Silk Moon Pack
The Silk Moon Pack mountain stronghold had never been meant as a place to live. Once, it had only been their sacred walls and a temporary refuge for their dead. That had been before the Tri-Pack Wars.
Now it was a city.
Where tunnels once led into a web of empty caverns, broad halls stretched into markets, workshops, and schools. What had been a hollow cavern beyond the sacred walls now rang with the noise of livestock pens and fertile fields. Beyond that lay a valley carved deep in the mountain's embrace, ringed by ranges that stood like sentinels. Homes, three schools, businesses, a hospital, and three clinics had taken root there. The Silk Moon Pack had turned secrecy into sanctuary.
They rebuilt, yes—but they also reached outward. Their spies bled into enemy packs, planting ears and devices alike in Darkhowl and Starfire. Marco would not be caught blind again.
He sat in a deep niche high above the largest cavern, the training center, where recruits drilled beneath his gaze. Werewolves clashed in sparring circles, claws on shields, growls on shouts. His eyes narrowed as he watched a group moving through maneuvers he did not recognize.
That wasn't unusual anymore. Silk Moon had opened its gates to rogues and mercenary bands, gathering strength in bulk. But what Marco felt in this group was different: not loyalty, not discipline, but animosity. The air around them smelled of sparks before a fire.
His lips thinned. You didn't need love to serve in Silk Moon—but you needed order.
The first shove came fast. A rogue slammed his shoulder into a mercenary, and the mercenary's snarl promised retaliation. Marco moved before the blow landed.
He leapt from the ledge, intent pouring off him like a storm wind. By the time his feet struck the dirt, his body had partially shifted: shoulders broad with dense red fur, ears pointed and sharp, fangs glinting beneath lips pulled tight. The crowd parted like water.
The five froze, every muscle trembling under his presence.
"Explain."
Tar appeared at his side, silent but solid. The Beta's killing intent layered with Marco's, crushing the offenders until even the strongest mercenary staggered. Tar cursed himself for hesitating a breath too long before moving. Late. Unworthy. His Alpha deserved better.
One of the mercenaries swallowed hard. "Alpha. It's the rogues. They— they don't work well with others."
Marco's gaze slid past him, locking on the mercenary leader. Then he shifted his attention to the rogues. His next words came out with a purr that made the cavern itself feel smaller.
"So rogue is better than mercenary?"
The weight of his presence buckled knees. Only Tar and Jess, standing watch at the edge of the circle, kept their composure.
Marco's voice rose, sharpened, and filled every crack in the stone.
"You are all welcome in Silk Moon. I do not care what you were before. Rogue, mercenary, wanderer, traitor—it matters not. Here, you are mine. And I intend to restore my pack to what it was, stronger than before.
"But if you jeopardize that—if you so much as fray the edge of what I build—I will kill you, scatter your limbs across the stones, and let the carrion birds squabble over your bones."
His eyes burned gold as they locked on the rogues. "Do we have an understanding?"
Before they could answer, he turned and walked away. Tar remained, eyes hard, daring any of them to twitch. He almost hoped someone would.
---
Later, Marco found himself before the sacred walls, his feet carrying him without thought. His eyes locked on one name etched in ancient golden script, so fluid it seemed alive: Alisa.
She had been his anchor. His calm. His mate in all but fate's binding. And now she was ash in the earth, her name caught in stone.
"The world calls you Omega," Jess's voice came quietly at his side. "But they follow you as Alpha. What will you do to make them see the two are the same?"
Marco's jaw tightened. "I feel you have a suggestion." The warning in his tone would have broken a lesser wolf.
Jess ignored it. "Take a new mate."
His head snapped toward her. "Why do you test me, sister?!"
"You're still young. Strong. You can't carry the weight of a pack alone. Alisa is gone. You need someone."
"Alisa was my soulmate." The words cut like a blade, final, and he turned his back on her, walking away as though the conversation was already ash.
---
That night, the war room flickered with torchlight. Maps littered the stone table, threads of ink tying Starfire to Darkhowl, Darkhowl to Silk Moon. Marco stood over them, claws tracing lines like roads to conquest. Tar waited, silent, while Jess leaned against the wall with folded arms.
Marco didn't look up as he spoke. "It's time. Tar, you'll cross into Darkhowl's territory. Alone. They won't suspect a mercenary seeking coin. You'll plant eyes where I command. When Darkhowl moves, I'll know."
Jess's mouth curled. "Send someone else. Tar is your Beta, not expendable. You don't throw him into shadows like a pawn."
Tar's spine stiffened, but he said nothing.
Marco raised his gaze to Jess. His voice was steady, even calm. "You are my Omicron, Jess. My adviser. You remind me of what I don't see. But I have the final say."
Her eyes flashed. "You risk him for nothing. If Darkhowl catches him—"
"He is my Beta," Marco interrupted, his voice flaring with power. "Not a suckling pup to be coddled. If Darkhowl can catch him, then he is unworthy of the title he bears. But we both know that is not the case."
Silence pressed against the walls. Jess's lips thinned, but she gave no further protest. Tar inclined his head, eyes burning with quiet pride.
Marco stepped back from the maps. "It is decided. Silk Moon will know Darkhowl's secrets before they know their own."
The torches sputtered, casting shadows of wolves on the stone. For a moment, Marco's reflection seemed to blur with the red-furred beast lurking inside him.
Jess exhaled slowly. "Then may the mountain keep him."
Marco's lips curved, not in a smile but in certainty. "May the mountain keep us all."
But his eyes lingered on Tar. Not with fear—never fear—but with trust unbroken.