Chapter 8: Sparks in the Shadows
The Bloodmoon training grounds were a sprawl of raw earth and old scars, a battleground that had forged warriors for generations. Today, though, they weren’t just shaping warriors—they were testing loyalty, dominance, and the boundaries of what a rogue like Louve Ralph could survive.
The air was sharp with morning frost, each breath a small puff of white in the cold. Louve stood on the far edge of the grounds, shoulders squared, refusing to shiver under the gazes boring into her. She could feel them—dozens of eyes, weighing, judging, daring her to make a single wrong move.
Kael—no, Alpha Dolph—was at the center of the circle, his towering frame commanding silence without a single word. His silver-flecked eyes swept over his pack, lingering on Louve for the briefest heartbeat before moving on.
“The Moonbane prophecy is spreading,” Dolph began, his voice low but lethal, like steel dragging over stone. “Lucien has spies even in our shadows. We cannot afford weakness. We cannot afford doubt.” His gaze cut back to Louve, sharp enough to flay. “Today, we train harder than ever. Today, we separate wolves from sheep.”
A ripple of approval tore through the crowd. The words weren’t just a warning—they were a challenge, and Louve knew who the real target was.
Me. Always me.
Seraphine stepped forward, her beauty as cold as frostbite. The Beta carried authority like a blade, and right now, that blade was pointed straight at Louve.
“Permission to test the rogue,” Seraphine said, voice dipped in silk and venom.
Louve’s stomach clenched. Not from fear—not entirely—but from the simmering awareness that this wasn’t just a test of skill. It was a public trial.
Dolph didn’t answer immediately. His jaw flexed, the only sign of a decision warring inside him. Then, he gave a single curt nod.
The circle widened. Louve stepped forward because hesitation would be blood in the water. Seraphine smirked like a cat toying with a mouse.
“I hope you last longer than the last stray,” Seraphine murmured, low enough for only Louve to hear. “He begged before the end.”
Louve’s heart hammered, but her lips curled into a razor smile. “Guess you’ll find out what begging sounds like… when you’re the one doing it.”
A gasp rippled through the circle. Even Dolph’s head tilted slightly, silver eyes glinting with something unreadable—approval? Amusement? Annoyance? Hard to tell with him.
The whistle blew.
Seraphine lunged first—fast, ruthless, all claws and precision. Louve barely rolled aside in time, dirt biting into her palms as Seraphine’s strike shredded the space where her ribs had been a second ago. The Beta didn’t fight fair—she fought like a wolf who’d kill to keep her throne.
Louve scrambled up, instincts screaming. Her wolf surged beneath her skin, urging her to shift, but no—this was human form combat. Pack law. No claws, no fangs. Just strength, speed, and grit.
Seraphine struck again, a blur of fists and fury. Louve blocked, barely, the shock rattling up her arm. Pain flared. Seraphine was stronger, faster—but Louve had one advantage: desperation.
Every punch Seraphine threw, Louve absorbed like lessons written in bruises. By the fifth hit, she wasn’t just defending—she was predicting. When Seraphine swung for her head again, Louve ducked low, swept her leg, and sent the Beta sprawling into the dirt.
The crowd roared.
Louve didn’t gloat—she couldn’t. Seraphine was already on her feet, blood on her lip and murder in her eyes. “Lucky,” she spat.
“Smart,” Louve corrected, chest heaving.
The next clash was a storm. Seraphine drove Louve backward with a brutal knee to the gut. Louve tasted copper but refused to fall. She countered with an elbow to the Beta’s jaw, then a headbutt that left them both dizzy.
The ground blurred, bodies tangled, fists cracked bone. Louve’s world shrank to instinct and rage. Until—
“Enough.”
The word cracked like a whip. Both women froze, panting, blood dripping into the earth. Dolph stood over them, eyes blazing with Alpha command.
Seraphine growled low in her throat, but she obeyed, stepping back with a glare that promised this wasn’t over.
Louve straightened slowly, every muscle screaming, but she didn’t drop her gaze. Not to Seraphine. Not to anyone.
“Not bad,” Dolph said at last, voice cool as winter steel. But his eyes… his eyes burned when they locked on hers, something primal flickering in that silver storm. “You’ll live another day.”
Gee, thanks, Louve thought, swallowing the retort that nearly slipped out.
He turned to the pack. “Training continues. Push harder. Lucien is coming for our throats.” Then, lower, to Louve—just for her: “You—stay.”
The pack scattered. Seraphine lingered long enough to shoot Louve a look sharp enough to draw blood.
When they were alone, Dolph closed the distance between them. He didn’t speak at first—just studied her with that unnerving, predatory focus. Louve resisted the urge to fidget.
“You fought well,” he said finally.
She blinked. Was that… a compliment?
“But not well enough,” he added, killing the thought dead. “Lucien will break you if you stay this weak.”
“Then train me harder,” Louve shot back before she could stop herself. Her chest still heaved, sweat stung her eyes, but her voice didn’t waver.
Something shifted in his expression—not a smile, not quite—but his eyes sparked like flint on stone. “Careful what you ask for.”
Before she could answer, he stepped even closer, his presence wrapping around her like wildfire and iron chains. His scent—pine, storm, blood—flooded her senses, and for one breathless second, the mate bond roared so loud it was deafening.
“You want strength?” he murmured, voice like dark velvet. “Then you’ll bleed for it. Every day. Until you earn your place here. Until you’re more than a prophecy.”
Her throat was dry, but she forced the words out anyway: “Fine. I’ll bleed.”
He stared at her for a long, dangerous moment… then turned away, leaving her trembling in the ruins of her own defiance.
As his back disappeared into the shadows of the training grounds, Louve pressed a hand to her chest. Not because of the fight. Not because of Seraphine.
Because for the first time since she walked into this pack, she wasn’t afraid of dying.
She was afraid of what it would cost her to live.
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That night, she dreamed of blood moons and burning forests—and a silver-eyed Alpha whose touch could destroy her or save her.
And somewhere far beyond the borders of Bloodmoon, Lucien smiled in the dark, the Moonstone pulsing in his hands like a heart torn from the earth.
The storm was coming.
And Louve? She was right in the center of it.