(Rosa's POV)
The walls of Lunar seemed to breathe around her. Every sound—the hum of hidden machinery, the soft shuffle of footsteps, the distant rhythm of music—merged into something alive. Rosa's thoughts spun in a dizzying storm, trying to catch up with everything she had seen. This place was no ordinary club; it was a heart beating beneath the city, alive with secrets and shadows. The air vibrated with power, and every glance thrown her way carried both curiosity and caution. She wasn't just an outsider anymore. Something in her blood had changed, and even the walls seemed to know it.
Marshal led her deeper through the dim corridors, his hand resting lightly at her back. The touch was subtle, guiding her with quiet authority, yet it burned through the thin fabric of her blouse. It wasn't just contact—it was connection. Rosa couldn't decide if she wanted to step away or lean into it. The further they went, the more she noticed the reverence in every passing gaze. Wolves lowered their heads when he walked by. Conversations stilled until he passed. He wasn't just a man here—he was power given form.
She finally found her voice. "Why am I here, Marshal? Why does my blood matter to you?"
His eyes flicked toward her, and shadows danced behind the darkness within them. "Because it's not just your blood, Rosa. It's a lineage that should have died out centuries ago."
Her pulse stumbled. "What does that even mean?"
"It means you were never supposed to exist," he said softly. "And now that you do, every faction that still believes in the old prophecies will come for you."
The words struck deep, hollowing her chest. Rosa had spent her life chasing stories, but nothing had prepared her to be one. The shimmer beneath her skin pulsed again, as if confirming to him every word.
They stepped into a large chamber lined with stone pillars and golden light. The elders were waiting—three of them, still as statues but radiating quiet authority. The silver-haired leader stepped forward, eyes sharp and searching.
"She carries the shimmer," he said, his voice filling the space. "The mark of Moonblood."
The other elder hissed softly. "Then the balance will break."
Rosa jerked stiff. "What do you mean?"
The silver-haired man studied her closely. "The Moonblood line was bound to the first Alpha—the bond between power and its keeper. You were meant to remain hidden. If that power awakens, the world you know will not survive it."
Her chest cinched painfully. "That's insane. I'm just—
It was Marshal's voice that cut through hers-clear, steady, firm. "She is not just anything.
Rosa turned toward him, taken aback by the quiet anger in his tone. "You're defending me?"
He stepped closer, his eyes locking on hers. "I'm protecting what's mine to protect."
The words hit her harder than they should. Something passed between them, unsaid, but raw and magnetic in the air. The nearness of him stole her breath, and for one dangerous second, she forgot the room full of watching eyes.
A low voice interrupted the two. The youngest elder spoke from the shadows. "Protect her, yes—but understand this. The Moonblood carries more than power. It carries memory."
"Memory?" Rosa asked.
He nodded slowly. "Echoes of what came before. The first bonds. The first betrayals. The blood remembers everything."
A strange chill rippled through her. She thought of the nightmares that had plagued her for weeks—wolves beneath a silver sky, a man with Marshal's eyes calling her name. She had dismissed them as dreams, but now they clawed at her mind like warnings.
Before she could speak, the heavy door at the end of the corridor burst open. A young wolf stumbled in, panting, his eyes wide with fear. "Intruders," he gasped. "They've crossed the perimeter."
The pack moved instantly. The air thickened with adrenaline and instinct. Rosa could feel it—the electricity of wolves on edge, their breaths syncing into a single rhythm. Marshal's demeanor changed in an instant. His calm turned into command.
He turned to her. "Stay behind me."
"Who are they?" she asked, with shaking voice.
"The ones who hunt what they fear," he said. "And they fear you, Rosa."
Before she could say anything, footsteps sounded from beyond the corridor—measured, deliberate, and far too calm for intruders. Marshal's hand closed around hers, anchoring her in place. "Do not run," he warned.
The silver-haired elder's voice dropped to a murmur. "If they've found her already, it means the call has begun."
Marshal didn't respond to him. He edged closer to Rosa, his face inches from hers. "Whatever happens, look at me. Not them."
Her lips parted, her breath shaky. "Why?"
"Because if you look away," he said, voice low and dangerous, "you'll forget who you are."
The door creaked open. Three strangers stepped into the chamber, their silhouettes long against the flickering candlelight. They moved like predators—calm, silent, certain. The leader smiled when his gaze fell on Rosa.
"The Moonblood," he said, his tone smooth as oil. "Alive after all this time."
A low rumble spread through Marshal's throat. "You're not leaving here with her."
The man's smirk deepened. "You think she's yours to keep?
Rosa's skin prickled as the shimmer beneath her skin ignited, spreading warmth through her veins. The leader's eyes flicked to the glow, his smile faltering. "It's awakening," he whispered.
The change struck Marshal, too. He turned to her, his voice urgent. "Rosa, listen to me. You have to breathe. Don't fight it."
"I don't know what's happening!" she cried.
He reached for her hands, wrapping his around them. "Then let me help you."
The warmth of his touch steadied the chaos inside her. Her pulse slowed, syncing with his. For a brief moment, the world around them blurred. All she could see was him—the heat in his gaze, the unspoken promise in the way his thumb brushed against her skin.
Then it all fell apart.
The intruders lunged forward. The pack exploded into motion, the room filled with movement, sound, and fury. Marshal pulled her behind him, moving with impossible speed. Every strike, every growl, every movement was a dance of precision. Rosa could only watch, torn between awe and terror.
When it finally was, silence fell heavy, sharp. The intruders lay broken, their bodies dissipating into ash.
Marshal turned to her, his breathing harsh, yet steady. "This is only the beginning," he said.
Rosa swallowed hard. "Then tell me what comes next."
His expression softened but his eyes remained inscrutable. "You learn to survive. And you learn what you are."
She looked down at her arm, to where the shimmer still glowed faintly beneath her skin. "And what if I don't want this?"
Marshal's voice was a whisper now, almost tender. "You don't get to choose anymore. The moon's already chosen you."
Before she could answer, a low growl echoed from deep within the tunnels. It was different this time—closer, heavier, filled with hunger. The flames flickered, throwing wild shadows across the walls. Marshal's eyes lifted toward the sound, then back to her.
"Get ready," he said quietly. "They're not coming for the pack this time."
Rosa's voice shook. "Then who?"
Marshal's hand found hers again, his grip firm, possessive. "They're coming for you." The words lingered in the air like a vow and a warning. And as the howl rose again from the dark, Rosa knew the world she once belonged to was gone forever.
To be continued…