Chapter Five – Blood and Moonlight

Evandra

The next day was rain again. All day long. Evandra went out to hunt and came back to her hut with a small rabbit. She shifted outside of the hut and allowed Sage a moment to devour the rabbit. She couldn't build a fire with everything being so wet and she knew she couldn't eat the rabbit raw. Letting Sage it for them in her wolf form was the easiest way to go about it. Evandra couldn't let herself starve. She needed her strength and energy.

The night came fast and it was heavy with silence. Too heavy.

It had finally stopped raining and the storm had passed, but the air still clung with dampness. She was able to dry out some wood. Evandra sat near the weak fire she had pieced together, coaxing it to life little by little. She listened-every crackle of flame, every shifting branch outside her hut-her body tense.

Then she caught it.

The scent. Bitter, foul, carrying rot and fury. Rogues.

Her blood iced. She stood, eyes darting toward the door. They were close, circling. She could hear the low growl of one, the answering snarl of another.

Sage, Evandra whispered inwardly. They've found us.

Her wolf surged forward, claws scratching against the inside of her skin. Then let me fight.

The first rogue lunged through the stick made doorway with a guttural snarl. Evandra didn't think-she let go. Pain seared through her as bones cracked and skin split, fur bursting forth in silver-gray waves. She hit the earth on four legs, and Sage roared free.

The hut shattered around them as Sage leapt, jaws clamping down on the rogue's throat. Hot blood sprayed the dirt, and the body collapsed.

Two more came at once. Sage's teeth tore, her claws raked flesh, but they were vicious, desperate, half-mad. One caught her shoulder, ripping deep. Pain lanced through them both, but Sage only snarled, twisting to snap its spine. Another clawed at her flank, leaving fire in its wake. Sage spun, slamming her weight into him, biting down until the air stilled in his lungs.

Three corpses lay cooling in the clearing, blood staining the ground, their foul scent clinging to the air. Sage stood over them, panting, injured but unbroken.

Evandra surfaced faintly in her wolf's mind, trembling with horror and awe. We killed them...

We survived, Sage corrected, blood dripping from her jaws. And we will again.

The next night, the howls rose again. Louder. Closer.

Sage paced restlessly inside her, every nerve alight. They've brought more. They want blood. There's too many!

Evandra's heart sank. She could not face another pack alone. Her wounds still burned, her strength barely restored. Yet the rogues came, their stench filling the night, their eyes glowing like sick fire beyond the trees.

There was no choice.

Run, Sage commanded. Run until the moon breaks.

Evandra shifted, the pain of her healing wounds flaring as Sage surged into control once more. They burst from the clearing, paws pounding the forest floor, breath ragged. Behind them, rogues chased, their howls rattling the night.

On and on they ran, through tangled roots and cold streams, across hills slick with dew. Evandra's human mind screamed exhaustion, but Sage was relentless, driving them onward.

We cannot stop, Sage growled. Not until we are safe.

Hours blurred together until the scent of the rogues finally faded behind them. But another scent rose in its place-stronger, sharper. Wolf, but not rogue. The air was thick with it. Borders.

Stop, Evandra gasped inwardly. We can't-

But Sage did not stop. Her paws carried them forward, beyond the invisible line that divided packs.

And then they broke through the tree line, collapsing in the open courtyard of a great stone estate, lit silver by the moon. Wolves stirred at the edges, sentries already growling, eyes blazing at the intruder who had stumbled onto their land.

The Melting Moon Pack.

Sage wavered, bleeding from the healing wound being torn open again in her shoulder made anew, her sides heaving. Evandra barely clung to consciousness inside her.

Enemy territory, Sage whispered weakly. But alive.

The last thing Evandra saw before darkness claimed her, was a massive white wolf stepping into her sight, his eyes almost glowing green, his growl echoing through the night.

Chapter Six – A Rogue's Scent

Evandra

Her paws stumbled, body giving out as the world tilted and blurred. She could hear snarls and howls all around, but they weren't rogues anymore-these were stronger, disciplined, the sound of warriors.

Then the ground rushed up to meet her. She shifted back mid-fall, her battered human form hitting the dirt. Pain flared bright and merciless in her shoulder, her breath shallow and ragged.

Shapes closed in: wolves, sleek and powerful, hackles raised. Her vision blurred, but she caught a flash of silver-gray fur and the glint of spears tipped in moonlight. Voices shouted over her head, rough but controlled.

"She crossed the border!"

"Rogues are behind her-watch for ambush!"

Evandra tried to speak, to tell them she wasn't a threat, but blood filled her mouth, turning her words to a cough. Her body trembled, unable to shift again.

And then everything stilled.

A new presence stepped forward, and the wolves parted without hesitation. Tall, broad-shouldered, eyes piercing green catching the moonlight. His scent was cedar smoke and steel, Alpha strength rolling off him in waves.

He was looking at her.

Tristan

Tristan Walker's wolf surged the moment the scent hit him. Wildflowers and rain, fresh and intoxicating, a fragrance so vivid he could almost taste it. Thorne lunged inside him, snarling with recognition, desperate to get closer.

Mate.

The word shook him to his core. Tristan staggered, his chest tightening as the bond snapped into place. His mate. His goddess-given mate... lying broken on the dirt of his border.

But she was a rogue.

Panic coiled like a viper in his gut. Thorne raged, clawing against him. She is ours. Claim her. Protect her.

"No," Tristan ground out inwardly, forcing control. She reeks of rogue blood. She came with them, Thorne. What trick is this?

Thorne's snarl shook him. I don't care where she came from. She is ours.

Tristan turned sharply, addressing his sentries, ignoring the magnetic pull dragging him toward the woman. "Take her to the infirmary. Treat her shoulder." His voice was ice. "Bind her with rope, not silver cuffs, she is already injured enough. But I still want answers."

The wolves obeyed instantly, hauling the broken stranger to her feet. Tristan forced himself to turn away, his heart hammering as Thorne clawed for release.

He didn't dare look again.

Evandra

She drifted in and out of consciousness as rough hands carried her, as ropes tightened around her wrists. The sting burned against her skin, locking her beneath her flesh. She tried to fight, to explain, but her body was too weak.

The next she knew, she was lying on a cot, the scent of herbs and steel filling the air. Bandages wound tightly around her shoulder. The ropes were tied to the bedframe.

Her chest tightened. A prisoner.

The door opened, and she lifted her head. He stood there. The Alpha who had found her. His green eyes locked on hers.

And recognition struck like lightning.

She knew him. She remembered him standing tall at the Moon Gala, black suit gleaming, his presence commanding even from across the hall. She remembered brushing past him in the photo line, her arm slipping through Jalen's as she tried to pose for the cameras, Jalen stiff as stone beside her. Tristan Walker had been watching.

And now here he was, staring at her as though he'd seen a ghost.

His lips parted slightly, confusion warring with something raw in his gaze.

"You," Tristan murmured, more to himself than to her. "The Pearl Pack's Luna."

Evandra's throat tightened. Shame, pain, and fury tangled in her chest. "Not anymore," she whispered.

Chapter Seven – The Ropes of Truth

Tristan

Tristan shut the infirmary door behind him, the weight of his wolf pressing hard against his chest. Thorne prowled, restless, snarling with need. She is ours. Ours. Claim her now.

Tristan ignored the voice, his jaw hardening. The woman tied to the bed was no ordinary trespasser-he knew her face, her presence. She was Evandra Johnson, Luna of the Pearl Pack. Or she had been.

And now she was here. Broken. Alone. Reeking of rogue blood.

He stepped closer, his eyes sharp and unforgiving. "Why are you here?" he demanded, voice like steel. "Did you betray your pack? Are you running with rogues now?"

Evandra's breath hitched. Her lip trembled, though she tried to steel it. "I didn't-" Her voice cracked, breaking like glass. "I didn't betray anyone."

Tears welled, spilling before she could stop them. Her body shook against the restraints, shoulders curling in as the weight of his words pressed down. "I just... I just lost everything." She said it through sobs as she turned her face away from him.

Tristan's chest tightened, though he forced his face to remain impassive. Thorne raged inside him, snarling at her tears, aching to comfort her. Tristan ground his teeth. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

Evandra squeezed her eyes shut, sobs trembling through her body. "How can this even be happening? Another mate bond? So soon?" She pressed her bound hands to her face, voice breaking. "Has the pain of rejection even left me? I thought the goddess had already destroyed me."

Something flickered in Tristan's gaze, but he stayed silent, waiting.

Finally, Evandra dropped her hands, looking at him with red-rimmed eyes. Her voice steadied with something sharp, something desperate. "If you don't believe me, send your Beta to Pearl Pack. See for yourself. There's a new woman at Jalen's side already."

Tristan stiffened. Jalen. The Alpha of Pearl. The one who had stood cold beside her at the gala, a statue while his Luna had shone alone.

Evandra drew in a shuddering breath. "Go into the woods near your border. You'll find the bodies of the rogues I killed. Three of them. I fought them to survive. And you'll find the little home I built-wood, moss, scraps-everything I could manage just to keep myself alive through the storms. It's in shambles now, but I'm certain the pieces are still there."

Her eyes filled again, but she forced the words out. "I wasn't going to bother anyone. I wasn't going to trespass. I was going to live there, in between pack borders, and disappear. But the rogues... there were too many. They drove me out."

Silence thickened between them. Only her ragged breathing filled the room.

Tristan's fists clenched at his sides, torn between fury and disbelief. Evandra Johnson, the once-proud Luna, reduced to this? His wolf snarled at him, demanding he release her, protect her, claim her.

But Tristan's voice came out hard, colder than he meant. "If your words are true, they can be proven. If they are lies, you'll answer for them."

He turned sharply toward the door, though his heart thundered in his chest. He needed space-away from her scent, away from her eyes that made his wolf howl.

Behind him, tied to the bed, Evandra closed her eyes and whispered to Sage, I told the truth. The rest is in his hands now.