Chapter Eighteen

The great hall of the Blood Moon Pack was thick with tension. Torches burned low, casting long shadows across the stone walls. Warriors knelt in silence, their eyes fixed on the ground, too afraid to meet their Alpha’s gaze.

Derrick stood at the head of the chamber, his jaw clenched, fists tight at his sides. The faint scorch mark Kimberly had left on his arm still lingered, a reminder he couldn’t ignore. It burned not just his skin but his pride.

“She should have been broken,” he growled, pacing like a caged beast. “Instead, she fights with shadows that burn my flesh. Mine!” He slammed his fist into the oak table, splintering it. “Explain this.”

No one spoke. The silence was suffocating, until Catherine glided forward, calm and composed. Her crimson gown shimmered as she bowed her head. “Alpha, perhaps this is the power her mother carried. The Lunar Bloodline was always… unpredictable.”

Derrick’s glare snapped to her. “You knew?”

Catherine’s lips curved faintly, though her eyes betrayed nothing. “I suspected. But Kimberly was weak, voiceless, useless. I didn’t think the bloodline survived in her.”

Mona stood at her mother’s side, golden hair gleaming in the torchlight. She kept her head bowed, but a smile played at the corner of her lips. Derrick’s rage thrilled her, though she was careful not to show it too boldly.

“She embarrassed you,” Mona said softly, her voice honeyed poison. “She struck you in front of your wolves. They saw it.” She lifted her gaze, her eyes glinting. “If word spreads, they may wonder if the Blood Alpha can be challenged.”

The growl that tore from Derrick’s chest made the warriors flinch. “No one challenges me. No one defies me!”

But even as he shouted, doubt gnawed at the edges of his certainty. Kimberly had been nothing—a broken mate, a fragile wolf. Yet when he had pressed her to the ground, she had risen. When he had called her nothing, the shadows had answered her instead.

And then Lucien. The memory of his arrival still burned. That figure cloaked in darkness, his power unlike anything Derrick had seen. Shadows bending like obedient soldiers. Wolves scattering under his command.

For the first time in years, Derrick had felt something he despised more than weakness. Fear.

Catherine moved closer, her voice calm, soothing. “Then kill Lucien. If he protects her, she will never be yours. Destroy him, and she will have no shield.”

But Mona stepped forward, her smile sharper now. “No, Mother. Killing Lucien won’t be so simple. You saw what he did. His power is older than ours. He is not like us.” She tilted her head, golden locks spilling over her shoulder. “The smart move, Alpha, is patience.”

Derrick’s eyes narrowed. “Patience?”

Mona’s gaze gleamed. “Yes. Kimberly may think she is growing stronger, but she is still untested. Let Lucien train her. Let her believe she’s becoming something greater. Then, when the time is right, strike. Take both of them. Break her in front of him. Prove to the shadows themselves that you are the only true Alpha.”

Her words slithered into Derrick’s mind, feeding his hunger for dominance. He imagined it—Kimberly brought before him, fighting, struggling, only to be crushed beneath his strength. Lucien forced to watch, powerless. The pack witnessing their Alpha’s supremacy.

A cruel smile curved his lips. “Yes. You may be right. Let her run. Let her play with her shadows. It will make her defeat all the sweeter.”

Catherine’s eyes flicked to Mona, but she said nothing. She had seen the spark in her daughter’s gaze—the strange satisfaction, as though she already had plans within plans.

Derrick turned to his warriors, voice booming. “Spread the word. Kimberly Moonstone is not to be killed. She is prey, but she belongs to me. Anyone who dares end her life will suffer worse than death.” His gaze hardened. “But Lucien—if you see him, you strike. Bring me his head, and I will grant you anything you desire.”

The wolves howled, the sound filling the hall, but Mona remained quiet, her smile lingering.

Because she wasn’t thinking of Lucien’s head.

She was thinking of Kimberly’s face—stronger, fiercer, alive. And for the first time, envy curdled with fear in her chest.

What if Kimberly truly returned one day, no longer weak, no longer rejected?

What if she came back for the crown Mona had stolen?

Mona’s smile faltered, just for a moment. Then she forced it back, sweet and sharp. Because if Kimberly was to rise

… then Mona would simply have to crush her again.