Chapter 4 The blood of the Alpha

The dawn broke with a fierce chill that cut through the thick forest surrounding Moon Court. Scarlett stood barefoot on the cold earth, her breath rising in silver clouds. Around her, the pack gathered in a tight circle, muscles taut, eyes sharp with anticipation. This was the day of the Rite of Strength - a sacred trial where warriors proved their worth, loyalty, and strength to the Alpha.

The air hummed with raw energy. The scent of pine and wild musk filled Scarlett's senses, grounding her. Her wolf instincts flickered beneath her skin - alert, hungry, fierce. Today wasn't just a test for the younger fighters; it was a message to her greedy uncle and the divided factions. Scarlett was no longer a lost Luna, but a force to be reckoned with.

Crimson stepped forward, his wolf form shimmering into view beside her human one. His growl rumbled low and steady. "The pack watches, Scarlett. Your strength will echo through the bloodline."

She nodded, steel in her gaze. This was her moment - not just to survive, but to command.

The first challenger stepped forward - a towering Omega, eyes burning with envy. The crowd fell silent. The fight began.

The morning mist curled through the trees like breath from a sleeping giant. Scarlett sat on a stone bench near the ritual springs, silent, her hand wrapped in fresh bandages. The vision haunted her - Calen, her twin, alive and cloaked in darkness. His eyes had not been his own.

What had he become?

She had no memory of him from childhood. Only vague dreams of laughter that turned to screams. She once thought the gaps in her memory were just trauma, but now she understood: something... or someone had stolen those memories.

And the rogue. The stranger who called to her wolf with an ache that hurt more than any blade. His place in the vision was undeniable. Not just as a mate, but as a soldier beside her. A shield. A sword. Maybe even a threat.

Scarlett exhaled slowly, rising to her feet.

It was time to summon her circle.

The Council of Six

Under the ancient Oath Tree, she called forth her most trusted - and tested - wolves. They arrived in silence, each chosen not just for loyalty but for what they represented.

Crimson, her second-in-command. Tactical mind. Quiet rage.

Alina, archer and truth-seeker. Sharp-tongued, unafraid of Scarlett's rise.

Jareth, half-wolf, half-mage. Scarred by the old wars, bound by prophecy.

Mael, an omega turned assassin. Swift, unseen, unshakable.

Thorn, a reformed traitor. Once allied with Varin, now her most dangerous weapon.

The Rogue, still unnamed. Still watched. But chosen.

She faced them, voice cold steel. "My brother lives. My uncle knows. And war is coming whether we bleed now or later."

Crimson crossed his arms. "Do we move first?"

Scarlett nodded. "We strike the mines. Cut off his silver supply. Without it, he can't forge moonsteel weapons."

Alina's brow rose. "That's deep in Eclipse Pack territory."

"That's why we won't just strike it," Scarlett said, eyes gleaming. "We'll collapse it."

Later That Night – The Rogue's Name

The moon bathed the springs in silver. Scarlett walked the perimeter of camp, the rogue trailing a few paces behind.

"You've barely spoken since the vision," he said at last.

She stopped. Turned. "You were in it."

He nodded. "So were you."

"What's your name?" she asked, folding her arms.

He hesitated.

"Names have power," she added, eyes narrowing.

"My mother named me Kaelen, before Varin's wolves burned our home." His voice dropped. "She called me the lost howl."

Scarlett inhaled slowly. Kaelen. Too close to Calen. A cruel twist of fate... or another omen.

"You will ride with us into Eclipse territory," she said.

Kaelen inclined his head. "To the end."

"Don't say that," she murmured. "The end isn't coming. I'm rewriting it."

He stepped forward, slowly, deliberately. "Then let me be your sword. Your shadow. Even your shield, if you'll have me."

Their eyes locked. Not mates. Not yet. But something deeper rooted itself in the soil between them. Not passion. Not submission.

An alliance of storms.