Hunting My Outcast Luna

Twelve

Something cold settles in my stomach. A pack that treats its own like an outcast for something beyond their control? I know the type. His tone carries something I wasn’t expecting—certainty.

I study him, weighing his words. He has no reason to lie to me, not when his Alpha is already “She defeated a feral,” I say carefully. “With no wolf.”

Kellan meets my gaze, his expression unreadable. “She did.”

For a moment, I just stood there, the implications pressing heavy against my mind. A human—or what, a wolf without a shift?—taking down a feral. It shouldn’t be possible.

And somehow she did. Now she’s important enough that the King himself is after her.

I exhaled.. But I will.

“Take me to where she escaped.” Kellan nods once and starts walking. And as I follow, a single thought lingers.

Who the hell is this girl?

We set up camp near the border. The moon hangs high, not quite full, but close enough that its presence weighs on my wolf. He’s quiet—unsettled. I can feel it too, a lingering tension in my bones, like the air before a storm.

Alex and Xzavier sit around the fire, exchanging glances, their faces flickering in the glow.

“Well,” Xzavier says, stretching his arms above his head, “that wasn’t suspicious at all.”

Alex scoffs. “Think they want us to find her? Or just clean up their mess?”

“Both.”

Xzavier smirks. “You really think she stole something?”

“No,” I say without hesitation. “But I don’t care. I’m here to find her. That’s the deal.”

Silence settles over us, but it isn’t comfortable. I glance toward Kellan, who stands apart from the firelight, leaning against a tree, his gaze fixed on the dark expanse of the woods. His posture is stiff, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

Xzavier follows my gaze and grins. “Lover boy, why don’t you come sit with us? Relax a little. Sounds like she’s stronger than most.”

Kellan doesn’t even acknowledge him, just grumbles something under his breath before disappearing into his tent.

Xzavier sighs dramatically. “Tough crowd.”

Because something about all this doesn’t add up.

The weapon. The fights. The ferals.

The way Grant kept calling her the girl, like he refused to say her name.

Zarya.

I exhaled, my gaze shifting to the dark treeline beyond the fire. The woods stretch endlessly, black and silent, as if waiting. The fire crackles between us, sending flickering shadows dancing across the forest floor. The air is thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, but beneath it, something else lingers—something I can’t quite name.

My wolf paces beneath my skin, restless. He doesn’t like this. Neither do I.

Alex tosses a twig into the fire and leans back on his elbows, exhaling slowly.

“Alright, so are we going to talk about the fact that we didn’t see a single rogue the whole way here?”

Xzavier nods, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, that’s been bugging me. Unclaimed land for twenty miles, and not one damn rogue? Either they’re all dead, or something scared them off.”

Alex frowns. “Bloodmoon could’ve cleared them out,” he suggests, but even he doesn’t sound convinced.

I shook my head. “Grant doesn’t care enough to waste resources like that. Rogues don’t usually linger in one place unless there’s something keeping them there. If they were around, we would’ve seen at least a few.”

Xzavier exhales sharply, rubbing his jaw. “So, either they’re hiding, or someone made them disappear.” His eyes flick to me, sharp and knowing. “Think it has to do with your girl?”

I don’t answer. My mind is already working through the pieces of this puzzle. Zarya ran. But where? If she didn’t steal anything, then why the lie? And why was Grant so eager to hand over his own warrior to help us?

“She could’ve gone north,” Alex offers, shifting forward. “There’s a lot of ground to cover before the next pack territory, but if she was smart, she’d aim for somewhere she could hide. A rogue camp, maybe.”

Xzavier scoffs. “That’s assuming she wants to hide. If what Kellan said is true, she’s been surviving on her own for years without a wolf. She doesn’t strike me as the type to just disappear.”

He’s right. Everything about this feels wrong. If she was just another runaway, this would be easier to read. But Zarya fought. She won. She survived Bloodmoon. And now she’s gone, leaving behind a pack that seems almost relieved to see her go.

I nod slowly. “No, but it's possible she’s heading somewhere.” I glance toward Kellan’s tent. “And I think he knows more than he’s letting on.”

Alex huffs. “He definitely has a thing for her.”

Xzavier grins. “Yeah, I’m starting to think this whole ‘helping us find her’ act is more like ‘helping us not find her.’”

That thought had already crossed my mind. Kellan was watching his Alpha too closely back at the packhouse, measuring his words. And now, he’s out here with us, playing the part of a reluctant guide. Too cooperative. Too careful.

“We push him for answers in the morning,” I say. “For now, we rest. At dawn, we track her.”

I ran a hand through my hair, my gaze settling on the fire, its glow casting jagged shadows against the trees. “She’s still a day and a half ahead of us. If she’s smart, she’ll keep moving. If she’s desperate, she’ll stop.”

Alex shakes his head. “And if we don’t find her?”

I glance at the moon hanging low in the sky, its glow casting silver light over the trees. My wolf stirs, uneasy.

“We will.”

The forest stretches endlessly before me, bathed in silver light. The trees whisper-soft, overlapping voices that twist through the air like a chorus of ghosts. Their words slip just beyond my grasp, shifting, changing. Calling.

I am running. Chasing something. Or maybe something is chasing me.

The ground moves beneath my feet, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and something wilder, something primal. My breath comes in ragged gasps, but there is no exhaustion, no strain—only an insatiable hunger. A need to hunt.

Then, I see it.

A figure stands beneath the full moon, half-hidden in the shadows. Its form flickers—wolf, then something more. Something monstrous. The glow of its eyes burns through the darkness, locked onto me.

A pull tightens in my chest, sharp and unrelenting. I know this creature.

Because it’s me.

The curse stirs inside me, deep and ancient, whispering the same promise it always does. Not yet, but soon.

The figure lunges.

The earth trembles beneath my feet, and suddenly, I’m not the hunter—I’m the hunted. The whispers rise into a deafening roar, voices crashing over each other—Not yet. Not yet.

Then—

I wake.

My heart pounds against my ribs, breath coming hard and fast. Sweat slicks my skin despite the cool night air. The fire has burned low, embers pulsing weakly in the dark. Outside, the moon hangs just shy of full, casting pale light over the treetops.

My wolf is restless, pacing beneath my skin, instincts screaming at me.

Because I know what’s coming.

I always have.

I drag a hand down my face, my pulse still pounding in my ears. The dream lingers, thick and cloying, like the scent of blood that isn't there. My wolf stirs, uneasy, and I know why.

This isn't just a nightmare. It never is.

The curse-the thing woven into my bloodline- won’t be outrun. It won't be bargained with. It doesnt care who I choose, who I try to love, who I pretend might be my salvation. But there is no salvation. Choosing someone other than my fated mate won't be able to stop it. It never could.

The bond might be my only chance to keep the darkness at bay. Or maybe it's just another cruel trick of fate, another way to make me hope before it all crumbles.

Either way, the full moon is coming. And I am running out of time. This is happening faster than I thought it would. I don’t bother trying to go back to sleep. The dream- the warning- still clings to me, and i know rest won’t come.

Instead, I push aside my blanket and reach for my pack, pulling out a worn leather map. The edges are curled, the ink slightly faded from years of use, but the layout is clear.

I smooth it out against my knee, eyes tracing the familiar landmarks. We’re camped near the northeastern border of Bloodmoon’s territory. Past that is about a hundred miles of unclaimed land—a stretch filled with rogues, outcasts, and those too dangerous or desperate to belong anywhere else. They’re the only thing standing between here and Stormveil.

Keep going north, and you hit the sea. That place is even more unforgiving. The storms alone could drown a wolf, and whatever lives beneath those waters? I don’t care to find out.

Keep going north, and you hit the sea. That place is even more unforgiving. The storms alone could drown a wolf, and whatever lives beneath those waters? I don’t care to find out.

She’ll either be barely alive or she’ll have found allies.

The pack closest to us now is Stormveil. If she’s heading for safety, that’s where she’ll go. If not… she’ll be in a rogue camp.

I press my knuckles against my temple, exhaling slowly.

I don’t even know what this girl looks like.

It will take at least a full day’s travel to reach Stormveil. If I remember correctly, Alpha Rowen still rules, holding onto his title until his daughter finds a mate. That means getting into his land won’t be easy.

Rowen doesn’t trust outsiders.

And he has good reason.

His people fear one thing above all else—that someone will come for the Dragon.