Hunting My Outcast Luna

Six

I pause, scanning their faces, making sure I have their full attention.

"There have been rumors," I continue, "and some of you have been wondering how much truth there is to them. So let me be clear—I will confirm what I can, and I expect you to take my words as fact. Anything else is nothing more than speculation."

The room remains still, waiting.

I take a breath. "Yes, rogue attacks have increased. They are coming more often, more coordinated than we’ve ever seen. The warriors have kept them from breaching the inner patrol, but I won’t lie to you—there is a chance they may break through. If they do, you need to be prepared. Each household should have an escape plan. Protect your young, move quickly, and if you are not a trained fighter, do not try to become one."

Murmurs ripple through the crowd. Some expected this, others hoped it was nothing more than whispers. I see the unease, the fear buried beneath forced stoicism.

I raise a hand, and silence falls once more.

"I don’t want panic," I say firmly. "But I want awareness. Complacency will get people killed. More warriors will be put on patrol, and my betas will be assigning a select number of you to support teams. You will receive instructions within the next few days."

I let that sink in before moving to the next matter.

"There is also concern about our food supply," I continue. "The trade carts have been slow, and some have not arrived at all. We are working with a coven to see if they can provide support until we establish a more secure route. Until then, we ration carefully."

The murmurs grow louder this time. My pack is strong, but hunger makes people desperate. If I don’t find a solution soon, survival will become a different kind of battle.

"And finally," I add, "I want to put a certain rumor to rest."

That gets their attention. A few glances exchanged, quiet whispers.

"I have not found my mate," I say, my voice even. "And I may not. If that is the case, before the Blue Moon, I will make my choice for a Luna. That is all I will say on the matter."

Silence.

A moment stretches, heavy and unspoken. Then, finally—acceptance. No questions, no outbursts. Just quiet nods and resigned expressions. They understand what this means. They know what is expected.

I glance toward my betas, and both Alex and Xzavier give the subtlest of nods. They’ll handle the rest.

"That’s all for now," I say, stepping back. "If you have further concerns, you know where to find me."

With that, the meeting is dismissed.

I shut the door to my office, the weight of the pack meeting still settling over me.

Exhaling slowly, I watch through the window as the last of my pack members filter out of the Community Hall. The meeting had gone as well as I could have hoped, but the pressure in my chest hasn’t lessened. If anything, it’s heavier.

The rogues are getting worse. The food shortages aren’t improving. The low murmur of conversation from the warriors outside fades as I turn to face my betas. Alex leans against the far wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable, while Xzavier sprawls lazily into one of the chairs, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"Well, that was fun," Xzavier says, stretching out like he has all the time in the world. "Nothing like reminding everyone that rogues are breathing down our necks while we scramble for food."

Alex shoots him a look but doesn’t argue. Instead, he turns to me. "They’re scared, but they trust you. The patrol increase should help. But if the attacks escalate…" He hesitates. "We need to talk about the cards. Some warriors were confused, and a few families were worried. You never explained what the numbers meant publicly."

"I know," I say, moving toward my desk. I take a seat, rubbing a hand over my jaw. "That wasn’t for the entire pack to know yet. The cards were a way to organize them discreetly—group one will be the first to evacuate if necessary. Group two stays to defend. Three and four are backups if things take a turn."

Xzavier’s smirk disappears. "You really think it’ll get that bad?"

I exhale through my nose. "I don’t know. But something’s wrong. The rogues are different. The weather’s off. Our food supplies are dwindling even with trade routes open." I pause, glancing between them. "I’m going to Evernight tomorrow to check on Bellamy. Ifanyone knows what’s really happening, it’s him."

Alex nods, pushing off the wall. "Smart move. Bellamy doesn’t panic easily, but if they’re feeling the strain, we’ll need to adjust."

"Exactly." My gaze drops to the map sprawled across my desk. I trace the southern border with my finger. "I’ll take a small group of warriors. Just enough to handle trouble if it comes to us. If anything feels off, we pull back and reassess."

Xzavier rolls his shoulders. "Good. Evernight’s close enough that we won’t be stretched too thin, but I still don’t like you going alone."

I give him a dry look. "I’m not. You and Alex are coming with me."

Alex sighs, muttering something about never getting a break, but there’s no real complaint.

For a moment, no one speaks. Then, Xzavier shifts, drumming his fingers against the armrest. "Alright, but I have to ask—were you serious? About picking a mate?"

I don’t look up, but the tension in my shoulders gives me away.

"That got everyone’s attention," he continues. "They took it well, but you and I both know why." His voice drops slightly. "They assume you’ll pick someone strong, someone who makes sense. But choosing a Luna instead of finding your mate?" He exhales, shaking his head. "That’s not just an Alpha’s decision, Ronan. That’s a gamble."

I lean back, staring at the ceiling for a moment before answering. "I know."

Silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken truths. They don’t push, but they don’t need to. Alex already knows I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it. Xzavier wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want to hear my thoughts.

Finally, I sigh. "I waited. I did everything right. And yet, my mate hasn’t appeared." I press my hands together, jaw tightening. "The pack needs stability. I need an heir eventually. We’re running out of time to hope for something that may never happen."

"Still," Xzavier murmurs, "it’s not just about the pack, is it?"

I don’t answer.

Because it isn’t.

Because not having a mate isn’t just an inconvenience—it’s necessary. A truth only a few understand. One that can never leave this room.

Alex shifts his weight. "We trust you. But choosing someone—" He pauses. "Just be sure, Ronan."

I nod, but the weight in my chest doesn’t ease.

"Get some rest," I tell them, pushing back from my desk. "We leave at dawn."

They file out, but I don’t follow. Instead, I stare at the flickering candlelight, the flames shifting in a way that feels unnatural.

**

I find myself in unfamiliar territory.

The trees here are ancient, their massive trunks stretching high into the night sky, their branches woven together to form a thick canopy. Only a few beams of silver light pierce through, illuminating patches of the moss-covered ground. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and something else—something old, untouched by time.

I don’t know how I got here. One moment, I was in my bed; the next, I’m standing in this vast forest, the silence pressing in around me.

As if sensing my thoughts, a figure emerges from the shadows. A massive wolf, its fur jet black and sleek, moves with an eerie grace. It’s easily the same size my own wolf would be if I had shifted—but I’m not in my wolf form. I’m just… here. Watching.

The wolf doesn’t bare its teeth, doesn’t snarl or show any signs of aggression. Instead, she studies me with an unnerving stillness, her dark eyes reflecting the slivers of moonlight that manage to break through the treetops. There’s something familiar about her, though I can’t place why—until she shifts slightly, and I see it.

A marking, barely visible against her dark fur.

A crescent-shaped birthmark near her left shoulder.

The sight of it sends a jolt through me, a flicker of recognition I can’t explain. I know that mark. But how?

She glances past me, as if acknowledging someone unseen. Then, without hesitation, she begins to walk.

The moment she moves past me, I feel it—a pull. A deep, instinctive urge to follow. It’s not fear that compels me, but something stronger. Something unexplainable.

I trail after her, my footsteps soundless on the forest floor. We walk in silence, moving through the towering trees until we reach a clearing.

The moment I step out from the tree line, I recognize where we are.

The realization slams into me like a physical blow.

This place… I know it.

I came here as a boy.

The Alpha Pack Games were once held in this very clearing, grand tournaments meant to test a pack’s strength, speed, and endurance. It was also a sacred place, where we honored the Three Goddesses. But those traditions died with the fall of the Royals. Now, this place should be abandoned, lost to time and neglect.

And yet—it isn’t.

The arena looks untouched. The structures, the massive stone pillars that marked the entrance, stand tall, unweathered by the years. The banners that should have rotted away long ago still hang, their colors vibrant under the moonlight.

It’s as if time itself forgot to pass through here.

I must have gotten lost in my thoughts because, when I snap back to reality, I realize the black wolf is sitting at the far edge of the clearing, watching me patiently. Waiting.

I jog toward her, mumbling, “Sorry.”

She doesn’t respond, just rises to her feet and continues forward. I follow without hesitation, the sound of my own breathing the only noise in the vast emptiness.

Then we reach the bridge.

The last connection between this sacred land and the fortress beyond—the Royals’ packhouse.

And just like that, the world shifts.

I’m no longer beside the black wolf.

Instead, I stand at the edge of a memory that isn’t mine.

Three figures in cloaks stand before me, their hoods drawn low over their faces. Witches. Their whispered voices weave through the air like a spell, their urgency palpable.

I try to focus, but the words are muffled, distorted, like I’m hearing them through water.

Then, as if I’ve been pulled into their circle, the voices sharpen.

“…if this place falls, we protect the heir at all costs. It’s the only way to save our world.”

“The False King will bring imbalance…”

“We must ensure the heir is hidden…”

Static fills the air, the memory flickering, breaking apart.

“…hope that… make… way ho—”

I shoot upright in bed, my heart hammering in my chest.