Chesslandia The Forsaken Ones

The full moon hung heavy over the Bloodmoon Pack's territory, its glow bathing the forest in cold silver light. The pack's camp, usually filled with the sounds of wolves and laughter, was now eerily silent, the air thick with tension. All eyes were on him-the Alpha.

Talon Bloodmoon, the ruthless leader of the Bloodmoon Pack, stood tall at the center of the clearing. His sharp features cast shadows across his face, and his icy blue eyes scanned the gathered wolves with a cold indifference. A man bred for war, Talon had learned early on that power came not from kindness but from domination. Emotions were weaknesses, vulnerabilities that had no place in the heart of a leader.

He had no use for the sentimentalities of his packmates. He had no need for mates or love. The thought of being bound to someone-chained by an invisible bond-repulsed him. And yet, there was a stirring deep inside him that he could not ignore, a tension that had been brewing for weeks. It was as though the very air around him carried a secret he was unwilling to uncover.

"Alpha, the scouts have returned," his Beta, Raiden, interrupted Talon's thoughts, his voice deep and steady.

Talon's gaze shifted to Raiden. His Beta had been his closest confidant for years, but even now, Talon could feel the jealousy festering beneath the surface. Raiden was loyal, but ambition could change a wolf, and Talon kept that in mind. He gave a curt nod, and Raiden motioned to the group of scouts emerging from the trees.

"Alpha Talon," the lead scout spoke, bowing his head. "The Silverclaw Pack has been seen near the border again. They're pushing their patrols closer, testing us."

A growl rumbled in Talon's chest, and his fingers flexed, itching for a fight. The Silverclaw Pack had been a thorn in his side for months now, led by the conniving Alpha Kade. Their incursions had increased in frequency, threatening the fragile balance of power in the region. War was inevitable.

"Double the patrols along the border," Talon commanded, his voice like ice. "We will not be caught off guard."

The scout nodded and retreated into the crowd. Talon's gaze swept over his pack once more, but his attention was drawn, as if by an unseen force, to the back of the gathering. Standing there, head bowed and cloaked in the shadows, was a figure that stirred something deep within him.

**Elara.**

She was always there, just beyond the periphery of his vision, a ghost in his camp. She was a slave, no more than a servant, but there was something about her that unsettled him. Her hair, dark and wild, spilled over her shoulders, and though she kept her eyes downcast, Talon had caught glimpses of them before-striking, defiant, and filled with a silent fury.

He had no reason to notice her. She was beneath him in every way. Yet something in the pit of his stomach twisted whenever she was near, a sensation he couldn't explain. And he hated it.

Elara kept her head low as she felt Talon's eyes on her, a familiar prickle of fear and anger coursing through her veins. She had learned to stay in the background, to keep to the shadows where she wouldn't be noticed. The life of a slave in the Bloodmoon Pack was a life of suffering. She had no name to them, no history, no importance. But they didn't know the truth.

They didn't know she was once Elara Moonveil, daughter of the proud Alpha of the Moonveil Pack. They didn't know her family had been slaughtered by the Bloodmoon warriors, nor that she had been taken as a slave to hide her true identity. The pain of her loss, the humiliation of her position, fueled her desire for revenge, but she had to be careful. She couldn't afford to let anyone know who she truly was-not yet.

Especially not him.

Talon's gaze lingered too long on her, and Elara's heart pounded in her chest. He was the man responsible for her family's downfall. The Alpha who had led the attack that decimated her people. She loathed him with every fiber of her being, yet there was something in the way he looked at her that made her uneasy.

Was it suspicion? Recognition? Or something else?

Whatever it was, she couldn't risk drawing his attention. Not now, not when she was so close to her goal. She just needed time.

"Elara," a voice hissed from beside her, snapping her out of her thoughts. One of the other slaves, a girl named Lyra, nudged her sharply. "Stop standing there like a statue. We need to finish cleaning the Alpha's quarters before he returns."

Elara blinked, pulling herself back to the present. She nodded silently, following Lyra back toward the Alpha's den. But as she moved, she could still feel Talon's eyes burning into her back.