The Crescent Moon
The cold of ancient stone burned Narelle’s knees. Kneeling at the center of the lunar circle, she felt every gaze on her skin like sharp claws: the matrons draped in white furs, the tense silence of the elders, and above all — him. The Supreme Alpha, Rhaek Vorn. Tall, motionless, his eyes as dark as the night’s buried secrets.
The ceremonial hall of the Sangreviva pack was carved into the rock’s heart, as old as the wars that had shaped the clan — a stark contrast to the city’s modern sprawl.
Here, decisions were made by blood or by vow.
Narelle had no choice.
A haze of pine essence and silver floated in the air, numbing the senses. Two omegas supported her from behind, clad in ceremonial white, while her own moonlight-blue tunic, thin as a whisper, left her neck exposed — the skin where she would be marked.
“Daughter of Mirah Nox, orphaned by lineage and tainted by unstable wolf’s blood, you stand before the Elders’ decree. You are accepted under the alliance forged between House Vorn and House Nox,” the Priestess intoned.
Narelle said nothing.
Her throat locked, but her eyes spoke everything: fear, restrained hatred, and a silent seed of rebellion. She knew why she was there. Rhaek Vorn had not chosen her out of compassion — he wanted her as possession. The last living Nox, heir to na ancient power even she didn’t understand, traded as a living token for land and tech.
The Crescent Moon ritual was only the beginning.
She had been raised among omegas, never touched with affection — only orders, only watchful eyes. The secret of the pack: the marked virgin who would grow under surveillance, destined to become fertile under the Alpha’s rule. And now, on that cold stone, the moment was real. When Rhaek stepped forward, the sound of his steps echoing through the sanctuary, something within her cracked.
It wasn’t desire. It was the certainty that if she ever escaped, she would never belong to anyone. Not to him. Not to the pack.
As the Priestess lifted the silver veil from Narelle’s face, Rhaek Vorn took two steps forward, his presence swallowing the ceremonial chamber. His golden gaze locked onto hers, and her heart thundered — a mix of terror and a sharp, animal thrill, as though each beat called out for that dominance.
He raised his right hand, and the short blade resting in a tray of live embers shimmered under the lunar light. Just a light touch — enough to mark her skin with the Vorn sigil. Na ancestral seal. The heat of that fresh brand ignited every nerve in her body.
Rhaek whispered, his voice cold as forged steel:
“You are mine forever now.”
Without waiting for a reply, he wrapped na arm around her waist and led her from the circle. The omegas stepped back in reverence as the stone doors closed behind them. In the adjoining chamber, the shadows were broken only by moonlight slipping through narrow slits in the wall.
When he touched her for the first time, Narelle trembled.
His hands were possessive, inescapable. Each movement stirred not only her hatred — for being offered up like a prize — but also something primal, buried deep: a raw, carnal instinct that screamed for this claiming.
Between shallow breaths, memories flashed —
Her first day there: waking in a cold dormitory, surrounded by white-robed omegas.
Their trembling hands fixing her hair, applying scented oils, whispering warnings: “Don’t cry, Narelle. That way, the Alpha will be pleased.”
And that ever-present feeling — being watched. Always silent. Always different.
The memory sent a chill through her, mingling with the heat Rhaek stirred in her skin. She shut her eyes, a quiet, incredulous moan escaping.
“To hate and crave at once — how is that even possible?”
He murmured something nearly inaudible — “You’re perfect,” — before taking her completely.
There was no tenderness. Only instinct and brute power — the ancient dance between alpha and fertile wolf.
When he finally pulled away, she remained nude, bowed, and crying.
He left her there, with only the echo of her racing heart and the damp shimmer in her eyes.
The future had not yet been written.
[...]
Some time later came the shock:
Rhaek Vorn announced his political union with the daughter of a powerful rival magnate.
On a cold morning, he summoned Narelle to the hanging gardens of House Vorn.
She arrived still fragile, hiding the secret curve of her pregnancy beneath a dark cloak, hoping — foolishly — to finally be named his Luna.
He met her gaze, expressionless:
“The clan needs alliances. What we had no longer serves me.”
The ground fell away beneath her.
He hadn’t sought her out in weeks.
The child inside her kicked, as if sensing her despair.
She swallowed hard, unable to speak.
Then, behind a jasmine bush, hurried footsteps.
Kael Vorn — Rhaek’s beta brother — appeared, face tense.
In a hushed, urgent voice:
“They’ll find out. Come with me, now, or they’ll take your baby.”
With one last look at Rhaek — a storm of betrayal and sorrow — Narelle took Kael’s offered hand.
As they slipped into the shadows of the garden, the tailor of intrigue planted a seed:
Vengeance. Freedom.
In the heart of a wolfess marked by destiny, but determined to rewrite it.
[...]
In the days that followed, Kael remained within the pack, carrying out Rhaek’s orders with his usual coldness.
Outwardly unchanged, inwardly transformed.
He became Narelle’s silent guardian — and her child’s.
He moved funds, secured her shelter, hired two loyal nannies, and ensured she had the resources to rebuild herself.
While Rhaek celebrated his new union, Narelle grew stronger — bolstered by that secret bond.
And day by day, Kael laid the groundwork.
For the moment when she would return not as prey — but as a powerful shareholder, ready to reclaim what had been unjustly stolen. When she was handed over to the Alpha while still young, the agreement was to make her his Alpha, independent of having a harem. But he broke the contract by violating her, humiliating
her in front of the others. And leaving her without a solution. unless: flee.