EloquentInk

Bloodmoon:Rising – A Werewolf Thriller




Caleb Mercer has spent his life feeling like an outsider in his quiet mountain town, but nothing could have prepared him for the truth—he's not just different. He's dangerous.




On the night of his eighteenth birthday, the full moon ignites a change deep in his bones, unleashing the beast hidden in his bloodline. Wracked with pain and driven by a primal hunger, he barely survives his first shift. When he wakes, the town is buzzing with whispers of slaughtered cattle and strange tracks in the woods. Caleb knows the truth—he lost control, and next time, it might be a person instead.




But he's not the only predator in the forest.




Something older, stronger, and far more ruthless is watching him, waiting. A rival pack has sensed his transformation, and they see him as a threat. As Caleb struggles to control the monster within, he's thrown into a deadly game of survival—one where the only rule is hunt or be hunted.




The moon is rising. The blood is calling.




And if Caleb doesn't master his instincts soon, he won't live long enough to see the next full moon.

Bloodmoon:Rising

The next day, Misty Pines felt wrong.

The sky was too still. The air too heavy. People moved slower, spoke softer, as if their bodies sensed the tension even if their minds couldn't name it.

Caleb wandered the halls of school in a daze, half-listening to conversations, half-feeling the pull of something just outside the edge of reality.

It was like the forest was breathing. Watching.

Leaning against the lockers at the far end of the hall, black leather jacket zipped to her throat, dark red hair in a loose braid. She looked up—and smiled.

But there was something wrong with her smile.

"Caleb Cross," she said, stepping forward like they were old friends. "Finally."

"Not yet," she replied. "But I know you. I've been watching."

That should've been creepy. It was creepy. But her voice was smooth, warm, almost hypnotic. Something in him stirred—recognition, maybe. Or something darker.

"I'm Sylas," she said. "Well, that's what people call me. Names are fluid when you've lived as many lives as I have."

So she leaned closer and whispered, "The Red Howl is watching too."

She winked. "Thought I'd give you a friendly heads-up. They don't like being ignored."

And then she was gone—vanishing down the hall like smoke in the wind.

That night, Caleb returned to the sheriff's office. Dawson had cleared out his back room, turning it into something between a war room and a library of the occult. Maps, red strings, crime scene photos. Books bound in leather that crackled when opened.

"I've got a name," Caleb said. "Sylas. She's one of them. I saw it in her eyes."

Dawson sighed. "They're starting to infiltrate the town. Makes sense. They're preparing."

"A test," said Ronan, stepping in from the back. "To see what kind of wolf you'll become. Loyal to them—or a threat."

Caleb shook his head. "I'm not one of them."

"You're not one of us either," Ronan said grimly. "Not yet. But they'll keep sending more. And next time? It won't be a conversation."

Outside, the wind howled through the trees.

And in the forest beyond the town, something answered back.

Chapter Thirteen: Teeth Beneath Smiles