Shadows of the Moon

Dawn bled slowly over the mountains, painting the mist in shades of silver and ash.

Aiden Cross stood at the edge of the woods, bare-chested, trembling. The last traces of his transformation clung to him - mud streaked across his skin, blood under his fingernails, and a distant ache in his bones that didn't feel entirely human.

He could still taste the night - the forest, the blood, the wild.

And the freedom.

It terrified him.

The sound of rushing water drew his attention. He followed it down to a narrow stream where he knelt, staring at his reflection in the rippling surface. For a long moment, he didn't recognize himself. His eyes glowed faintly gold beneath the morning light.

He plunged his face into the cold water, gasping as it hit him like knives. "Get a grip, Aiden," he whispered hoarsely. "You're still you."

But deep down, he wasn't sure he believed that.

He found an abandoned cabin near the clearing - half-rotten, roof sagging, but with a few forgotten clothes inside. He pulled on an old flannel and jeans, wincing at the bruises along his ribs.

When he finally stumbled back into town, the stares began immediately. People whispered from behind cracked windows, their fear thick enough to taste. News of the murders had spread again - and rumors always traveled faster than truth in Black Hollow.

By the time he reached the station, Chief Marlowe was waiting for him.

"You look like hell," the chief said, his expression unreadable.

"Rough night," Aiden muttered.

"I'll say. You disappeared for twelve hours. Harper said you stormed out after midnight, and now..." Marlowe slid a photo across the desk - another body, mangled in the woods. "We found this two miles from your motel."

Aiden's chest tightened. "You think I-"

"I think I've known you long enough to know when you're lying," Marlowe interrupted. His voice was low but steady. "And right now, I don't know what to believe."

Aiden's hands curled into fists. "You think I killed that man?"

"I think something's wrong with you," Marlowe said softly. "You look... different. Pale. Wild-eyed. Like your father did before-"

"Don't." Aiden's voice cracked like thunder.

The chief studied him for a long moment before sighing. "You need to tell me what's going on, Aiden. Off the record."

Aiden hesitated. He wanted to tell him everything - the attack, the curse, the transformation - but how could he? The truth sounded like madness.

"I'm working it out," he said finally. "Just trust me."

Marlowe shook his head. "Trust doesn't work like that, son."

That evening, Aiden sat alone in his motel room, the weight of suspicion pressing down on him. The pendant he'd found in the woods lay on the table beside his gun, glinting faintly under the lamplight.

He couldn't stop replaying Lyra's words in his head: The curse doesn't choose the willing - it chooses the broken.

His phone buzzed. Unknown number.

He answered. "Cross."

A woman's voice came through - calm, familiar. "You shouldn't be in town when the moon rises."

"Lyra," he said. "You're the last person I want to hear from."

"And yet I'm the only one who can keep you alive."

"I don't need your help."

"You already do. The pack knows who you are now. They're moving."

Aiden's jaw tightened. "Let them come."

She laughed softly. "Still pretending you're just a man with a badge? The hunter doesn't realize he's already part of the hunt."

Before he could reply, the line went dead.

He stared at the phone, pulse quickening.

Then came a sound from outside - a soft thud, followed by the creak of the motel's porch.

Aiden's instincts kicked in. He grabbed his gun, moving silently toward the window.

A shadow shifted just beyond the glass - large, quick. Then came another. And another.

Wolves.

The first one leapt through the window before he could react. Glass exploded inward. Aiden hit the floor as the creature snarled, claws raking across the carpet.

He fired twice - bullets slamming into the beast's shoulder. It staggered, snarling, eyes glowing gold. Then it lunged again.

Aiden rolled aside, grabbed the lamp, and smashed it across its head. Electricity sparked, and the room filled with the stench of ozone and blood.

Before he could reload, two more wolves crashed through the door.

Aiden backed against the wall, heart hammering, gun raised.

"Come on, then," he hissed.

But they didn't attack.

They circled him instead - low growls vibrating through the air, like thunder in their throats. Then, from the doorway, a figure appeared.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Eyes burning like molten gold.

The Alpha.

Aiden knew it instantly. The air shifted around the man - heavy, electric, commanding. He wore no shirt, only a necklace of bones and teeth that clinked softly when he moved.

"Detective Cross," the Alpha said, voice deep and rumbling. "I've waited a long time for you."

Aiden leveled his gun. "You're not going to wait much longer."

The Alpha smiled. "You're brave. Like your father."

"Don't you dare talk about him."

"Oh, I will," the Alpha said, stepping closer. "Because he was one of us. He was my brother before he betrayed the pack."

Aiden's pulse raced. "You're lying."

"Ask your blood," the Alpha said. "It remembers."

He moved faster than sight - one second across the room, the next, his hand wrapped around Aiden's throat. The pressure was crushing.

"You can't run from what you are," the Alpha growled. "You are born of the Hollow. You are ours."

Then something inside Aiden snapped - not in fear, but in rage.

He twisted free with impossible strength, shoving the Alpha back. His eyes flashed gold, his voice deepened.

"I'm not yours."

He punched the Alpha square in the jaw. The sound echoed through the motel like a gunshot.

The wolves snarled and lunged, but Aiden was faster now - moving on instinct, half man, half beast. He fought like something ancient, primal. The world slowed around him, every heartbeat a rhythm of survival.

He shot one wolf, slashed another with his knife, then kicked the Alpha hard enough to send him crashing into the wall.

The Alpha laughed even as blood trickled from his mouth. "Yes. There it is. The Hollow in your bones."

Then, before Aiden could strike again, the Alpha and his wolves vanished into mist - fading like ghosts under the flickering lights.

Aiden stood trembling, covered in blood and dust, his breath ragged.

Outside, the sirens were already wailing.

He grabbed his jacket and bolted out the back, disappearing into the woods just as police cars skidded into the motel lot.

Hours later, he found Lyra waiting for him by the old church ruins.

"You look like hell," she said.

"You have no idea."

She nodded toward his arm. The wound had healed completely - smooth skin where the blood had once burned.

"It's begun," she said quietly. "Your body's accepting the curse."

"I don't want it."

She looked at him with something like pity. "Neither did I."

He turned away, running a hand through his hair. "That Alpha - he said my father betrayed them."

Lyra's expression hardened. "He did. Your father wanted to end the curse. To destroy the magic that binds the Hollow. But betrayal comes with a price. He was hunted... and he died for it."

"And me?" Aiden asked. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Finish what he started."

She stepped closer, her voice almost a whisper. "But to do that, you'll have to embrace what you are. The curse isn't just a punishment-it's a key. Only one born of both worlds can break it."

Aiden's throat tightened. "You're saying I have to become the thing I've spent my life hunting."

"Yes," she said simply. "Sometimes the only way to destroy a monster... is to become one."

The forest wind rose around them, carrying distant howls.

Lyra's eyes flicked toward the sound. "They're moving again. The Alpha won't stop until you choose-pack or prey."

Aiden looked out into the mist, his mind a storm of duty, guilt, and rage.

"I'm not choosing," he said. "Not yet."

She smiled faintly. "Then the moon will choose for you."

Later that night, Aiden found himself back at the edge of town, drawn by the scent of something familiar - blood. He followed it through an alley behind the diner and froze.

A young woman lay on the ground, her neck torn open, still breathing shallowly. Her eyes fluttered open when he knelt beside her.

"Help me..." she gasped.

He reached for his phone to call it in - but the scent of blood hit him like lightning. His veins burned. His teeth ached.

The wolf inside him wanted.

"No," he whispered, clutching his head. "Not this."

His heart raced. His vision flickered gold. The urge was unbearable - the hunger crawling up his throat, whispering to taste, to kill, to feed.

He staggered back, fists shaking.

Then Lyra's voice echoed faintly in his memory: You can control it. Or it will control you.

Aiden dropped to his knees beside the woman again. With trembling hands, he tore his sleeve and pressed it against her wound.

"Stay with me," he muttered. "You're not dying tonight."

Sirens wailed in the distance - getting closer.

When the paramedics arrived, Aiden was gone. Only a blood-soaked piece of flannel remained, and a faint mark of claws in the concrete.

As the moon climbed over Black Hollow, Aiden stood alone on the ridge overlooking the valley. His breath came out in clouds, his eyes burning gold in the silver light.

The town below was quiet. For now.

He knew what came next - the war between what he was and what he had to become.

Behind him, Lyra appeared from the shadows, her gaze fixed on him.

"You saved her," she said.

"I almost didn't."

"That's the point," Lyra replied. "You're walking the edge between man and monster. Stay balanced... or the Hollow will claim you completely."

Aiden turned toward her, the night wind in his hair. "Then teach me."

Her lips curved in a faint, knowing smile. "Welcome to the rebirth, Detective."

And somewhere deep in the forest, the Alpha's howl answered hers - two forces of the same curse, bound by blood and fate, ready for the storm that would decide the future of the Black Hollow Pack.

Blood Moon Rising

The night was a slow burn of silver and shadow. The moon-bloated, crimson-edged, and unforgiving-hung above Black Hollow like a silent witness to the sins buried beneath its soil. Aiden Cross stood in the ruins of the old chapel, his gun trembling in his hand, the scent of blood heavy in the air.

His shirt was torn at the shoulder where claws had grazed him, the wound still pulsing faintly with heat. The mark the beast had left behind throbbed beneath his skin like a second heartbeat. Every nerve screamed, every instinct warred-run, fight, howl.

He could feel it now. The thing inside him.

Not just fear. Not just rage. Something older. Wilder. Hungry.

The floorboards creaked behind him.

"Put the gun down, Detective."

Aiden froze. That voice was calm, smooth, and unbearably familiar. He turned slowly to find Sergeant Evelyn Marks, his former partner, framed by the broken doorway, her flashlight cutting through the mist. She looked both furious and afraid, her badge gleaming like a silver accusation.

"You've got blood all over you," she said softly. "Tell me it's not yours."

He tried to answer but words caught in his throat. All he could manage was a hoarse whisper.

"It's... complicated."

"Complicated?" Evelyn stepped closer. "Aiden, half the precinct thinks you've lost it. You vanish for days, show up at a murder scene before we even get the call, and now you're standing in a chapel surrounded by claw marks-again." Her voice cracked slightly. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

He wanted to tell her. He wanted to say everything-the pack, the curse, the beast clawing its way through his mind. But how could he make her believe what even he barely understood?

"There's something here," he muttered. "Something you can't see. Not unless it wants you to."

She frowned. "Aiden, this isn't one of your nightmares. You're bleeding. You need a hospital."

He laughed, low and bitter. "Hospitals can't fix what's wrong with me."

Evelyn's eyes softened, her hand hovering near his arm. "Then tell me who can."

Before he could answer, a sound rolled through the night-low, guttural, echoing through the trees like the earth itself was growling. Evelyn froze, flashlight snapping toward the darkness.

"What was that?" she whispered.

Aiden's pulse quickened. He knew that sound. He'd heard it before-the night everything went wrong, the night he'd been marked.

"Get back," he hissed. "Now."

The growl came again, closer this time. Then, out of the mist, two glowing eyes appeared-amber and merciless. Aiden raised his weapon, but it was too late. The creature lunged from the shadows, all muscle and fury, slamming him to the ground.

Evelyn screamed. Shots rang out.

Aiden rolled, the beast's claws scraping the floor inches from his face. He kicked upward, hard, catching it in the jaw. The creature snarled and retreated into the shadows-but not before Aiden saw its face.

It was human.

Partially.

A man twisted by the curse, his mouth still bleeding from where fangs had torn through flesh.

The moonlight caught his eyes, and Aiden felt his stomach drop.

"Jacob..." he breathed.

Jacob Thorn. The captain of the Black Hollow Pack. The one who'd spared Aiden the night of the first attack.

Now he understood why.

Evelyn was still shouting, still firing into the dark, but the bullets barely slowed the monster down. The creature-Jacob-roared and lunged again, but Aiden stood his ground this time. Something inside him snapped loose-control, humanity, fear-and all that was left was instinct.

He caught Jacob's arm mid-swing, the force vibrating through his bones, and threw him across the chapel like he weighed nothing.

Evelyn's flashlight fell to the floor, rolling to a stop as Aiden straightened. His vision blurred at the edges, veins pulsing with something electric and alien. His senses sharpened. He could hear her heartbeat, smell the gunpowder, taste the fear.

The transformation had begun.

"Aiden..." Evelyn whispered, stepping back. "Your eyes..."

He blinked, and the world snapped into a new kind of clarity-every sound louder, every scent sharper, every heartbeat like thunder in his skull.

Jacob laughed from across the room, wiping blood from his mouth. "You feel it, don't you, brother? The pull of the moon. The call of the Hollow."

"I'm nothing like you."

"Oh, but you are," Jacob growled. "You were born of our blood. The curse was never placed on you-it was awakened."

Aiden felt the words cut through him like a blade.

Born of our blood.

It all made sense now. His mother's strange illness. The night terrors. The whispers about his father, the man no one ever spoke of.

"Why me?" he rasped.

Jacob smiled, fangs glinting. "Because you were the one meant to break the curse-or become it."

He lunged again, faster than human eyes could follow. Aiden met him halfway, their bodies colliding with a sound that cracked the pews. Evelyn fired one last shot before the gun was ripped from her hand by the sheer force of impact.

It wasn't a fight anymore. It was chaos. Claws, teeth, bone, fury.

When the dust settled, the chapel was silent again. Jacob was gone, leaving only blood and splinters in his wake. Evelyn lay against the wall, dazed but alive. And Aiden stood in the center of the wreckage, breathing hard, his shirt shredded, his wounds already closing.

He looked at his hands. They were trembling-not from fear, but from power. The curse wasn't consuming him. It was changing him.

Evelyn's voice was a whisper. "Aiden... what are you?"

He didn't answer. He couldn't.

Because even he didn't know anymore.

The next morning, Black Hollow was painted in fog and whispers.

Word of the "animal attack" spread through town faster than wildfire. The locals muttered about wolves, curses, demons-depending on who you asked. The police had sealed off the chapel, but Aiden knew it wouldn't matter. The pack would come again.

He stood at his bathroom sink, staring at his reflection. His eyes looked normal now-blue-gray, tired, human. But the voice in his head whispered otherwise.

You can't hide from what you are.

He gripped the edge of the sink until his knuckles whitened. "Shut up."

The voice only laughed.

Evelyn arrived a few hours later, face pale, her jacket still dusted with dried blood. She closed the door behind her and didn't speak until she was sure they were alone.

"I told the captain you fought off a wolf," she said quietly. "He bought it-for now. But you need to tell me what's happening."

Aiden turned away. "If I tell you, you'll never see me the same."

"Try me."

He hesitated, then finally met her gaze. "I'm one of them."

Evelyn's lips parted. "One of... the wolves?"

He nodded once. "But I'm not theirs. Not yet."

For a long moment, neither spoke. Then she did something he didn't expect-she stepped closer, her voice trembling but steady.

"Then we find a way to stop it."

He blinked. "You don't understand. This isn't a disease, Evie. It's a curse."

"Then we break it."

Her certainty struck something deep in him-a fragile thread of hope he didn't realize he still had.

He nodded slowly. "There's a name I found in the old chapel's records. A witch-Mara Blackthorn. She was executed here centuries ago. The curse started with her."

"And maybe it ends with her too," Evelyn said.

They spent the rest of the day digging through old archives, tracing every clue, every faded note that mentioned the Black Hollow curse. Each lead pointed to the same thing: the Blackthorn Grimoire-a book rumored to hold the original spell that bound wolf and man together.

But it had been lost. Burned.

At least, that's what history claimed.

That night, as the fog thickened again, Aiden's dreams burned with visions of fire and moonlight-wolves running through the forest, a woman's voice chanting in a language older than time.

When he woke, his hand was clenched around something cold. A locket. One he'd never seen before. Inside was a name scratched in silver:

Mara Blackthorn.

By dawn, Aiden and Evelyn were already on the road, heading toward the northern edge of Black Hollow-the part locals called The Wastes. It was a place even the bravest avoided, a place the pack claimed as their sacred ground.

The road curved through dead trees and half-buried crosses, the sky bleeding pale gray. Aiden drove in silence, every sense on alert.

Evelyn glanced at him. "You sure we'll find anything out here?"

"No," he said honestly. "But if the curse started here, it's where it'll end."

They reached the ruins of an old stone manor just as the sun slipped behind the hills. The air was colder here, heavier, thick with the scent of ash and decay.

Inside, they found carvings on the walls-symbols like the ones in Aiden's dreams. At the center of the main hall, buried beneath years of dust and ruin, was a trapdoor.

Aiden's pulse quickened. "Help me move this."

Together, they pried it open. A cold gust of air rushed upward, carrying the faintest sound of whispering.

Evelyn aimed her flashlight downward. A staircase spiraled into darkness.

"Ladies first?" she joked weakly.

Aiden smirked. "You wish."

They descended into the shadows.

At the bottom, they found a room lined with shelves-bones, jars, relics, and one ancient chest wrapped in rusted chains. Aiden stepped forward, his hand trembling slightly as he touched the lock. It crumbled beneath his fingers, the metal rotted with age.

Inside lay a book bound in wolfskin.

The Blackthorn Grimoire.

Evelyn whispered, "We actually found it."

Aiden nodded slowly, but his heart was pounding. The moment he touched it, the air shifted-the whispers turned into words.

"Blood of the cursed. Son of the Hollow."

The floor shook. The walls groaned.

Evelyn grabbed his arm. "Aiden, what's happening?"

He looked up, eyes glowing faintly gold. "She knows I'm here."

The last thing he heard before the lights went out was a woman's voice, soft and cruel.

"Welcome home, my child."

The Witch's Awakening

Darkness pressed in from every corner of the chamber. Aiden's pulse thundered in his ears, his senses alive in ways he had only glimpsed during his transformations. The faint gold glow in his eyes illuminated the room just enough for him to see the shelves of bones, jars, and the Blackthorn Grimoire, now open as if it had been waiting for him.

Evelyn's flashlight quivered in her hands. "Aiden... I think we made a mistake coming down here."

He didn't answer. Every instinct screamed danger, but he couldn't look away. The whispers of the book had grown louder, shifting from indecipherable murmurs into words he could feel vibrating in his chest:

"Blood of the cursed. Son of the Hollow. Heed the call."

Aiden swallowed hard. The room felt alive, breathing with him, pressing against his skin, tugging at his veins. The faint pulse at his arm-the mark-burned fiercely. He gritted his teeth. "We need to know," he muttered, more to himself than to Evelyn. "We have to know everything."

The book trembled as he leaned closer. Pages flipped on their own, stopping on a section written in flowing silver ink:

"To awaken the curse fully, the heir must face the progenitor. Only in blood and fire shall the Hollow rise again."

A cold gust whipped through the chamber, extinguishing Evelyn's flashlight. Darkness pressed close, and the whispers sharpened into a single voice, clear and cruel:

"Welcome home, my child."

Aiden's spine stiffened. His wolf instincts howled inside him-not in hunger, but in recognition. He was not alone. The air shimmered, thickening as if reality itself had become liquid.

From the shadows, a figure materialized: Mara Blackthorn, her form half-human, half-wolf, translucent yet terrifyingly real. Her eyes burned with silver light, and her voice carried the weight of centuries.

"You are the heir," she said softly, each word dragging through his skull like chains. "I have waited long for you. Your blood... it calls to me."

Aiden stepped back instinctively, but his body refused to obey fully. His heart thudded in tandem with the pulse of the chamber, the wolf in him stirring, recognizing something ancient and familiar.

"I'm no one's heir," he said, trying to sound braver than he felt. "I'm a man-a detective. I protect people, not... this." He gestured vaguely at her, at the chamber, at the book.

"You are more than you know," Mara intoned. "The Hollow is in your veins. It flows through your bloodline. Your father... he tried to resist, and he failed. You will not."

"Then I'll fight you," Aiden growled. He didn't know if it was the man or the wolf speaking.

Mara's lips curled into a smile. "Good. You must fight. Only through struggle will you awaken. Only through pain will the curse accept you-or destroy you."

The chamber shivered violently. Dust rained from the ceiling, jars clattered to the floor, and Evelyn screamed, gripping Aiden's arm.

"We need to go-now!" she yelled.

Aiden looked at her, torn. Leave now and risk never understanding the curse, or face the witch and unlock the truth buried in his blood. The wolf inside him urged forward, whispering, embrace it... or be consumed.

He stepped closer to Mara, who raised her hands. The book glowed, silver symbols rising from the pages like fire. Whispers filled the chamber-thousands of voices crying, laughing, screaming. Aiden staggered but didn't stop.

"Show me," he demanded. "Show me the curse. Show me everything!"

Mara's form blurred, and suddenly the chamber dissolved into visions.

He saw the origins of the Black Hollow Pack: villagers burned at the stake, a witch defying the crown, wolves howling at silver moons, a pact sealed in blood. He saw his father, young and defiant, attempting to end the curse with a ritual. He saw the night his father had died-blood everywhere, the pack howling, and a young Aiden screaming in a cradle, untouched but marked.

Every memory, every secret, every betrayal collided inside him. His wolf surged forward in recognition, howling into the void of centuries, the howl echoing with the pain of ancestors.

Evelyn's voice broke through the vision. "Aiden! Snap out of it!"

He blinked, staggering back, breathing ragged. Mara's form solidified again. "Now you understand. You cannot fight the Hollow as a man alone. You must embrace what is yours."

"I won't become like them!" he shouted. "I won't!"

"Then you will die," she said simply.

The chamber shuddered. The Grimoire's pages flipped violently, spilling silver light in every direction. Shadows swirled, twisting into forms-wolves, humans, hybrids-all snarling, clawing, snapping at the edges of reality.

Aiden felt his teeth elongate, his claws sharpen. Pain tore through him as his wolf form surged against him, trying to take control. He fell to his knees, one hand on the floor, the other pressed to his chest.

"Fight it!" Evelyn yelled. "Fight it, Aiden!"

The wolf howled inside him, demanding release, power, vengeance. He felt rage, hunger, fear, grief-every primal emotion amplified. But beneath it, he felt something else. Choice.

He roared-not the wolf, not the man, but both-and slammed his fists onto the floor. The silver light recoiled as if shocked. Mara flinched, eyes narrowing.

"You... control it," she hissed, a note of respect-or perhaps surprise-in her voice.

"Yes," Aiden growled. "I am not your puppet!"

The chamber quieted. The shadows dissolved. Mara's form flickered, wavering like smoke in the wind.

"Impressive," she murmured. "But you are only beginning. The Hollow will test you at every turn. Your father... he tried to destroy it. You... you may be the one to finish it-or the one to complete it."

"What do you want from me?" Aiden demanded, chest heaving.

"Survive," Mara said, fading slowly. "Learn. Hunt. The curse will call your enemies soon. The pack is restless, your blood is ripe, and the moon rises red."

Her last words hung in the chamber as she disappeared entirely:

"The blood moon chooses its heir. Choose wisely... or be consumed."

The chamber fell silent. Evelyn looked at him, wide-eyed, shaking.

"What... what just happened?" she asked.

Aiden swallowed hard, still trembling. "I don't know. But I know one thing... the pack isn't waiting anymore. They're moving. And they're coming for me."

Evelyn nodded slowly. "Then we fight. Together."

He looked at her, seeing trust and courage mirrored in her eyes. For a moment, the wolf in him purred softly-a strange, dangerous comfort.

"Together," he agreed.

They climbed the spiral stairs back to the surface. Outside, the forest was silent except for the rustle of leaves. Aiden's senses picked up more than he intended: distant footprints, faint heartbeats, the musky smell of wolves in the distance.

"They're close," he muttered, voice low. "Closer than we thought."

Evelyn grabbed his arm. "Then we prepare. But how do you fight something that's part of you?"

He paused, staring at the woods. His pulse quickened. The wolf within growled, acknowledging the answer.

"You embrace it," he said finally. "Or we die."

The next days were a blur of training, planning, and survival. Aiden learned to control his new senses-how to channel the wolf's strength without losing his humanity, how to track and hunt, how to move silently through the forests while feeling every heartbeat around him. Evelyn stayed at his side, studying the Grimoire, marking maps, and learning everything she could about the pack.

At night, under the blood moon, Aiden practiced alone, the wolf surging, testing limits, howling into the night. He learned to control hunger, to restrain instinct, to become a hunter without succumbing to the beast.

Yet every night, Mara's words echoed: The Hollow will test you. The pack is restless. The blood moon chooses its heir.

And with each howl in the distance, he knew she was right.

One evening, deep in the forest, he tracked a lone wolf-its amber eyes glowing faintly gold. As he approached, it spoke in the same guttural tone he had heard before.

"You are his son," it said. "The heir of the Hollow. Come with us, or die in the forest like your father."

Aiden's jaw clenched. He felt the wolf inside stir with rage and hunger.

He whispered under his breath, teeth elongating: "I choose neither. I choose myself."

The wolf snarled, vanishing into mist. But Aiden knew it wouldn't be the last he saw of the pack-or the Alpha.

He turned to Evelyn, whose hands were steady, her face set with determination.

"This is only the beginning," he said.

"Then let's make sure we're ready," she replied.

Above them, the blood moon rose higher, painting the forest in crimson and silver. The Hollow was awake. The heir had awakened. And Black Hollow Pack had found its prey.