The desert was cruel at dawn.The wind carried no mercy, only sand and silence that scraped against my skin like knives. Every breath I drew tasted of dust and regret, and every heartbeat echoed the word that had destroyed my life.
Traitor !!!.
Valaen's voice lingered in my mind, cold, distant, unforgiving. His crimson eyes had held disbelief that day, yet not once had he asked why. Not once had he reached for me. His silence had condemned me before the Council ever could.
He had looked at me like I was filth. Like I wasn't his Luna.
I stumbled through the shifting sands, my cloak tattered, my throat raw from thirst. The sun bled into the horizon, painting the dunes a dull, angry gold. Somewhere far behind lay the world that had cast me out, my pack, my home, my mate.
I pressed my trembling hand against my chest, but the mark that once pulsed with him now lay silent. Dead.
Good. Let it stay that way.
The heat softened as I neared the borderlands. Jagged rock formations rose from the desert floor, marking the edge of Duskmoore territory. Beyond this line was a lawless town, Blackveil, a den for rogues, outcasts, and anyone daring enough to live outside the Alpha King's reach. It was said even the strongest Alphas had to tread carefully here.
Perfect.
My boots sank into cracked soil as I trudged onward. The air thickened with smoke and the faint stench of blood. By the time I reached the outskirts, the sun had drowned behind the cliffs, and the town had come alive with flickering torches and the low rumble of growls, laughter, and music.
Two guards at the entrance stiffened as I approached, nostrils flaring.
Duskmoore scent, one rasped. Royal, by the smell of it.
I straightened my spine despite the exhaustion weighing on my limbs. Not anymore, I said, my voice steady.
The other guard smirked. We don't care who you were, sweetheart. Just don't cause trouble.
I didn't flinch. I won't, I said, stepping past them, unless someone gives me a reason to.
Inside, the streets of Blackveil were narrow and crowded, built from splintered wood and scavenged stone. Wolves of every rank and scent filled the alleys, their eyes glowing faintly in the dark. Gamblers shouted, merchants bartered with fangs and silver, and women in veils whispered promises from shadowed doorways.
I walked through it all, head high, ignoring the stares. For the first time in weeks, I felt something other than pain, something I hadn't felt since before the betrayal. I felt purpose.
A low voice drifted from a nearby tavern. You hear? Thrax's men are back from Duskmoore's borders.
My steps faltered.
Another voice replied, Yeah. Heard they wiped out a raider camp. The Alpha King doesn't play around. Word is he's looking for a strategist, a wolf who can read people, command from the shadows.
I lingered in the doorway. Thrax. I'd heard the name before, a powerful Alpha who'd united the scattered packs under his banner, ruling from the Ironfang stronghold beyond the desert. A man as feared as Valaen was. Maybe that was what I needed, someone as dangerous as Duskmoore to stand against him.
I entered the tavern. The room fell silent for a heartbeat. My silver hair, dulled with dust, still shimmered faintly in the torchlight. Eyes lingered on me, curious and wary.
The bartender, a scarred woman with amber wolf-eyes, leaned on the counter and raised a brow. What's a beautiful girl like you doing in a place like Blackveil? Not many wanderers come here for fun.
I hesitated, my throat dry and raw. It's a long story. Sad, and I don't really want to talk about it.
Her eyes softened slightly, a hint of empathy under her experience-hardened gaze. I've been around long enough to know most girls who end up here, she said. It's not just mischief. Betrayal. By someone they trusted.
I stiffened at the truth in her words but said nothing.
She poured a dark amber liquid into a chipped glass and pushed it toward me. Here, she said. This will help. Strengthen your wolf a bit. Looks like she's been running too long without proper feeding.
I accepted it without resistance. The taste was earthy, sharp, like molten fire sliding down my throat. My pulse steadied. The ache inside eased slightly. My senses sharpened again, reminding me that I was still alive and still dangerous.
Better? she asked, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
Yes, I admitted, savoring the warmth that spread through my chest.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
If I were to find work here, what could I actually do? Something practical.
She leaned on the counter, considering. Depends on what you're willing to do. The most lucrative job is, well, prostitution. Servicing the rich, powerful rogues that pass through or stay in blackveil. Other options? Bartending, like I do, keeps you fed and in the mix. There's hunting, farming, but those jobs have strict rules. You need strength, stamina, and a wolf that can handle itself in the wild. You? She glanced at me skeptically, then shook her head. You don't look like the type for heavy work.
I smiled faintly, sipping the tonic again, letting it warm me. I may surprise you, I said.
She raised an eyebrow, amused. We'll see about that.
I nodded in thanks. I'm Selene.
Moremi, she replied, holding out a hand.
Welcome to Blackveil, little wolf. Don't get yourself killed before you learn the rules.
I shook her hand firmly, feeling the promise of the road ahead. The tavern's shadows stretched around me, alive with murmurs of people in the background.
For the first time in weeks, I felt something flicker inside me besides pain. Purpose.
The moon rose high above the rogue town, silver and cold. Its light touched my skin like a blade. And beneath it, I, the exiled Luna, took my first step toward vengeance.