Luna's Revenge: Kill or be killed

The moon hung high and full over the Emberfang Packhouse, casting pale light across the frosted grounds. Every window glowed softly with candlelight. The pack was gathering for the annual Harvest Ceremony-one of the most sacred nights of the year.

Oliver adjusted the silver clasp on her ceremonial cloak, fingers trembling slightly. The wool fabric draped over her shoulders, heavy with tradition. Her dark curls were pinned up, revealing the slender line of her neck where Jason had once placed tender kisses, whispering that she was everything he needed, fated or not.

That was before.

Before the silence. Before the distance. Before her.

The oak doors creaked as she stepped into the main hall, the scent of burning sage and pine filling her nose. Familiar faces turned toward her-some smiled politely, others quickly looked away. But she walked with her chin up, spine straight, the way a Luna was meant to.

A pair of warrior wolves opened the inner doors without speaking. The great room beyond was a feast of golden light and autumn colors. Long tables were arranged in a U-shape, food steaming on silver platters. At the center, raised slightly above the rest, stood the Alpha's table. Jason sat at the head.

And Astrid Blackwood sat beside him.

Her hand rested lightly on his forearm, her lips curled into a smile that didn't quite reach her cold green eyes. The way she leaned into Jason-just enough to show closeness, not enough to spark scandal-made Oliver's stomach knot.

Still, she approached.

"Luna," one of the young servers murmured, bowing slightly.

Oliver nodded. "Thank you."

Jason stood when she reached the steps to the dais. "Oliver," he said, voice formal, but soft. Like she was an old friend. Like she wasn't the woman who had shared his bed, healed his wounds, led his pack in his absence.

She hated how her heart still stuttered at the sound of his voice.

"Alpha," she replied coolly, turning to address the table. "Pack members. I'm honored to join you all tonight."

Astrid's eyes gleamed as she tilted her head. "What a stunning cloak, Luna. It's almost as if you knew people would be watching."

"I'm always watched," Oliver said calmly, "especially by those who pretend they aren't."

A few warriors at the side table tried-and failed-to hide their smirks.

Jason cleared his throat. "Why don't you sit, Oliver? The ceremony begins shortly."

The chair beside him used to be hers. Now it was Astrid's. Oliver walked around the table and sat two seats away, beside Beta Elias, whose jaw tightened in solidarity.

"She's making a move," Elias whispered, pouring her wine. "In case it's not obvious."

"Oh, it's obvious," Oliver said, watching Astrid brush nonexistent lint from Jason's collar. "She's not even subtle."

"She doesn't need to be. She's got the Alpha's attention."

Oliver smiled bitterly. "For now."

They sat through the ceremony in silence. When Jason stood to make his speech, Oliver studied him-not just his words, but his posture, his voice, his gaze. He didn't look at her once.

Not during the toast.

Not during the ritual.

Not even when Astrid slipped her hand into his beneath the table.

After the last prayer to the Moon Goddess, Jason signaled for the musicians to begin. The hall shifted into a celebration-wine, laughter, dancing. Oliver remained seated, swirling the liquid in her goblet as the scent of warm pine and lilac reached her nose.

Jason approached.

She didn't look at him until he said her name.

"Oliver."

She met his eyes. "Yes?"

"Can we talk?"

She considered refusing. But instead, she rose.

He led her through the side corridor, away from the crowd, into the small moonlit atrium behind the hall. It was quiet here, save for the rustling leaves and the slow drip of a fountain.

"You're avoiding me," he said finally, turning to face her.

Oliver blinked at him. "Is that a joke?"

"No. I mean-" He ran a hand through his hair, the way he always did when he was frustrated. "You've been cold."

"And you've been gone," she snapped.

Jason exhaled. "I didn't expect you to welcome Astrid with open arms, I get that-"

"No, Jason." She stepped closer. "You don't get it. I stood beside you for five years. I gave everything to this pack. I was your mate in all but name. And then you show up with her, claim she's your fated, and expect me to just...what? Smile and sit beside her?"

"She is my fated-"

"And what was I, then?" she asked, voice shaking. "Convenient?"

His jaw clenched. "You were never just convenient."

"Then what was I?"

Silence.

Jason didn't answer. He looked away, jaw tight, breathing sharp.

Oliver's heart broke in real time.

"Do you love her?" she whispered.

A pause. A long, brutal pause.

"I don't know," he said.

She staggered back a step, wounded worse by that than any betrayal.

"Then we're done here," she murmured. "Enjoy your destiny."

She turned, but he caught her wrist.

"Oliver. Don't walk away like this."

Her voice was low and dangerous. "Let. Me. Go."

When he released her, she didn't look back.

That night, Oliver stood on the edge of the cliff behind the packhouse, overlooking the forest she once called home. The wind tangled in her curls, cold and sharp.

Elias found her there.

"You planning to jump?" he asked gently.

"No," she said. "Not yet."

He walked to her side. "You don't have to stay. You could leave. There are other packs. Other lands."

Her hands clenched. "I won't run. I'll rise."

"You sound like someone with a plan."

"I don't have a plan," she said, eyes dark with grief. "I have revenge."

Elias nodded. "Then I'm with you."

And just like that, the Luna who once healed the pack was gone.

In her place, something new was born. Something sharper. Something that wouldn't rest until the ones who cast her out knelt at her feet, begging for mercy.

Mercy she would never give.

The night wind howled through the trees like a wounded beast, but Oliver didn't flinch. She stayed at the cliff's edge, her gaze locked on the dense forest below. She had memorized this view long ago. It used to bring her peace. Now, it just reminded her of how far she'd fallen.

She heard Elias shift beside her, his thick arms crossing over his chest. "You want to tell me what the hell just happened back there?"

She didn't respond right away. Her breath clouded in the cold night air.

"He looked me in the eye," she said eventually, her voice barely audible. "And he said he didn't know if he loved her."

"Then he's a fool," Elias muttered. "A damn, blind fool."

Her throat tightened. "I don't think it's blindness. I think it's weakness."

He gave a low grunt. "I'd rip his throat out for you if I thought you'd let me."

"I appreciate the offer," she said, trying to smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "But I'd rather do it myself."

There was silence between them for a long moment. The kind that didn't need filling. The kind that settled over grief like a shroud.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" she asked quietly.

Elias snorted. "You threatened to shove wolfsbane tea down my throat for questioning your herbal mixture."

She actually smiled this time. "You had a sprained paw and an attitude."

"I still do."

She turned her head slightly to glance at him. "Why are you still here, Elias? Everyone else-"

"I'm not everyone else," he said firmly. "I was loyal to you. Not just to Jason. You were the heart of this pack."

Her smile faded. "Not anymore."

"No," he agreed. "Now you're the ghost they're pretending not to see. And ghosts don't stay quiet forever."

Oliver didn't answer, but her fingers curled around the edge of her cloak.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," she said finally.

He tensed. "Where?"

"Somewhere they won't follow. Somewhere I can think. Breathe. Heal."

"And plot," he added with a knowing look.

"And plot."

He reached into his coat and pulled something out-an old leather-bound notebook.

"What's this?"

"Maps. Border patrol patterns. Schedules. Weak spots." His voice dropped. "You're not the only one who's been watching while they celebrated your downfall."

She took the book, eyes scanning it as she flipped through the pages. "You planned this?"

"I had hope you wouldn't need it. But I'm not naïve."

She looked up at him, her heart aching. "You shouldn't get involved."

"I already am."

"You'll lose everything."

He smiled grimly. "Everything I valued was ripped from this pack the day they made her Luna in all but name."

Oliver's grip on the notebook tightened.

"I need time," she said. "To learn. To train. To remember who I am without him."

Elias nodded. "I'll cover your tracks. Make it look like you left out of grief. I'll report back when I can."

She hesitated. "You're risking exile."

He shrugged. "I've always liked the mountains."

She pulled him into a tight embrace, her voice muffled against his chest. "Thank you."

"I believe in you," he said simply. "Even if no one else does."

She pulled back, her eyes damp but fierce. "They'll regret it."

"I'm counting on it."

That night, while the pack danced and drank under silver chandeliers, Oliver slipped through the back gates with only a satchel, her cloak, and Elias's notebook. No one saw her leave. No one noticed the cold trail she left behind.

She traveled through the Whispering Pines for hours, the scent of pine needles and damp moss surrounding her. Her wolf stirred restlessly inside her, emotions tangled and raw.

Not yet, she told it. Soon.

By sunrise, she reached the edge of rogue territory-an abandoned cabin nestled near a frozen creek. She crossed the threshold alone.

Dust clouded the air. Cobwebs clung to the corners. A broken window let in a sliver of golden morning light.

Home, for now.

She spent the first few days in silence, gathering herbs, boiling water, cleaning the space. Keeping her hands busy while her heart unraveled.

By the end of the week, she had burned her old ceremonial cloak and carved a new blade from silver ashwood.

The next week, she started running every morning. Training in the clearing behind the cabin. Her muscles ached. Her skin bruised. But the pain felt good. Real. Honest.

She hunted. Trapped. Learned.

And each night, she opened Elias's notebook and memorized another page.

One night, three weeks later, she stood in front of the cracked mirror, holding her own gaze.

"You are not his," she whispered. "You are not theirs. You are not broken."

The mirror reflected back a woman with wild eyes, calloused hands, and something dangerous coiled behind her ribs.

You are reborn.

Then, one night-too soon, too fast-there was a knock on her cabin door.

She froze.

No one knew she was here. Not Elias. Not any of the patrols.

The knock came again.

Then a voice.

"Well, well. You don't look dead."

Oliver's spine stiffened.

She opened the door slowly.

Standing in the snow was a tall figure dressed in a weatherworn coat, a blade strapped to his hip and a smug smirk on his scarred face.

Kade Thorn.

Her brother.

Long estranged. Thought to be rogue. Dangerous in ways most couldn't comprehend.

She narrowed her eyes. "How did you find me?"

"Call it sibling instinct," he drawled. "Or maybe I followed the trail of shame and fury you left behind."

She didn't smile. "Why are you here?"

"Because you're planning something reckless. And I like reckless."

Oliver studied him for a long moment. Then stepped back.

"Come in."

As he crossed the threshold, she knew something was shifting. She'd started alone-but she wouldn't stay that way.

The world thought they'd buried her. Replaced her.

But ghosts don't stay buried.

And vengeance never sleeps.

Oliver hadn't seen Kade in nearly seven years-not since the night he walked away from the Emberfang Pack, a bloodied blade in hand and fury in his eyes. Back then, she was barely seventeen, still caught between her quiet dreams of being a healer and her new bond with the brooding future Alpha. Back then, Kade had been her protector, her sword and shadow, the wild half of her soul she didn't understand but always trusted.

Now, he was older. Harder. The boy was gone.

She studied him in the dim firelight as he moved across the creaking floorboards of the cabin like he owned the place. The scars on his jaw were new. His eyes, once warm and stormy, were now cold and calculating.

"I was expecting a bigger welcome," Kade said, tossing his snow-dusted coat onto the table.

"I was expecting to live in peace, alone," she shot back.

He let out a low whistle. "Damn. You've grown claws."

"You didn't come to catch up. Why are you really here?"

He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "You disappeared. Word travels, even through rogue territory. The pack says you ran away heartbroken."

"They would."

"They also say Jason found his true mate." Kade's voice tightened around the word true, like it tasted bitter. "A witch in silk dresses who purrs lies and pisses perfume."

Oliver almost smiled. "So you've heard of Astrid."

He narrowed his eyes. "He chose her over you?"

She met his gaze. "Yes."

Kade's jaw flexed. He didn't say anything for a long moment, just stared into the fire like it had insulted him personally.

Then he said, "Tell me everything."

And she did.

She told him about the Harvest Ceremony. About how Jason didn't look at her all night. About how he stood beside Astrid like she hadn't bled beside him in battle, hadn't nursed his mother through her final days. About the lies, the silence, the slow, humiliating unraveling of her place in the pack.

She told him how the once-loyal warriors had looked away as Astrid slipped into her role like a silk glove, while Oliver had been reduced to whispers and pitying glances. How Jason hadn't lifted a single finger when Astrid's accusations began-how he'd let Oliver take the fall for things she didn't do.

Poisoning rumors.

Disloyalty.

Treason.

"I saved that pack more times than I can count," she whispered. "And in the end, they made me feel like an intruder in my own skin."

Kade's voice was ice. "I should've killed him when I had the chance."

"Get in line."

He leaned forward. "So what's the plan?"

She hesitated. The fire crackled between them.

"I don't have a full one yet. Just pieces."

"You want war?"

She didn't answer.

Kade smiled faintly. "You don't have to say it. I know that look. It's the one Dad had before he burned Black Hollow to the ground."

"I'm not Dad."

"No," he agreed. "You're better."

She let out a breath. "I need time. I need strength. I need people who won't hesitate when I tell them what to do."

Kade tilted his head. "And what exactly will you tell them to do?"

She met his gaze without flinching. "I'll tell them we're taking back what was stolen. That we're burning down the rot. And that the next time someone calls me 'Luna,' they'll mean it."

Kade's grin was sharp and savage. "Now that's my sister."

She stood, crossing to the dusty shelves along the back wall. Her fingers traced old glass jars-dried herbs, medicinal roots, and poisons she no longer needed to pretend she didn't know how to use.

"I'll need alliances," she murmured. "There are packs who hate the Emberfangs. Packs Jason's father crushed under his rule. If I approach them right..."

"They'll follow," Kade finished. "Especially with me at your side."

She turned to face him. "You're really staying?"

"I didn't come to play house, Ollie. I came because blood calls to blood. And no one treats my sister like a discarded bone and lives to brag about it."

Her throat tightened.

He reached for her hand, rough fingers brushing hers. "We're going to make them wish they never crossed you. All of them. Astrid. Jason. Every coward who looked away when they should've stood up."

"I want them to beg," she whispered. "I want them to crawl."

"And they will."

A long silence fell between them, heavy with everything unsaid.

Then, softly, she asked, "Do you think I'm being cruel?"

Kade stared at her.

"No," he said. "I think you're finally being honest."

For the first time in weeks, something like clarity settled in Oliver's chest. Not peace-but purpose.

She was no longer waiting to be chosen.

She would choose herself.

She would rise.

That night, they dragged an old training dummy from the collapsed barn behind the cabin. Kade watched her strike it, again and again, until her fists bled and her shoulders ached.

He said nothing.

Just handed her a knife.

She didn't hesitate. She slashed through the air, the blade gleaming like moonlight in her hands.

"I want you to fight me," Kade said suddenly.

Oliver turned. "Now?"

"Now."

She blinked. "You're serious?"

"You think Jason will go easy on you when you return?" Kade growled. "You think Astrid will whisper spells and play fair?"

He stepped into the clearing. "I want to see what five years beside the Alpha taught you."

She bared her teeth. "Fine. Just don't cry when I break your nose."

They circled each other in the snow, brother and sister-both shaped by pain, both tempered in fire.

The first strike came fast. He lunged, and she ducked, spinning to deliver a blow to his ribs. He grunted, countering with a sweep to her legs.

She hit the ground hard-but rolled and kicked upward, landing on her feet.

Their breaths steamed in the air.

"Good," he said. "Again."

They trained for hours, bruising each other with every move, shedding years of silence and separation with every strike.

By the time dawn painted the sky in pinks and gold, Oliver was on her knees, panting, soaked in sweat and snow.

Kade stood over her, bruised and bloody.

"Tell me again what you want," he said.

She looked up, eyes burning with frost and fire.

"I want them to feel what I felt. To bleed like I bled. To watch everything they love turn to ash while I watch."

Kade's smile returned. "Then you're almost ready."

Later that morning, Oliver stood at the small cracked basin near the hearth, her hands trembling slightly as she rinsed blood from her knuckles. Cold water stung her raw skin, pink swirls circling the rusted drain.

The pain didn't bother her. It was the silence that did.

Kade had gone to scout the surrounding woods, claiming he'd heard unusual movement beyond the north ridge. "Could be rogues," he'd said. "Could be spies." She knew better than to dismiss either. Emberfang's reach was long-and Astrid's methods weren't always visible.

Alone again, Oliver stared into the mirror above the basin. Her reflection stared back, ghostlike. Hair damp with sweat, eyes rimmed red, lips cracked and pale.

Not the Luna they remembered.

But something far more dangerous.

She reached for the salve she'd made the night before and applied it to the bruises forming across her collarbone. Her fingers paused when they brushed the small scar just above her right breast-Jason's mark. Not a true mating mark, but close enough. A symbol of possession. Of promises.

It was fading.

And it needed to go.

She found her knife-Kade's old hunting blade-and walked back into the clearing. She didn't hesitate. She pressed the cold tip against the mark and exhaled.

"This was a lie," she whispered. "You don't get to leave scars on me."

With one clean stroke, she cut through the symbol. Blood welled. Her breath hitched, but she didn't cry out. The pain was nothing compared to what lived inside her chest.

She wiped the blade clean, wrapped the wound tightly, and dropped the bloodstained scrap of fabric into the fire.

It curled and sizzled, smoke rising like an omen.

A voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Didn't think you had the guts."

She turned sharply-Kade was back, his boots crunching on frostbitten grass, eyes glinting with approval.

"What did you find?" she asked, tying her hair into a loose braid with one hand.

"A trail," he said. "Recent. Two wolves. Not local. Probably scouts."

"Emberfang?"

"Maybe. But..." He crouched and pulled something from his coat. A torn strip of cloth. "Smelled more like Blackwood than Emberfang."

Oliver stiffened. "Astrid's family?"

He nodded. "She's not just playing Queen. She's laying claim to territory."

The implications settled like ash on her shoulders.

"I need to move fast," she muttered. "Faster than I thought."

"You won't be ready in a week, Ollie."

"I won't be ready in a year," she snapped. "But time isn't a luxury anymore."

She paced toward the cabin, emotions boiling. "She's marking lines before she even has a crown. That means Jason's letting her."

Kade leaned against a tree, watching her. "You going to kill him?"

The question hung in the air.

Oliver didn't answer right away.

"I don't know," she said finally. "I want to. But... part of me still wants him to look at me and realize what he lost. Not because I need his love, but because he doesn't deserve to walk away clean."

Kade's smile was cold. "Then don't kill him. Break him."

She turned toward him. "I need a pack."

He pushed off the tree. "I might know where to start."

"Where?"

"There's a rogue clan near Ironroot Ridge. Savage but loyal if you prove yourself. Their leader-Ronan-owes me a favor."

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "What kind of favor?"

"The kind that involved bailing his sorry ass out of a blood debt to a vampire prince."

She blinked. "What?"

"Long story. I'll tell you over drinks someday."

She gave a tight smile. "When can we leave?"

"Now."

She didn't pack much-just her blades, her salves, the old notebook Elias had given her, and the silver wolf pendant she'd tucked away the day Jason came back with Astrid.

As she slipped it into her pocket, her heart thudded, remembering the way Jason used to press his lips against it like a vow.

You'll always be mine.

She clenched her jaw. Never again.

They moved through the forest quickly, their wolf instincts guiding their footsteps, senses on alert. The trees grew darker the farther north they traveled. Crows gathered overhead. The air thickened with tension, heavy with the scent of magic and moss and old blood.

By dusk, they reached the base of Ironroot Ridge.

And they weren't alone.

"Hold," Kade said, motioning with two fingers.

Oliver stopped.

Five wolves stepped from the trees, each armed, each wearing scraps of armor and torn cloaks. One woman with dark braids and a scar down her cheek raised a blade.

"No one passes through without Ronan's blessing," she said.

Kade stepped forward. "Tell Ronan his debt just came due."

The woman studied him. Then slowly nodded. "Follow me."

Oliver didn't speak as they were led through the thicket toward a half-buried den carved into the rockface. It was lit by blue fire and warded with old symbols scratched into the stone.

Inside, the air smelled of ash and iron.

Ronan sat on a throne of twisted branches, shirtless, scars like war paint crisscrossing his chest. His eyes flicked to Kade. Then to Oliver.

"Well, shit," he said. "You didn't say the debt involved bringing me her."

"Do you know who I am?" Oliver asked coolly.

He grinned. "I know who you were."

"I'm not here for mockery. I'm here for strength."

Ronan tilted his head. "And what do I get?"

"I have intel on the Emberfang Pack. Border weakness. Supply routes. Patrol blind spots."

He leaned forward, interest sparking. "And?"

"I'm going to bring down Astrid Blackwood. From the inside out."

That got his attention.

He stood slowly, stepping down from his throne, eyes locked on her.

"You're not the same girl they whispered about. The broken Luna."

"No," she said. "She died."

Ronan's smile widened. "Good. Broken things are boring. But vengeful things? Those are interesting."

She didn't blink. "Help me rebuild. Train me. And when the time comes, you'll have a claim to territory the Blackwoods are trying to steal from you."

He paused. Then nodded once.

"You've got a deal, Thorn."

Kade muttered, "That was easier than I expected."

Ronan grinned. "Oh, it's not going to be easy. If she wants my help, she trains with my warriors. She bleeds with them. And if she can't keep up, she walks away empty."

"I won't walk," Oliver said.

"Prove it."

He tossed her a blade.

She caught it, steel gleaming in the firelight.

In the den of wolves, with nothing left to lose, Oliver stepped forward.

And for the first time in weeks, she felt something burn inside her.

Not pain.

Not grief.

Power.