The Moon's Chosen

Kira'S POV.

The first time I saw a patient’s death before it happened, I thought I was losing my mind. Now, it’s just another day in the clinic.

The smell of antiseptic clung to my hands no matter how many times I washed them. It was barely dawn, yet the Night Crescent clinic was already alive with noise—coughs, cries, whispered prayers. This was my battlefield. Not swords or claws. Just medicine, bandages, and lives hanging by a thread.

Blood didn’t scare me. The visions did.

Every time I closed my eyes, the future bled through. No matter how fiercely I resisted, fate never listened.

“Dr. Hale,” a nurse called, pointing to a patient on my left. I gave a single nod before moving toward him.

The boy was no older than ten, his skin hot and burning with fever. I adjusted the stethoscope around my neck, then rested a hand on his forehead.

The vision hit before I could brace myself.

His chest froze beneath my hands. I heard his mother’s scream slicing through the ward. And I stood there, helpless, watching a death that hadn’t yet come.

Then it vanished. The boy blinked up at me, still breathing, still fighting. My face stayed calm, but my stomach twisted with what I now knew. The future was waiting. And no matter how many times I saw it, I could never stop it.

I pressed my lips together. “He’ll need an IV and cooling packs. Now,” I instructed. The nurse sprang into action.

Whispers followed me through the clinic. Whispers about doctor Kira Hale. Some called me a miracle, others a curse. None of them knew what it cost me every time I closed my eyes, how much I gave just to keep them alive. They came to me for healing, unaware that I carried a sickness of my own—a curse that let me see what was coming.

I reached for my clipboard when a familiar voice broke through the noise.

“You’re overdoing it again.”

I turned to see Erica. Another doctor, my closest friend. She stood with a tray tucked under her arm, brows furrowed, eyes soft with concern.

“I’m fine,” I said automatically, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“You’re not.” She set the tray down, lowering her voice. “You haven’t been fine for months, Kira. Don’t think I don’t know why. It’s about tonight, isn’t it?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. We both knew what tonight was.

“The Alpha’s mating ceremony,” she whispered, as if speaking it too loudly would shatter me.

My chest tightened. My hands gripped the chart. Tonight, he would seal his choice—the night he would bind himself to another woman, the daughter of the Alpha of Graymoon pack, the one he had chosen over me.

“Him and Amanda Graymoon,” Erica said, voice low. “Goddess, Kira… you should take the night off. No one expects you to—”

“I’ll be working,” I cut her off, sharper than intended. Then I softened. “Patients don’t stop bleeding or breaking bones because there’s a party across the pack house, Erica.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know. I was there the night he—”

“Don’t.” My voice cracked, just slightly. I masked it with a small, tight smile. “I don’t need reminding, Erica. I don’t need pity.”

And yet, the memory flashed through my mind.

“Kira, your visions… they make you unstable. This pack cannot be led by someone tied to shadows and omens. I won’t chain myself to weakness. The pack needs a Luna who can build alliances… someone who brings power, not a doctor weighed down by strange visions.”

My wolf howled inside me, clawing at the rejection. I had thought I might shatter if I moved, so I didn’t. I let him walk away, his back the last thing I saw before the bond snapped and left me in silence.

Erica’s gaze lingered on me a moment before she sighed. “You’re impossible.” Then her tone softened. “Speaking of impossible… you have a guest waiting in your office.”

I frowned. “This early?”

She hesitated, then leaned closer. “It’s him.”

My pulse faltered. I didn’t need to ask who she meant.

Alpha Alec.

The mate who had rejected me. The man preparing to claim another woman tonight under the full moon, before the entire pack.

“Thanks, Erica,” I said in a steady voice even though my heart refused to listen. Then I walked toward the office, every step heavy with the weight of what awaited.

Alec was already in my office when I stepped in—standing near the window with his hands in his pockets, looking perfectly composed, as if the space belonged to him. The morning light caught the sharp lines of his face when he turned toward me.

“You’re early,” he said smoothly. “I wanted to see you before the day swallows you whole.”

“May I help you?” I asked, placing my clipboard on the desk. My tone was steady—neutral, professional—offering nothing he could twist into weakness.

He stepped closer, his gaze moving around the room like a predator assessing its ground. “You’ve always buried yourself in work,” he said, voice low. “But sometimes… that’s not enough. Tonight’s important, Kira."

I raised an eyebrow. “You mean your mating ceremony.”

“Yes.” A faint smirk touched his lips. “But it’s more than a ceremony, Kira. It’s a test. The alliance depends on it. Amanda’s father—Alpha Bren—has promised loyalty. But promises can break when the stakes are high.”

I folded my arms. “And this concerns me because…?”

“I need your help,” he said in a deceptively soft tone. “You’re a seer, Kira. You’ve guided this pack before. I need you to look ahead again—to tell me if this alliance will succeed. If I’m taking the right step with Amanda Graymoon.”

His words sank in slowly. He wasn’t asking. He was commanding—using me the same way he always had. And the worst part? He didn’t even car that I saw it.

“So my visions are useful,” I said coldly. “but I’m not. I’m only good enough to serve this pack as a seer, but not to stand beside you as your Luna. Is that it?"

He tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “Listen, I made my choice, Kira,” he said simply. “But the pack has its own demands. You understand that.”

“I understand my duty, Alpha Alec,” I said. “But I’m not a tool to be wielded when it suits you. My visions don’t exist to serve your alliances—or your conscience, if you even have one.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he said nothing for a moment. Then, with that same calm authority, he replied, “Think of it as responsibility, not a favor. Every move tonight matters. I’m not asking this for myself, Kira. I’m asking because the safety of the pack depends on it.”

He stepped back, his voice lowering. “You know what failure costs. I'm sure I don't need to remind you. I trust you'll do the right thing tonight.”

And with that, he turned and left—leaving behind the faint trace of his cologne and the heavy silence of his absence.