When The Moon Chose Me

The moon had never felt this close before.

It followed me as I walked, sliding between the clouds like an unblinking eye. Every step I took home from school felt wrong, as if I were moving deeper into something I couldn't see but could somehow sense-something waiting.

My hands were shaking.

Not from cold. From something else.

The street was quiet, too quiet. The usual sounds of the neighborhood-cars passing, music drifting from open windows, laughter-were gone. Even the crickets were silent. The only sound was my breathing, uneven and loud in my ears.

Then my heart started racing.

Not the normal kind. This was fast. Wild. Like it was trying to escape my chest.

I stopped walking.

For a moment, I just stood there under the streetlight, staring at my hands. The skin looked the same, but it didn't feel the same. Heat pulsed beneath it. My fingers twitched as if they didn't belong to me anymore.

"Get it together," I muttered.

That was when I smelled it.

Blood.

The scent hit me so hard I staggered back, my stomach twisting. It was sharp and metallic, thick in the air-close. Way too close. My mouth filled with saliva, and the sudden hunger that followed terrified me more than the smell itself.

I spun around.

Nothing.

The street was empty, stretching out in both directions. My house was only two blocks away. I should've run. I knew that. Every instinct screamed at me to turn around and go home.

Instead, my feet carried me toward the alley beside the old grocery store.

The darkness there seemed deeper than it should've been, swallowing the moonlight whole. I stood at the entrance, frozen, my pulse pounding so hard I could hear it.

Don't go in, my mind warned.

I stepped forward anyway.

The pain came without warning.

It exploded in my chest, sharp and unbearable, like my ribs were being crushed from the inside. I cried out, dropping to my knees as fire tore through my muscles. My vision blurred. The world tilted.

Something inside me shifted.

Bones cracked.

I screamed-but the sound broke halfway out, twisting into something raw and animalistic. My spine arched as pressure ripped through my body, every nerve screaming at once. I felt taller. Heavier. Stronger.

Terrified.

I clawed at the ground, my nails scraping against concrete-no, digging into it. They were longer now. Sharper. I watched in horror as they split through my skin, black and curved like talons.

"No," I gasped. "This isn't real."

But it was.

My senses sharpened violently. I could hear everything-the wind brushing leaves on the other side of the street, a rat scurrying inside a dumpster, a heartbeat that wasn't mine.

I lifted my head.

At the end of the alley, something moved.

Two eyes glowed in the darkness, watching me.

A low growl rumbled from my chest, vibrating through my bones. It didn't sound human. It sounded like a warning.

The eyes didn't flinch.

Fear surged through me, but beneath it was something worse-recognition. Whatever was standing there knew what I was becoming.

The moon broke through the clouds then, flooding the alley with silver light.

That's when I saw my reflection in a shattered piece of glass on the ground.

My eyes weren't brown anymore.

They were gold.

The thing in the alley stepped closer, and somewhere deep inside me, a voice whispered:

Run... or hunt.

Before I could choose, a howl tore out of my throat-loud, powerful, and wrong.

And in the distance, the night answered back.

I woke up choking on air.

My body jerked upright as if I'd been dragged out of a nightmare, my chest burning, my heart slamming so hard it hurt. For a moment, I didn't know where I was. The ceiling above me was unfamiliar-cracked, yellowed, with a slow-moving fan rattling overhead.

Then the smell hit me.

Blood.

I scrambled off the bed, slipping on the cold floor. My hands were shaking as I held them up to the dim light creeping in through the window.

They were clean.

Too clean.

No claws. No black nails. No fur. Just my hands-human hands-but they felt heavier, like they remembered something I didn't want them to.

My clothes were folded neatly on the chair by the bed. They weren't the ones I wore last night. These were clean too. Fresh.

A chill ran down my spine.

I turned slowly, taking in the room. It wasn't my bedroom. It was small and plain, smelling faintly of smoke and old books. That's when I noticed the door.

It creaked open before I could reach it.

"Ethan," a familiar voice said softly.

Maya.

Relief and panic slammed into me at the same time.

She stood in the doorway, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her dark hair was pulled back like she'd been running her fingers through it all night. There were shadows under her eyes. She looked... scared.

"Where am I?" I asked, my voice rough.

"My place," she said. "Guest room."

That made no sense. "How did I-"

"You don't remember?" Her eyes searched my face, sharp and worried.

I shook my head. "The last thing I remember is the alley."

Her jaw tightened. She stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind her, locking it.

That's when I noticed the dried blood on her sleeve.

My stomach dropped.

"Maya," I whispered. "Are you hurt?"

"No," she said quickly. Too quickly. "Not mine."

Silence stretched between us, thick and uncomfortable. I could hear her heartbeat-fast, uneven. The realization sent a shiver through me.

I shouldn't be able to hear that.

She noticed my stare and pulled her sleeve down, hiding the stain. "You collapsed near the park," she said. "I found you barely conscious. You were burning up. Talking nonsense."

"What kind of nonsense?" I asked.

She hesitated.

"You kept saying my name."

My throat went dry.

"And," she added quietly, "you begged me not to let you see the moon."

The fan overhead rattled louder. I swung my legs back onto the bed, suddenly afraid I might fall.

"Maya... did I hurt anyone?"

She didn't answer right away.

That terrified me more than anything.

"I don't know," she finally said. "But when I found you, there was blood on your hands."

I stared down at them again, flexing my fingers. The memory came back in flashes-golden eyes in the dark, a growl tearing out of my chest, the urge to chase.

To hunt.

I swallowed hard. "You should stay away from me."

She laughed once, sharp and humorless. "A little late for that."

She stepped closer, and I felt it immediately-that pull. Stronger than before. My pulse quickened, not from fear this time, but something deeper, hotter. Her scent wrapped around me, grounding and dangerous all at once.

"You scared me," she said, her voice softer now. "I thought I was going to lose you."

I looked up at her, really looked. Her eyes were shining, her lips pressed together like she was holding something back. I had the sudden urge to reach for her-to pull her close just to make sure she was real.

I clenched my fists instead.

"I'm not safe," I said. "Whatever happened last night-it's still in me."

"I know," she replied.

That made me freeze.

"You know what?" I asked.

Maya exhaled slowly and reached into her pocket. She pulled out something small and silver-a pendant shaped like a crescent moon, etched with symbols I didn't recognize.

"I was hoping you'd never have to see this," she said.

My skin prickled.

"Maya," I said carefully, "why do you have that?"

Her gaze locked onto mine, intense and unflinching.

"Because I knew this day would come," she said. "And because you're not the only secret in this room."

A sudden knock slammed against the front door.

Maya stiffened.

"Stay here," she whispered.

But it was too late.

From the other side of the house, a voice called out-low, commanding, and familiar.

"Ethan," my uncle said.

"We need to talk about what you are."

And somewhere deep inside me, the thing that woke under the moon stirred again.

My uncle's voice cut through the house like a blade.

"Ethan," he called again, slower this time. "I know you're awake."

Maya's hand closed around my wrist. Her fingers were cold, but the contact sent a jolt through me-sharp, grounding. Her eyes pleaded with me to stay put, to let her handle this.

I gently pulled free.

"No," I whispered. "This is my mess."

I stood, every nerve in my body buzzing. The moment my feet touched the floor, the room seemed to sharpen around me. I could hear my uncle's boots shifting in the hallway. I could smell him-smoke, rain, and something old. Familiar.

That scared me.

I opened the door before he could knock again.

He stood there with his shoulders tense, his jacket still damp from the morning fog. His eyes locked onto mine, and something in his expression broke-relief, fear, and guilt crashing together.

"You changed," he said quietly.

Maya sucked in a breath behind me.

"What are you talking about?" I demanded, even though part of me already knew.

My uncle stepped inside and shut the door, turning the lock with a deliberate click. He looked at Maya then, really looked at her, and his jaw tightened.

"So," he said. "They finally told you."

"Told me enough," Maya replied coolly. "Not everything."

His gaze returned to me, heavy. "Ethan, sit down."

I didn't.

"Tell me why I woke up covered in someone else's blood," I said. "Tell me why I hear things I shouldn't and smell fear on people. Tell me why the moon feels like it owns me."

The silence that followed was unbearable.

My uncle ran a hand through his graying hair. "Because you're a werewolf," he said at last. "And last night, your bloodline woke up."

The word hit me harder than any punch.

Werewolf.

I laughed once, hollow. "That's not funny."

"I'm not joking."

Maya stepped closer to me. I felt her presence like a shield, and that terrified me even more. If this was real-if I was dangerous-she shouldn't be anywhere near me.

"How long have you known?" I asked him.

"Since the day your parents died," he said.

The room tilted.

"You promised me that was an accident," I said, my voice breaking.

"It was," he said quickly. "But not the kind you think."

Images flashed through my mind-sirens, rain, twisted metal, blood on glass. I'd been ten. I'd never asked too many questions.

"You carry your father's blood," my uncle continued. "He was an alpha. Strong. Respected. And hunted."

"Hunted by who?" I asked.

He hesitated.

"By humans," Maya said softly. "And by other packs."

My uncle shot her a sharp look. "You know too much."

"I know enough to save his life," she replied.

My heart pounded. "Save me from what?"

"From losing yourself," my uncle said. "From the first kill."

The word *kill* echoed in my skull.

"I didn't kill anyone," I said. "Did I?"

He met my gaze and didn't answer.

My chest tightened painfully. A memory surfaced-running through the dark, the thrill of the chase, the sound of something crashing through bushes ahead of me.

I staggered back, nausea rising.

Maya caught me before I fell.

"I'm here," she whispered, pressing her forehead against mine. Her breath trembled. "You're still you."

Her closeness nearly broke me. My hands hovered uselessly at my sides, afraid to touch her.

My uncle cleared his throat. "You attacked a hunter," he said. "One of the Moonbound Order."

Maya stiffened.

"They found him alive," my uncle added. "Barely."

Relief and dread tangled inside me.

"They're coming," Maya said quietly. "Aren't they?"

"Yes," my uncle replied. "And they won't stop."

I pulled away from Maya, forcing space between us. The part of me that growled at the thought scared me more than the hunters.

"What happens now?" I asked.

My uncle reached into his jacket and pulled out a worn leather band etched with the same symbols as Maya's pendant.

"Now," he said, "you learn control. Or the moon will choose for you."

A sudden sharp pain tore through my arm.

I cried out, clutching it as black veins flared briefly beneath my skin. My uncle's eyes widened.

"Already?" he muttered.

Maya's voice shook. "What does that mean?"

My uncle grabbed my shoulders, his grip iron-strong. "It means the Black Hollow Pack has marked him."

The name sent a cold wave through me.

"You're not just changing," he said grimly. "You've been claimed."

And outside, far away but closing fast, a howl split the morning air-deep, dominant, and answering something inside my blood.

The moon might have been gone from the sky, but it hadn't let me go.