Chapter Ten
What have I done?
That was the only thought screaming in my head as I dropped to my knees beside Isaac—my father—who lay groaning on the floor, a silver blade buried deep in his stomach. My hands trembled as I reached for the hilt, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might shatter my ribs.
"Dad!" My voice cracked as I pulled the blade out, blood smearing my fingers. His breath hitched in pain, and guilt clawed at my chest so violently that I almost couldn't breathe.
Closing my eyes, I forced myself to focus. You can fix this. You can fix this.
I pressed my palms over the wound, and green light bloomed between my fingers—soft at first, then glowing brighter, pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat. The air vibrated faintly as my energy surged, knitting torn flesh together at an unnatural speed.
When the light faded, I was shaking. My father groaned again, then slowly sat up, pressing a hand to his now-healed stomach. "Luna… what is wrong with you?" His voice was a mix of anger and disbelief. "You almost killed me!"
Tears burned behind my eyes. "I—I'm sorry, Dad. I thought it was the Lightning Tribe after me."
He sighed heavily, his expression softening as he pulled me into a tight hug. "I'm just glad you're safe," he whispered against my hair. The warmth of his embrace hit something deep inside me, and for a brief moment, I felt like a child again—safe, forgiven.
"Thank you, Dad," I murmured, hugging him back.
A pointed cough broke the silence.
Tom stood nearby, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. "Uh… I hate to interrupt this touching family moment, but maybe we should focus on the half-dead guy over there?"
I blinked, realizing John was still unconscious on the floor. The sight of him jolted me back to reality. "John!" I rushed to his side just as his eyes fluttered open.
"Where… am I?" he muttered weakly.
Before I could answer, I felt my father tense beside me. His gaze hardened the moment he saw John. "It's the Alpha of the Lightning Pack," he hissed. In one swift motion, he drew a gun from his back pocket. "Get behind me, kids."
"Dad, no!" I stepped between them, my heart leaping into my throat. "Calm down. I brought him here."
Isaac's brows furrowed. "What do you mean, you brought him? Luna, if he's threatening you, don't worry—I'll protect you."
"No, you don't understand." I grabbed his wrist, lowering the gun slowly. "He saved me—from the Lightning Pack. And from a hunter. He's my savior."
My father looked from me to John, disbelief clouding his eyes.
Ignoring the tension, I knelt beside John, who struggled to sit up. "How are you feeling?" I asked softly.
He gave a weak smile. "Just a little sore. What happened, Luna?"
"You fainted from blood loss," I explained. "The chains they used on you—they weren't normal. They stopped your natural healing. Some kind of cursed silver, I think."
John let out a dry laugh. "So that's why I couldn't break free. I guess this time… you saved me."
My cheeks warmed. "Don't worry about it."
For a moment, we just stared at each other, lost in the quiet. His gaze softened, and my heartbeat grew louder, faster. We leaned in unconsciously, breath mingling, until my father's sharp voice sliced through the moment.
"Since you've healed," he said stiffly, "you can leave now."
"Dad!" I shot him a glare. "John just woke up. He needs rest."
"He needs to leave before his pack tracks his scent here," Isaac snapped. "I lost you once, Luna. I won't lose you again."
I opened my mouth to argue, but John gently squeezed my hand. "He's right," he said quietly. "If I stay, they'll find this place. I won't risk that."
My chest tightened painfully. "But if you leave… where will you go? Will I ever see you again?" The words tumbled out, fragile and trembling.
He met my eyes, his expression unreadable. "If fate deems it, we'll see each other again, Luna."
He brushed his lips against my forehead, warm and fleeting, then wiped the tears I hadn't realized were falling. And just like that, he turned and walked away.
I stood there frozen, my heart sinking with every step he took toward the door. When the sound of it closing finally echoed through the house, I spun toward my father, anger burning through my veins.
"Why did you chase him out?" I demanded. "He saved me!"
Isaac's jaw tightened. "Luna, you're the Saint of the Werewolves. You shouldn't be seen with other males outside the clan—it's forbidden."
"I never asked to be your saint!" I shot back. "You and the elders can take your stupid title and give it to someone else!"
His eyes flared with frustration, but his tone stayed calm. "The Saint title isn't something we give, Luna. It's chosen—destined. It's only granted to a Lycan who carries the seven sacred traits, and that happens only once in a thousand years. If you reject it, the balance will break. The consequences could destroy our kind."
The weight of his words hit me like a storm, and though part of me wanted to keep fighting, another part—the part that saw the fear in his eyes—knew he was only trying to protect me.
I swallowed my anger. "Fine," I whispered, turning away.
Tom, clearly desperate to change the topic, cleared his throat. "Um… sorry to ruin the mood, but Luna, you've got school tomorrow. Everyone's getting suspicious about your sudden disappearance."
I sighed. Right. I couldn't afford to draw attention—not from humans, and definitely not from hunters. My identity had to stay hidden. "Yeah, I'll go," I muttered.
---
The Next Morning
Bridgewood High looked exactly the same—rows of lockers, chatter echoing down the hallways, the faint smell of cheap perfume and coffee. It should've felt normal. But after everything that had happened, I felt like I didn't belong here anymore.
Stephanie spotted me almost immediately. Her long blonde hair shimmered under the fluorescent lights, perfectly styled as always. Her sky-blue eyes widened as she ran toward me.
"Luna! Oh my God, where have you been? Everyone's been looking for you!" she exclaimed, hugging me tight.
I forced a small laugh, opening my locker to avoid her gaze. "My grandma was sick," I lied smoothly. "I went to see her."
Stephanie gasped. "Oh no, is she okay?"
"She's better now," I said, giving her a quick smile that didn't quite reach my eyes.
"Oh, good." She leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "By the way, Damien's been asking about you."
My blood ran cold. "What?" The name left my lips like a curse. "Who did you say?"
"Damien," she repeated, clearly oblivious to the storm inside me. "He's been asking where you went. I didn't know he cared that much—oh! There he is now!"
I followed her pointing finger—and my entire body froze.
There he was. Damien. The werewolf hunter who should have been dead. The same man I watched fall lifeless in the first with blade in his skull.
He was alive.
He looked straight at me, his lips curving into a cold, knowing smile before turning and walking away. My heart thudded violently in my chest as the hallway blurred around me.
"How the hell is he alive?" I whispered under my breath, dread creeping up my spine.
And just like that, everything I thought I knew shattered again.