply down a narrow side street, past a rusted chain-link fence, and into the abandoned courtyard of an old church. The air changed here. Heavy. Charged. Like something sacred had been burned away long ago.And then she saw him.A figure, barely standing in the moonlight. Leaner than she remembered. Older. But unmistakable.He turned.Her breath caught.“Liam,” she said.He didn’t speak. His eyes, one golden, one bloodshot, searched hers like he was trying to make sure she was real.“I thought you were dead,” she whispered.He gave a shaky smile. “Same.”Grey m
Mira snatched the radio from the hunter’s belt.Her hands trembled, but her voice came out steady. Cold. Calculated.“He’s down,” she said into the speaker. “The Luna is not secured.”Silence.Then the voice returned, sharp and venomous:“Then you’re dead.”A high-pitched screech exploded through the speaker.Mira dropped the radio, just before it sparked and erupted into flames.“Shit!” Grey cursed, stomping it out before it could catch the carpet.“What kind of tech is that?” Mira gasped, staring at the melted plastic.“Black-market,” Grey muttered. “Hunter grade. Self-destruct failsafe. He was never meant to survive this job.”She turned back to the unconscious body. “Then he’s not just a grunt.”“No,” Grey said. “He’s a warning.”Mira crouched beside the hunter, grabbed his jaw, and forced his head to the side to check the scar again. It wasn’t just burned, it was ritualistic. Carved deep. Symbolic.The crescent. The daggers.Ghost Howlers.“They were wiped out a decade ago,” she