Hunting My Outcast Luna

Ten

I tensed. Her expression softened. “That’s okay. I didn’t shift until I turned twenty-one—just after the last Blue Moon. I spent years thinking something was wrong with me, but it happened when the time was right. Maybe it’ll be the same for you.”

I swallowed hard. I didn’t like thinking about my missing wolf. It was easier to pretend it didn’t bother me.

Myla didn’t give me time to dwell on it. “Come on, then. Since you don’t have your wolf, you’re riding with me.”

I blinked. “What?”

She grinned, rolling her shoulders. “You’ll slow us down on foot, and we need to avoid the patrols. It’ll be easier if we stick together and move fast.”

Her mate huffed. “You sure about that?”

She shot him a look. “I carried you halfway back to camp when you got that nasty gash on your leg.”

“Fair point.”

I hesitated. “Are you sure? I can just walk.”

“I’m sure,” Myla said. “And besides, no offense, but you look like you haven’t eaten in days. You’ll thank me later.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Fine. But if I fall, I’m blaming you.”

Myla just smirked before shifting, her silver-gray wolf standing tall as she shook herself off. Her enchanted clothes melted into her form, untouched by the shift. She turned, crouching slightly.

I hesitated, then swung onto her back, gripping her fur for balance.

Dian chuckled. “Never seen a wolf carry someone like that before. You really are something different.”

I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He gave me a sideways glance, his dark eyes thoughtful. “That hair of yours. Black with a white streak? And those violet eyes?” He let out a low whistle. “You don’t see that every day. There are stories about markings like that.”

A chill ran down my spine. “What kind of stories?”

He shrugged. “Depends who you ask. Some say Royals had eyes like yours. Others say people with marks like that are touched by something… old.”

I stiffened but kept quiet. I wasn’t ready to dive into whatever that meant.

The wind rushed past as we moved swiftly through the forest, Myla’s powerful strides steady beneath me. It was strange, being carried like this, but I had to admit—it was exhilarating. The trees blurred together in streaks of green and brown, the cool night air brushing against my skin.

I had barely processed what I had agreed to. I was going to Blackthorn. I was willingly walking into another pack’s territory, hoping they wouldn’t just kill me on sight. The logical part of me screamed that this was a bad idea. But the part of me that had spent the last two days completely alone, starving and exhausted, knew I didn’t have many options.

After a while, Myla slowed. Her mate, Dian, along with several others, emerged from the shadows ahead. They had been waiting.

I slid off Myla’s back, landing lightly on my feet. Dian’s gaze flickered to me, guarded but curious.

As we entered the clearing, heads turned. A dozen figures, hardened by life on the run, watched us with varying expressions—curiosity, suspicion, amusement.

A tall woman with sharp blue eyes crossed her arms. “Who’s this?”

Dian helped me down from Myla’s back before answering. “A runaway from Bloodmoon.”

Murmurs rippled through the group.

The woman’s gaze swept over me, lingering on my hair, then my eyes. “You look like trouble.”

I met her stare without flinching. “Good. I plan to be.”

A beat of silence—then, to my surprise, she grinned. “I like her.”

Laughter broke out, and just like that, the tension eased.

Dian leaned in slightly, voice low. “You should know… rogues aren’t all the same. Some will kill you for stepping into their territory. But my group? We take care of our own.” He met my gaze. “That includes you—if you want it.”

I swallowed. I wasn’t used to the idea of belonging anywhere. But maybe, just for tonight, I could pretend I did.

The sun was sinking below the tree line, painting the sky in streaks of deep orange and purple. My stomach twisted painfully at the scent of something rich and savory lingering in the air. I hadn’t eaten a real meal in days—maybe longer. I’d stopped keeping track.

The rogue camp wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t just a group of outcasts clinging to survival—it felt… lived in. There were makeshift tents, a few scattered fires, and people moving around with a sense of purpose. They weren’t just surviving; they were trying to build something.

Dian led Myla and me toward the largest fire pit, where a heavy iron pot hung over the flames, steam curling into the night air. My stomach growled loudly, betraying me. A few rogues glanced “You look like you need a meal,” a man with dark brown hair streaked with gray observed. His sharp green eyes studied me with quiet calculation.

Dian smirked. “That’s Jasper. He sees everything.”

Jasper shrugged. “It keeps us alive.”

A burly man with a thick beard, seated beside him, let out a low chuckle. “Don’t mind him. He just likes acting mysterious.” He gave me a friendly nod. “I’m Henry.”

Across from him, a woman with wild curls and a confident smirk tilted her head at me. Her dark skin caught the firelight, giving her an almost ethereal glow. “Star,” she introduced herself, voice smooth. “You’re interesting.”

I blinked. “I am?”

She motioned to my hair. “Black with a white birthmark streak? Violet eyes? You don’t exactly blend in.”

I hesitated, not sure how to respond. I wasn’t used to standing out, at least not in a way that wasn’t dangerous.

Dian dropped onto a log, stretching out his legs. “You got lucky. We don’t eat like this every night.”

“Why not?” I asked, sitting across from him.

Jasper, a lean man with dark brown hair streaked with hints of gray, poked at the fire with a stick. “Because food isn’t easy to come by when you don’t have a pack’s resources.”

“We take what we can,” another rogue added. “Hunting is harder with how many people are rogue now. The forests are overhunted, and any good trade routes belong to the packs.”

Henry nodded. “Most of our supplies come from food wagons.”

I frowned. “You steal them?”

Star smirked. “We survive.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but I didn’t judge. Survival wasn’t pretty.

Myla shifted uncomfortably. I could tell she wasn’t completely at ease with the idea either, but she didn’t argue.

“The King’s made things worse,” Jasper muttered. “More and more rogue groups are forming, and not all of them are like us. Some don’t care about surviving—they just want chaos.”

A chill ran down my spine. “The King controls rogue groups?”

Jasper’s expression darkened. “Not just controls them—he uses them. If the King is in the unclaimed lands, most rogues go into hiding unless they’re working for him.”

That explained why the forest had been so empty when I escaped.

Jasper studied me for a moment before adding, “Wherever you were hiding, it was a smart choice. The King passed through here almost two days ago, heading to Bloodmoon.”

I swallowed hard. That explained why I hadn’t encountered any hunters or patrols. I’d been lucky. I swallowed hard. That was too close for comfort.

Jasper leaned back, his expression darkening. “I used to be with Dravenbolt.”

That caught my attention. “What happened?”

His jaw tightened. “Dravenbolt’s Alpha is an evil bastard. My job was to scout ShadowCrest. Our Alpha wanted their training techniques so he could attack them.”

I felt a chill. “And?”

Jasper exhaled sharply. “I got caught.”

Dian whistled low. “How’d you survive?”

Jasper’s lips twitched. “Alpha Ronan is a smart man. He knew I was lying, saw right through it. But instead of killing me, he let me go.”

That surprised me. “Why?”

Jasper shook his head. “I still don’t know. Maybe he saw something in me, or maybe he wanted me to return to Dravenbolt and lead my Alpha into a trap.” He let out a humorless chuckle. “Didn’t matter. I never went back. If I had, my Alpha would’ve killed me for failing.”

Henry frowned. “What about you, Zarya? Where’d you come from?”

I hesitated. “Bloodmoon.”

Jasper raised a brow. “Really? What was it like?”

I swallowed hard. “It was… good. Once.” My voice hardened. “Until Alpha Darius died.”

The group went quiet.

“That’s when the fights started,” I continued, gripping the wooden bowl in my hands. “Alpha Grant made survival a game. There was no hiding, not for me. He wanted me dead.”

Dian frowned. “Why?”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Because I wouldn’t break.”

They all exchanged looks, waiting for me to continue.

I exhaled. “When he took over, he started throwing wolves into those fights for entertainment. If you won, you survived. If you lost, you were either dead or as good as. I was never given a choice—I had to fight every time. He kept putting me in that pit, hoping I’d die.” My fingers tightened around the bowl. “But I didn’t.”

Jasper studied me carefully. “You won. Over and over.”

I nodded.

Henry let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

Dian’s gaze darkened. “And you still managed to escape?”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “Barely.”

Silence stretched between us.

Finally, Star broke it. “Well, damn. No wonder you look like you’ve been starved your whole life. They probably never fed you enough to keep your strength up.”

I forced a small smile. “This is the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”

Henry grinned. “Told you, Jasper. We should open a tavern.”

Jasper snorted. “Right. ‘The Rogue’s Retreat.’ Sure.”

Eventually, Myla cleared her throat. “So, what’s the plan for Stormveil?”

The group exchanged glances.

“All of us going together makes the most sense,” Dian said. “Safety in numbers.”

I shook my head. “That’s a bad idea.”

Dian raised a brow. “Oh?”

I gestured around the camp. “Given the reputation of rogues, if all of us show up at once, Alpha Rowen is going to be on edge. He’ll see it as an invasion.”

The others murmured in agreement, realizing I was right.

“So what do you suggest?” Jasper asked.

I glanced at Myla. “You, Dian, and I should go alone. The others should stay out of sight but close enough if something goes wrong.”

Jasper smirked. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”

I met his gaze steadily. “I’ve spent my whole life figuring out how to survive.”

Dian nodded. “Alright. We’ll do it your way.”