The night before she crossed into BloodMoon territory, Selene buried her name.
She stood in the clearing under a broken moon, the wind clawing at her cloak like it, too, wanted her to reconsider. Behind her, the Outlands stretched into silence; feral, godless. Before her: the territory of one of the most feared packs in the northern range.
BloodMoon.
She'd heard the stories. Everyone had.
Ruthless Alpha. Unshakable warriors. No room for mistakes. No room for spies.
Perfect.
Selene took a knee and opened the satchel at her feet. Inside, her tools lay in neat, familiar rows: forged identification papers, a blood-stained tunic, a vial of wolfsbane extract for temporary scent masking, and a blade no larger than her thumb, disguised as a comb.
She didn't need many weapons. She was the weapon.
Selene pressed her fingers to her temple, then her chest, whispering the last rites of her cover. "Lina. Omega. Injured. Desperate."
The mission was simple. Infiltrate the BloodMoon Pack. Locate Alpha Kael. Kill him.
She'd done worse.
Her handler had warned her: Kael was not like other Alphas. He was a relic of an older breed; one born during the Purge, a war-born predator raised among the corpses of lesser wolves. Smart. Lethal. Scarred in ways no amount of blood could cleanse.
Which is why they sent her.
Selene walked until the scent markers burned her lungs; cedar, smoke, and raw dominance. A warning. She staggered now, pulling her tunic to the side, exposing the wound she'd sliced across her own shoulder. Shallow, but messy. Enough to bleed. Enough to sell the illusion.
Then she collapsed just past the warding stones. Right into their trap. Or rather, hers. They found her within minutes.
Rough hands hauled her upright. A growl at her ear. Demands barked in clipped, foreign accents.
Selene didn't flinch. She didn't have to. Her story was already written on her body.
She coughed up blood (wolfberry extract— tasted like shit), let her limbs tremble, her breath rattle, her eyes roll back just slightly. She mumbled the practiced lines: "Please… I'm not a threat… rogue chased me for days…"
It was enough.
They bound her wrists loosely; testing, watching— but she let her head loll and her legs drag as they pulled her toward their fortress.
Every second was a performance.
Every second was survival.
Hours later, when the guards finally handed her off to the pack's Beta; an imposing male with frost in his beard and suspicion in his eyes, Selene bowed her head and made herself small. The role was second nature by now. She'd been a dozen wolves before this. Broken. Abandoned. Forgettable.
"Name?" he asked.
"Lina," she croaked. "I-I don't remember my old one."
He didn't believe her. Good. Let doubt fester. Let it breed caution. Caution slowed decisions. Caution bought her time.
As they approached the gates of the BloodMoon compound, the ground rumbled faintly beneath her boots. A pulse. Not from the earth. From him.
She felt Kael's presence before she ever saw him. Like a shadow behind her skin. Like gravity.
Selene clenched her jaw. This was a mission. A mark. A job. Not fate. Not a mate.
Still, her wolf stirred in her chest for the first time in months, nervous. Hungry. Stupid creature.
The gates creaked open.
And Selene stepped through them, wearing fear like armor, lies like perfume, and the scent of blood like a welcome mat.
Let the game begin.