MOONBOUND LIES

The boy’s words froze the breath in my chest.

“They’re coming.”

I crouched beside him, scanning the forest. The shadows were long, the wind sharp with the scent of blood and… something else.

Burnt fur.

Rot.

Fear.

“Who’s coming?” I whispered.

He shook his head, tears streaking the dirt on his cheeks. “Bad wolves.”

My stomach twisted.

Rogues.

“Can you move?”

He bit his lip and tried to sit up but gasped and fell back, clutching his leg.

Fractured. Maybe worse.

I didn’t have time to think. If rogues were close, and they caught his scent…

“We have to hide.”

He blinked up at me, eyes wide and wild. “But I don’t know you.”

Fair.

I looked like a ghost, skin bruised, hair a mess, my dress little more than tattered cloth.

“My name is Erica,” I said softly. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to help.”

He hesitated, then gave a shaky nod.

I lifted him gently, gritting my teeth as his weight settled in my arms. He was small, but every muscle in my body screamed in protest.

Still, I carried him.

Because I had to.

Because no one had carried me.

I found shelter in a hollow tree near the creek.

Barely big enough for two, but it was hidden and dry.

I set the boy down carefully and used the last of my sleeve to wrap his leg. He winced, but didn’t cry.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Ren.”

“Ren, where’s your pack?”

His eyes flicked away. “Gone.”

My heart sank. “All of them?”

He nodded slowly. “Ambushed last night. I ran. I didn’t mean to. I just… I got scared.”

Tears welled in his eyes again.

I swallowed hard. “You did the right thing. You survived.”

He didn’t answer.

Outside, the forest quieted. Too quiet.

Even the birds had stopped singing.

I pressed my ear to the bark.

Footsteps.

Slow. Deliberate.

I pulled Ren close, one hand over his mouth, the other ready to fight.

The smell hit me next.

Rotten meat.

Matted fur.

Rogue.

He passed by the tree, tall and thin, bones jutting from his skin like knives. His eyes were glassy, glowing faintly red, lips twisted into a snarl.

He sniffed the air.

My pulse pounded in my ears.

Ren trembled in my arms, but stayed quiet.

The rogue paused. Turned toward our tree.

I held my breath.

Please, no. Not now. Not again.

A crack of thunder rumbled overhead

then a crash in the distance.

The rogue’s head snapped toward the sound.

Another scent must’ve caught his attention.

He ran, limbs jerking, deeper into the trees.

I didn’t move until I could no longer hear him.

Then I exhaled, slowly, and rested my forehead against the bark.

That was too close.

We stayed in the hollow tree until night.

I told Ren stories to keep him calm.

Ones my mother used to tell me before the war, before everything turned to ash.

He listened with wide eyes, chewing on a piece of root I’d dug up earlier.

“Was it true?” he asked. “The story about the moon goddess turning into a wolf to save her mate?”

I smiled faintly. “That’s what they say.”

He leaned against me, eyelids drooping. “I hope she saves you too.”

My throat tightened.

I didn’t reply.

Ren slept.

I didn’t.

I watched the woods, every crack of twig, every gust of wind setting my nerves on edge.

My wolf was stirring again.

Still not speaking.

But watching.

Stronger now.

Awake.

I could feel her heartbeat inside me louder than before.

It matched mine.

And somewhere, deep in the bond that once tied me to Derek, I felt…

A pull.

It didn’t make sense.

He was miles away, surely.

Still leading the pack.

Still hating me.

But the bond wasn’t gone.

Frayed, yes. But not severed.

Why?

Unless he hadn’t rejected me.

Not fully.

Was that even possible?

In the morning, I left Ren in the tree and went to find food.

I followed the stream, catching a rabbit by some miracle and cleaning it with a rock and my nails.

No fire, though. Too risky.

I returned to the tree, only to find Ren staring wide-eyed at something just outside.

A shape stood in the clearing.

Female.

Cloaked.

Eyes glowing faint silver.

She didn’t move when I stepped out.

“Who are you?” I asked.

She tilted her head. “You’ve awakened.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Your wolf,” she said. “She stirs. She knows the truth.”

“What truth?”

But she didn’t answer.

Instead, she stepped forward and placed a small satchel at my feet.

“For the boy.”

Then she disappeared into the trees without a sound.

I opened the bag.

Dried meat. Clean cloth. A small vial of silverleaf salve.

Enough to keep us alive a little longer.

I looked up at the woods where she’d vanished.

Who was she?

Why did she help?

That night, I dreamed of Derek.

He stood in the pack house, rain pouring outside the windows.

Lyall was beside him.

Smiling.

Wearing my necklace.

Touching his arm like she owned him.

And he… let her.

No rage. No guilt.

Just cold acceptance.

The dream shifted.

The image of his dead parents appeared bloodied, eyes open and lifeless on the floor.

Lyall stood over them.

Smiling.

Holding the empty vial.

I woke up screaming.

Ren sat up fast, panicked.

I tried to calm him, but the dream clung to me like vines.

Was it just a dream?

Or

A memory?

No. I hadn’t been there.

But it felt real.

Like my wolf had shown me something she’d seen.

Something that had been hidden.

Lyall.

She was my best friend.

My sister in every way but blood.

She couldn’t have…

Could she?

And if she had…

Why?

The next day was quiet.

Too quiet.

Ren slept most of it, feverish from his injury.

I tended to him with the salve.

But my mind spun.

Why would Lyall frame me?

What did she gain?

Unless… unless she wanted what I had.

The title.

The mate.

The pack.

Derek.

A sick feeling twisted in my gut.

Has she always wanted him?

Has she always envied me?

I thought back so many moments I’d brushed off. Her hesitation when I told her about the mate bond. The way she’d change the subject. The way she’d look at Derek when she thought I wasn’t watching.

I’d been blind.

So foolishly blind.

And now… I was here.

Alone.

While she was there.

With him.

The sun dipped below the trees.

Ren stirred and moaned.

His fever was worse.

He needed help.

Real help.

I couldn’t do this alone anymore.

I stepped out of the hollow, unsure of where to go when a sharp crack split the air.

A twig.

Then another.

I turned fast, heart racing.

Shapes moved between the trees.

Five. Maybe six.

Not rogues.

Too quiet. Too coordinated.

Then I saw the emblem stitched onto one of their sleeves.

Shadow Pack.

And in front of them… leading the way…

Lyall.