CHAPTER 99: HER CARNAGE

Damien

"Her condition has stabilized," Kevin, one of the lab doctors, announces as he withdraws a thin needle from Kaya’s arm.

My pulse quickens as I watch the veins in her forearm swell, then settle, disappearing beneath the silver-dusted rivulets of her long, jagged scars. She bore those marks the first time I saw her nine years ago. Back then, I believed her story—that they were the remnants of brutal attacks from her packmates when she’d been too small to even remember the details.

But later, I learned the truth. Because people love to run their mouths, spinning lies until they sound like gospel. And the poor? The poor will swallow every word of it—because it’s easier to believe in someone else’s story than face the ugly truth.

***

Damien, nine years ago

"I’m telling you, it’s her," a low, gruff voice cuts through my half-drunken daze, and I slowly turn my head to the right, noticing two middle-aged men sitting in the corner of the bar. They’re trying to speak in hushed tones, but the beer they’ve already chugged makes it nearly impossible for them to keep their voices down.

"You think Moonrise is just a legend?" the same man continues. "But I will never forget that silver girl! I’ve had my hands on her—I even tasted her blood!"

"Stop spewing nonsense!" the second man snorts, slamming a wooden pitcher onto the counter, sending a spill of amber liquid across the surface and earning a sharp frown from the bartender. "Do you think if someone from Moonrise were to appear here, the other packs wouldn’t know? They’d slaughter her without hesitation!"

I hadn’t planned on eavesdropping on their conversation, but the topic instantly snags my interest.

Moonrise Kingdom. An old legend about the blessed wolves—those kissed by the Moon Goddess herself. They were said to be the keepers of peace and balance in our world, but after a string of bloody encounters with other werewolves, they vanished without a trace, never to be seen or heard from again.

Powerful wolves, their strength unmatched by any other. Magic in their blood—deadly poison to werewolves, yet an incredible stimulant capable of turning other creatures into killing machines.

There has never been any concrete proof to confirm the existence of Moonrise Kingdom. And if there were people once lucky enough—or unlucky enough—to encounter its dwellers, chances are they were dead before they could spread the word.

"I’m telling you––I’ve seen her! And now, she’s back!" The first man grabs his companion by the collar, the shake knocking off the wide-brimmed hat that exposes his bald scalp. "You know Black Bones? The rogue pack? She’s with them now! I saw her. I will never forget her silver eyes. And the scars... My old man and I drained her blood back then––we cut her arms and legs up, she must have the scars!"

I don’t know what irks me more right now––the fact that he mentioned my pack, or that he sounds like a fucking maniac.

Silver eyes. Silver hair. The new girl.

I’ve been so busy handling the matters outside Black Bones that I only saw the new girl once in passing, barely exchanging a few words just to make the introduction.

Scars... Did she have scars? Perhaps she mentioned something about them. I don’t remember. What kind of scars?

Now, it somehow gnaws at me.

"Let’s go tonight!" The first man does not give up, his broken fangs sliding from underneath his thin lips as he grins like a madman. "I know the Black Bones’ leader is away these days, so we could probably get through without much trouble. I’ll show you! And maybe we can drag her with us. Do you know how much money we’ll get if we sell her to the King?"

An unexpectedly loud snort escapes my lips, and both men snap their heads in my direction right away. I pretend to choke on my beer, hiding my face behind the large pitcher as I turn away from them.

They want to sneak into my pack and kidnap one of my people, huh? Well, we’ll see about that.

While the two fuckers scrape together some change to pay for their beers, I discreetly take out a small vial filled with light-blue liquid and pour it into the pitcher, then tip back the rest of my own beer in one swift flick of my head.

Scent suppressor—a brilliant invention that’s saved my ass more times than I can count in my ventures as the leader of a rogue clan. It’s ridiculously expensive, the kind of thing I hate wasting without a damn good reason... but I suppose tonight, I’ll make an exception.

I follow the men out like a cunning predator, tracking their scents as if an invisible thread connects me to them. The bastards move with purpose through the woods, never once hesitating—they know exactly where my pack is. And that knowledge alone only makes my anger seethe hotter.

But I have to stay quiet. I need to see whatever the fuck it is they’re here to see.

When we reach my settlement, an eerie stillness settles over everything. The full moon spills across the houses like a giant, merciless spotlight, illuminating every inch for the world to see.

I’ve never had to worry about my packmates living freely here. In Black Bones, everyone knows how to defend themselves—and everyone is ready to protect the others.

The men finally stop, crouching behind the thick trunks of the trees. The first man’s voice carries easily through the midnight stillness. "We wait here until morning. All I want is to see her so we know which house she lives in."

I smirk, admiring the nerve.

The fuckers, however, turn out to be luckier than I thought. They don’t have to wait until morning, because just a few minutes later, the doors of one of the houses screech open, and a small, frail figure slips out, her footsteps quick and feather-light as she glides across the clearing.

"Ay, I can’t believe my luck!" the man hisses, a large blade glinting between his fingers. "Silver hair! It has to be her!"

"But how the fuck are we supposed to confirm it? There are no scars—she’s covered!" His friend wails, but the man seems to have a new plan now.

"Just wait here. I’ll get her."

With that, the first man slinks out from behind the tree, moving through the shadows like a deadly python. I remain still, watching, noting every move—though it’s not the old bastard I’m truly interested in. My attention is on the new girl.

Because I want to see it too.

And damn, I see it all.

I see the bastard drag her back into the woods, her small body writhing with frustration and fear. I see him rip open her shirt, the cold edge of his blade catching the moonlight like a shard of ice.

And then, I see her shift.

The lowly omega runt transforms into a magnificent, towering wolf that snaps the man’s neck so effortlessly it makes my blood run cold.

And then, all I see is her.

Her rage.

Her despair.

Her carnage.

And I smile—because all of that can become mine.