The Luna He Sacrificed

Freya stared at him.

“What does that mean?”

Ryder didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he bent down beside one of the dead guards and pulled a blade from the man’s belt like this happened every day.

Maybe for him, it did.

Freya watched him carefully while trying not to panic.

The stories had never described Ryder as human.

Monster.

Mad prince.

Savage Lycan.

That was what people called him.

But standing here now, covered in blood beneath the dark trees, he didn’t look insane.

He looked controlled.

Which was somehow worse.

“You’re not going to kill me?” she asked cautiously.

Ryder glanced at her over his shoulder. “Should I?”

Freya opened her mouth.

Closed it again.

His lips twitched slightly.

That tiny almost-smile caught her off guard.

“You’re afraid of me,” he said.

“You ripped someone apart ten minutes ago.”

“They attacked first.”

“That doesn’t make it less terrifying.”

Ryder stood and wiped the blade clean against the dead guard’s shirt. “You’re still alive.”

“Comforting.”

That earned her another look.

Longer this time.

Freya immediately regretted speaking.

Something about his eyes made her feel exposed.

Seen.

Not in the way Logan used to look at her.

Logan used to look at her like something soft.

Ryder looked at her like a problem he was trying to solve.

“You don’t act like a Luna,” he said suddenly.

The word hit harder than she expected.

Luna.

Not anymore.

Freya folded her arms tightly across herself. “I’m not one.”

“You were.”

“Not by choice.”

“Most women would beg to keep the title.”

A bitter laugh escaped her before she could stop it. “Most women probably weren’t publicly humiliated first.”

Silence.

Ryder studied her face carefully.

Freya looked away first.

The forest suddenly felt colder.

“Can you fight?” he asked.

“What?”

“Simple question.”

“No.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

Before she could ask what he meant, Ryder suddenly grabbed the back of her cloak and pulled her sideways.

A dagger flew past her head.

Freya gasped.

Three wolves emerged from the trees moments later.

Rogues.

Their scents hit instantly—blood, dirt, and rot.

The tallest one grinned when he saw Ryder.

“Well,” he drawled. “Look what we found.”

The other rogue’s eyes landed on Freya immediately.

“Pretty little thing.”

Freya’s stomach twisted.

Ryder stepped slightly in front of her.

Small movement.

But she noticed it.

The rogues noticed too.

“That yours?” one asked mockingly.

Ryder’s expression didn’t change. “Leave.”

The rogues laughed.

“You don’t rule these woods, Prince.”

Prince.

So the rumors were true.

The tallest rogue sniffed the air suddenly before staring harder at Freya.

“…wait.”

His expression shifted.

Confused.

Then hungry.

“That scent…”

Freya stiffened immediately.

Ryder noticed.

The atmosphere changed instantly.

Dangerous.

“What about it?” Ryder asked quietly.

The rogue’s grin widened slowly. “You don’t smell like a normal Omega.”

Freya’s pulse spiked.

Ryder’s gaze slid toward her.

Sharp.

Interested.

The rogue took a step forward. “Where’d you find her?”

Ryder didn’t answer.

The rogue smiled wider. “Maybe we should take a closer look.”

Big mistake.

The air exploded.

Freya barely saw Ryder move.

One second he stood beside her—

the next, the rogue was flying backward hard enough to crack a tree.

The other two shifted instantly.

Huge wolves lunged toward Ryder.

Freya stumbled backward in panic.

Everything happened too fast.

Growling.

Snapping teeth.

Mud spraying beneath claws.

Ryder moved differently than any werewolf she had ever seen.

No hesitation.

No wasted motion.

Pure violence.

One wolf tried to bite his throat.

Ryder caught its jaws with one hand.

One hand.

Freya stared in horror as he forced the wolf backward before slamming it into the ground hard enough to shake the earth.

The second wolf rushed him from behind.

Ryder turned and drove the blade directly into its neck.

Blood splattered across his face.

He didn’t even blink.

The last rogue scrambled up from the dirt, breathing heavily now.

Fear replaced arrogance instantly.

“You’re insane,” he spat.

Ryder tilted his head slightly. “You’re still here.”

The rogue ran.

Actually ran.

Freya blinked.

She had never seen rogues afraid before.

Ryder watched the trees for several seconds before finally lowering the blade.

Silence returned slowly.

Freya realized her hands were shaking.

Ryder looked back at her.

“You okay?”

The question startled her more than the fight.

“…I think so.”

“You think so?”

“I just watched you almost kill three people.”

“Two.”

“That’s not better.”

A pause.

Then unexpectedly—

Ryder laughed.

Not loudly.

But real.

Freya stared at him.

“You can laugh?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Disappointed?”

“A little.”

Another almost-smile.

Then his expression faded again.

“You shouldn’t stay out here.”

Freya looked around uneasily. “I don’t exactly have options.”

“You do now.”

“What does that mean?”

Ryder started walking deeper into the forest.

Freya frowned. “Wait.”

He didn’t stop.

“Seriously?” she called after him. “That’s your communication style?”

Still nothing.

Freya looked behind her at the broken wagon and dead rogues.

Then at the dark forest ahead.

Wonderful.

She hurried after him.

“You know, normal people usually explain things.”

Ryder’s voice came from ahead. “I’m not normal people.”

Fair point.

Branches snapped beneath Freya’s boots as she followed him through the trees.

The deeper they went, the stranger the forest became.

Massive claw marks scarred tree trunks.

Bones littered the ground in places.

Old warning symbols were carved into stone.

Freya swallowed nervously. “Do you live out here alone?”

“Yes.”

“That’s… concerning.”

“It’s peaceful.”

“For you maybe.”

Ryder glanced back briefly. “You talk a lot when nervous.”

Freya crossed her arms. “You murder people when annoyed. We all cope differently.”

Another tiny smile.

Goddess.

Why was that weirdly attractive?

Freya immediately hated herself for the thought.

Her mate bond with Logan still existed.

Broken and painful, but there.

And Ryder—

Ryder felt dangerous in every possible way.

Not just physically.

Emotionally too.

Like getting close to him would ruin a person permanently.

After another twenty minutes, the trees finally opened.

Freya stopped walking.

A massive black stone fortress stood against the mountainside ahead of them.

Not ruins.

An actual fortress.

Torchlights burned along towering walls.

Her eyes widened. “You live THERE?”

Ryder looked mildly confused by her shock. “Where else would I live?”

“I don’t know. A cave? Something horrifying?”

“That’s offensive.”

Freya looked at him flatly. “You literally live on Forbidden Mountain.”

“Fair.”

As they approached the gates, several armed Lycans appeared above the walls instantly.

Every single one froze when they saw Ryder.

Then their eyes shifted toward Freya.

Tension spread immediately.

One of the guards frowned. “Who’s that?”

Ryder kept walking.

“A guest.”

The guard looked alarmed. “A what?”

Freya suddenly had a very bad feeling about this.

Especially when the guard muttered quietly:

“…the prince brought home a woman?”