Chapter 1 : Moonlight Salvation

The champagne flute felt fragile in my grip, a delicate stem of crystal threatening to snap under the pressure I was exerting. Not from my human strength, but from the wolf beneath my skin, bristling at the opulent display around me.

Blackwood Estate. The heart of the so-called pureblood elite.

The air itself tasted of old money, pine needles, and a subtle, arrogant musk that was uniquely Blackwood. Laughter, sharp and polished, echoed under the sprawling marquee. Everywhere I looked, werewolves in designer evening wear preened and postured. Their eyes, sharp and assessing, slid over me, Iris Nightingale, the freelance photographer Thorne had inexplicably brought along. The human curiosity. Little did they know.

My own gaze, however, was tethered to one man. Thorne Blackwood. He stood near the roaring bonfire, the flames dancing in his perfectly groomed hair. He was holding court, as always. A king in his natural habitat. His smile was a weapon, charming and dismissive. It had once made my heart stutter. Now, it just made the wolf in me want to bare its teeth.

Four years. Four years I’d spent playing this part. The understanding, low-maintenance human girlfriend who asked no questions about his frequent "business trips" or the faint, lingering scents of other she-wolves that sometimes clung to him. I’d swallowed my pride, my heritage, everything, for the mission. To get close to the family that had orchestrated the annihilation of mine. The Nightingale pack. Wiped out for a strip of land rich with silver ore.

"Enjoying the view, Iris?" A saccharine voice cut through my thoughts.

Seraphina Crestwell—Sera—sidled up to me, a vision in gold silk that complemented her family''s name. Her smile was as fake as the diamonds in her ears. She was everything a Blackwood heir was supposed to want. Old blood, impeccable lineage, and a viciousness she hid behind impeccable manners.

"It''s… quite a spectacle," I replied, my voice neutral.

"Thorne does know how to host a hunt," she purred, her eyes scanning me with barely concealed contempt. "Though, I suppose the finer points of our traditions are lost on you. Humans are so… fragile."

The wolf inside me snarled. If only you knew, you pretentious bitch.

"Indeed," I said, taking a sip of the champagne. It tasted like ash.

Sera’s attention was already elsewhere, drawn to a group of young, brash males boasting about their tracking skills. "They say there''s a rogue wolf in these woods," she said, a thrill in her voice. "A big one. Uncivilized. It would be quite the trophy to bring it down."

A cold dread trickled down my spine. A rogue. Unpredictable. Dangerous. Even for trained wolves.

"Perhaps it''s best to leave it alone," I suggested softly. "If it''s staying away from the estate…"

Sera laughed, a tinkling, dismissive sound. "Where''s your sense of adventure, Iris? This is what we do." She turned to the group. "I think I''ll get a closer look. See if I can pick up its trail before the main hunt begins."

Before I could say another word, she melted into the shadows at the edge of the forest, her golden dress a fleeting beacon. Stupid, reckless girl. Playing with fire to impress Thorne.

I looked for Thorne. He was laughing at some joke, oblivious. My fingers tightened around the flute. This was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

Then I heard it.

A low, guttural growl, cut short by a sharp yelp of surprise. It came from the direction Sera had taken.

The air changed. The music and laughter seemed to fade into a dull buzz. My senses sharpened, the world coming into hyper-focus. I could smell the rogue now—a feral, unwashed stench of hunger and rage. And underneath it, the sharp, metallic tang of Sera''s fear.

Not my problem, the logical part of my brain screamed. This could ruin everything. Exposing myself now, for her?

But another part, the part that was still a decent being, the part that remembered what it was to have a pack and protect your own, recoiled at the thought of letting anyone, even Sera, be torn apart by a rogue.

I dropped the champagne flute. It shattered on the stone terrace, a sound lost in the din.

I moved.

I didn''t run like a human. I slipped into the darkness, my movements fluid and silent, a predator stalking prey. The forest swallowed me whole. I followed the scent trail, my heart hammering against my ribs. Not from fear, but from the strain of holding back the shift.

I found them in a small clearing.

The rogue was massive, a shaggy, malnourished beast with mad eyes. It had Sera cornered against a giant oak. She was in her wolf form, a sleek golden creature, but she was trembling, a low whine escaping her throat. She was outmatched.

The rogue lunged.

I didn''t think.

I let the change rip through me.

It was agony and ecstasy. A familiar, welcome pain. Bones cracked and reshaped. Fur, silver-grey like moonlight, erupted from my skin. My senses exploded. The world was a symphony of smells and sounds. My human dress shredded around me.

I launched myself at the rogue, hitting its side with the full force of my weight. We tumbled in a snarl of teeth and claws. It was strong, driven by desperation. But I was faster. I was fighting for something more than a meal.

My teeth found its shoulder. I tasted foul blood. It howled in pain and rage, turning its fury on me.

We fought. It was a brutal, primal dance. I was aware of gasps and shouts from the edge of the clearing. The partygoers had followed the noise. They were watching. A circle of shocked, elite faces, illuminated by the distant bonfire.

I finally got the upper hand, pinning the rogue down, my jaws locked around its throat. It ceased struggling, submitting with a final, defeated whimper. I released it, and it scrambled away into the darkness, wounded and cowed.

Panting, I stood over Sera. She was still cowering, her golden fur matted with dirt and saliva. She was safe.

The adrenaline faded. The exhaustion hit me like a physical blow. My body ached. The effort of the fight, combined with the sudden shift after years of suppression, left me drained. My legs buckled. I collapsed onto the cool, damp leaves, my wolf form too heavy to sustain. The shift receded, leaving me naked, shivering, and utterly exposed in the center of the clearing.

Silence.

Then, whispers. Murmurs of shock and disbelief.

I lifted my head, my vision swimming.

Thorne was there. He had pushed to the front of the crowd. His face was a mask of horror. Not concern. Horror.

He didn''t look at me. Not at me, Iris, the woman he claimed to love. His eyes were fixed on my naked, human body, then scanned the clearing, taking in the evidence of the fight, the shredded remnants of my dress.

He strode forward, but he didn''t come to me. He went to Sera, who had shifted back to her human form and was sobbing dramatically. He knelt, wrapping his jacket around her shoulders, pulling her close.

"Shhh, it''s alright, Sera. You''re safe now," he cooed, his voice tender.

Then, over her shoulder, his eyes met mine. And in that gaze, I saw it all. The betrayal. The disgust. The fear.

He pointed a trembling finger at me, his voice cutting through the night, loud and clear for all to hear.

"Guards! Secure that… that monster! She attacked Seraphina!"

The word landed like a physical blow.

Monster.

I had just saved the life of the woman he was probably going to marry for political gain, and I was the monster.

The guards approached cautiously. I didn''t resist. I had no strength left.

As two large wolves in Blackwood livery hauled me to my feet, my bare skin scraping against the forest floor, I managed to lift my head again. I caught Thorne''s eye one last time. The crowd was watching, a sea of judgmental faces.

My voice was a raw scrape, but it carried.

"Blackwood," I whispered, the promise a venomous seed in the air. "The debt your family owes… it''s time to pay."

Thorne’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, a flicker of something beyond the disgust—perhaps a sliver of primal fear. Then, his mask of arrogant contempt slammed back into place. He sneered, turning his attention back to the weeping Sera, dismissing me as one would a piece of troublesome vermin.

The guards dragged me away, towards the estate''s holding cells. The last thing I saw was the bonfire, its flames dancing like mocking spirits, and the silhouette of the man I had once loved, comforting the woman whose life I had just saved.

The cold of the stone floor seeped into my bones, but it was nothing compared to the ice now solidifying in my heart.

The mask was off.

The game was over.

The real hunt was about to begin.