The Moon Mark

The full moon hung low in the sky, its silver glow filtering through the towering pines of Blackthorn Hollow. The night air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the distant howl of wolves, a haunting melody that sent a shiver down Elara Sinclair's spine. She tightened her grip on the strap of her leather satchel and quickened her pace. The dense forest was no place to be alone after dark, not with the creatures that prowled in the shadows.

She wasn't supposed to be here. Her grandmother had warned her time and time again—stay out of the woods when the moon is full. But tonight, something had drawn her in, something primal and unrelenting, like an invisible tether pulling her toward an unknown fate. She had ignored the warnings, ignoring the deep, instinctual fear clawing at her gut.

A branch snapped behind her.

Elara froze. Her breath hitched as she turned slowly, her heart pounding against her ribs. The wind whispered through the trees, but she saw nothing beyond the endless expanse of darkness.

Then, she heard it. A low, guttural growl.

Her pulse thundered. She took a step back, but before she could react, a blur of motion erupted from the shadows. A massive figure lunged toward her, knocking her off her feet and pinning her to the cold forest floor. She gasped, her hands instinctively pushing against the iron grip that held her down.

"Let me go!" she spat, struggling against the weight of her captor.

The figure above her was no ordinary man. He was tall, his body radiating raw power, muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike. The moonlight revealed sharp, chiseled features—raven-black hair falling over piercing silver eyes that glowed unnaturally in the dark. His scent was intoxicating, a mix of earth, cedarwood, and something primal that made her head spin.

"Elara." His voice was a rough whisper, her name rolling off his tongue like a promise laced with danger.

She stiffened. He knew her name.

"How—" Her voice caught in her throat as recognition dawned.

Kieran Draven. The Alpha of the Bloodfang Pack. The one everyone feared.

A shudder ran through her. She had heard stories—tales of his ruthlessness, his dominance, his unrelenting control over his pack. He ruled with an iron fist, taking what he wanted without question. And now, he was here. Holding her down as if she belonged to him.

"You shouldn't be out here." His grip on her wrists loosened, but he didn't move away. Instead, his gaze lingered on her face, intense and unreadable. "The woods are dangerous."

She swallowed hard, refusing to let him see her fear. "I can take care of myself."

His lips curved into a smirk, but there was no humor in it. "Is that so?"

Before she could respond, a second presence emerged from the darkness, his approach silent as the night. Unlike Kieran, this man's movements were fluid, effortless, like a shadow slipping through reality. His golden-brown eyes locked onto her, filled with something that made her chest tighten.

Lucien Vale. The rogue Beta. The man who had been exiled from his pack years ago.

Elara had seen him before, lingering in the outskirts of the town, watching from a distance but never coming too close. There had always been something forbidden about him, something magnetic that she couldn't explain. Now, as he stood before her, his gaze flickering between her and Kieran, she felt the air shift with an almost tangible energy.

"Let her go, Kieran," Lucien said, his voice calm but edged with steel.

Kieran didn't move. His body remained tense, his jaw clenched. "She doesn't belong to you."

"And she doesn't belong to you either." Lucien took a step closer. "Or are you claiming her?"

Elara's breath caught in her throat. The weight of their words hung heavy in the air. Claiming. She knew what it meant in their world. A bond that couldn't be broken, a fate that couldn't be undone.

Kieran's gaze flickered to hers, something dark and unreadable swirling in his eyes. "She's under my protection."

Lucien's expression hardened. "Protection or possession?"

A growl rumbled from Kieran's chest, low and warning, but Lucien didn't back down. The tension between them was thick, the kind of tension that could shatter with the wrong move.

Elara pushed herself up, breaking the standoff. "I don't need either of you deciding my fate."

Lucien's eyes softened as they met hers. "Then leave, Elara. Before it's too late."

She hesitated, her body betraying her mind. There was something here, something pulling her toward both of them, a connection she didn't understand but felt deep in her bones. Kieran's presence was overwhelming, suffocating in its intensity, while Lucien's was a slow-burning fire that lured her in with promises of something forbidden.

She didn't move.

Kieran stepped closer, his fingers brushing against her wrist, sending a shockwave of heat through her. "You feel it too," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Don't deny it."

Lucien exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. "She deserves a choice."

A choice. But how could she choose between the two wolves who threatened to consume her? One, the powerful Alpha who would tear the world apart to claim her, and the other, the rogue who burned with a passion that defied fate itself.

Elara took a shaky breath, her heart hammering. The night was only just beginning, and already, she was caught in the middle of a battle she didn't know how to escape. But deep down, she knew one thing for certain.

She was no longer just Elara Sinclair.

She was theirs.

And that terrified her more than anything.