BLOOD MOON'S HEIR: A Curse of Power and Passion...

The hunt began at sundown, when the sky bled crimson and the wolves began to sing.

Lyra's bare feet tore across the forest floor, every step a symphony of pain. Thorns bit into her soles, leaving smears of blood on rotting leaves that squelched like dying things. Behind her, the pack's laughter echoed-a chorus of hyena snarls, sharpened by malice. They'd doused her in wolfsbane oil before releasing her, the acrid smoke clinging to her skin like a funeral shroud. "Run, little rabbit," the Beta, Jagger, had hissed, his breath reeking of rotgut whiskey. "Give us a good show."

She stumbled, her ribs screaming where Jagger's boot had cracked bone that morning. Weak. Pathetic. Omega. The words looped in her mind, carved there by years of spit and scorn. Her mother's voice surfaced beneath the noise, brittle but unbroken: "Survive, Lyra. No matter what."

But survival had cost everything.

Three winters ago, rogues had raided their village. She'd hidden in a root cellar, knees pressed to her chest, as her father's howls turned to gurgles. Her mother's final act had been to shove Lyra into the dirt and slam the cellar door-a sacrifice swallowed by fire. When the smoke cleared, the Blackfang Pack claimed the ashes... and the debts.

Her brother, Kael, had been sold first-a lean, quick-tempered boy traded to northern slavers for a crate of rifles. Her sister, Aella, followed last moon-a beauty with wild curls and a sharper tongue, dragged to a Lycan king's bedchamber. Now, they wanted her.

A howl split the twilight, closer than her own heartbeat.

Lyra ducked behind a gnarled oak, her back pressed to bark that reeked of sap and decay. Moonlight speared through the pines, glinting off the omega brand on her wrist-a jagged Ω etched into scar tissue. Disposable. Cursed. She traced it with a trembling thumb, the raised flesh burning as if freshly seared.

"Found you."

The voice was velvet and venom, silk over serrated steel.

Cassius Blackfang materialized from the shadows, his obsidian fur rippling as he shifted into human form. The Alpha. Her tormentor. Moonlight carved his features into something feral and flawless-cheekbones like blade edges, a jaw sharp enough to draw blood, eyes like smoldering amber. He circled her, a predator savoring the tremble of prey.

"You reek of desperation," he murmured, gripping her chin with fingers that could snap her neck. His touch was furnace-hot, branding her. "And wolfsbane. Clever girl."

Lyra didn't flinch. Flinching amused him.

He yanked her upright, his fingers bruising her arms. "Silverclaw's Alpha wants a bride. You'll do."

Her blood turned to ice. *Silverclaw.* The pack whispered about them in the dark-how they skinned omegas alive, how their Alpha bathed in blood under the harvest moon.

"Refuse," Cassius said, leaning close enough for his breath to warm her lips, "and I'll carve your sister's name into your bones."

Aella. Her sister's face flashed in her mind-bright-eyed, defiant, alive. A lie, maybe. But hope was a poison Lyra couldn't resist.

She nodded.

Cassius smirked, dragging her toward the Blackfang compound. The gates loomed ahead, iron wolves snarling atop the arch, their teeth dripping rust like old blood. Enforcers lined the path, their smirks sharp as the knives at their belts. One spat at her feet. "Omega whore."

"At dawn, you're theirs," Cassius said, shoving her into a windowless cell. The door clanged shut, sealing her in stone and silence.

Alone, Lyra pressed her forehead to the damp wall. *Weak. Pathetic.* But as moonlight seeped through a crack in the ceiling, her skin prickled. A silver thread stirred in her veins-foreign, electric, alive. She stared at her palms, where faint lines of light pulsed like trapped stars.

What-?

The cell door creaked open hours later. Cassius stood silhouetted in the doorway, a parchment scroll clutched in one hand. "Sign."

Lyra didn't move.

He crouched, shoving the contract under her nose. The words blurred. "By the blood moon's rise, Lyra of Blackfang Pack shall wed Thaddeus Silverclaw, Alpha of the Eastern Territories, in exchange for three hundred gold marks and five acres of disputed land..."

"Your brother's alive."

Her breath hitched. Kael.

Cassius traced the contract's edge with a claw. "Pretty name. Pretty screams." He leaned closer, his voice a serpent's whisper. "Sign, and I'll let him live."

Lies. Kael was gone-sold, dead, dust. But the thread in her veins *thrummed*, insistent, reckless. She reached for the quill-

-and the world stilled.

Time fractured. The quill hovered mid-air, ink dripping like frozen tears. Cassius's smirk hung suspended, a grotesque painting.

Move.

Lyra slipped past him, her bare feet silent on the moss-crusted stones. The silver thread pulsed, guiding her through shadows that clung like cobwebs. She passed snoring guards, their faces slack with ale, and slipped into the courtyard.

Freedom loomed-a gap in the iron gates, just wide enough.

But as she lunged, Cassius's roar shattered the stillness.

"LYRA!"

She ran.

The forest swallowed her, branches whipping her face. Cassius's howl shook the trees, closer, always closer. Moonlight blazed overhead, casting the world in silver-edged knives. Her ribs screamed, her lungs burned, but the thread in her veins sang.

A snarl erupted behind her. Lyra glanced back-

-and collided with memory.

Kael, age twelve, grinning as he pressed a wooden wolf into her hands. "Carved it myself. Looks like you, yeah? All snarls and stubborn."

The wolf tackling Cassius now had the same scar-a jagged line across its flank, pale against gray fur. One blue eye, one gold. Kael.

Her brother-alive, feral, changed-locked jaws with Cassius, their snarls tearing the night. Lyra staggered, her healing skin glowing faintly as rain began to fall.

Not yet, the thread hummed. Run.

But as she fled, Cassius's amber eyes found hers through the fray. Not fury. Hunger.

---

Lyra plunges into the storm, rain slashing her face like claws. Behind her, Kael's pained yelp cuts through the thunder. She turns-

-just as Cassius's fangs sink into her brother's throat.

"NO!"

But the black wolf releases Kael, his amber gaze locking onto hers. Blood drips from his jaws as he howls-a sound that isn't triumph.

Regret.

Then he vanishes into the tempest, leaving Kael's broken body in the mud. Lyra's vision blurs, the silver thread in her veins screaming-

-and the first bolt of lightning strikes.