His Abandoned Luna Chapter 185

|| Alaric’s POV ||

The scent of rotting leaves and wet earth filled my lungs as I crouched in the underbrush, the moon a sliver of silver behind the clouds. The south border was alive tonight— not with the usual rustle of prey or the distant howls of pack wolves, but with something darker.

Rogues.

Ezra shifted beside me, his grey brown fur blending into the shadows. Even in wolf form, I could see the tension in his haunches— the same restlessness that had Hunter clawing beneath my skin.

“Three dens,” I mindlinked, nodding toward the flickering firelight through the trees. “Main one’s in the abandoned mill. Others are flanking it.”

Ezra’s ears twitched. “They’re organized. Too organized.”

That was the problem. Rogues didn’t plan. They didn’t set up strategic outposts or coordinate attacks.

Unless someone was leading them.

A twig snapped to our left.

I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Then we heard it.

A low, guttural growl. It was an ambush. They came from everywhere at once.

Five rogues lunged from the brush, their muzzles frothing, eyes glazed with madness. I shifted mid-leap, Hunter’s claws ripping through the first rogue’s throat before it could scream. Hot blood sprayed across my muzzle.

Ezra was already on the next one, his massive black wolf tearing into its flank. Bones crunched.

“Alaric! Behind you!”

I whirled. A rogue, twice the size of the others, barreled toward me. Its stench— rotten meat and sour magic— burned my nose.

Witch-touched. The filthy magic was lingering over their skins, giving them power.

I ducked its snapping jaws and drove my shoulder into its ribs. The impact shuddered up my spine, but I didn’t let go. Not until my teeth found its jugular.

The rogue collapsed, twitching painfully.

Alexander panted beside me, his muzzle dripping. “That wasn’t normal.”

No. Normal rogues didn’t smell like spells.

“Burn the dens,” I ordered. “Now.”

☆☆☆☆☆

The old mill loomed ahead, its broken windows glowing with firelight. Shadows moved inside— too many to count.

Ezra’s warriors fanned out, their torches flickering in the dark. Alexander followed them.

“Remember,” I mindlinked the team. “We want them to run. Herd them toward the river.”

A chorus of acknowledgments echoed back.

Then I ordered.

“NOW!”

Torches arced through the air, shattering through the mill’s windows. Flames roared to life, licking up the dry wood.

Screams erupted inside.

Rogues poured from the doors, some already had caught the fire, their fur burning as they staggered into the night.

Ezra snarled viciously, “Drive them!”

We struck like a hammer, forcing the panicked rogues east— toward the ravine where the rest of our warriors waited.

One rogue, larger than the rest, skidded to a halt. Its eyes— too bright— locked onto mine.

Then it spoke.

“She will come for all of you.”

My blood went cold. They wouldn’t harm Lilac,would they? Others were way to hear him.

No, I wouldn’t let them. I didn’t hesitate as I tore out its throat.

Dawn painted the sky in shades of blood and gold when we finally stopped.

The ravine was a graveyard. Dozens of rogue bodies littered the ground, their twisted forms half-buried in ash. Our warriors survived without much Casualties but most of them were injured.

Ezra shifted back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “That last one—”

“Wasn’t just a rogue,” I finished.

A warrior approached, his face grim. “Alpha, we found something.”

The den’s remains still smoldered, but beneath the charred floorboards— symbols. Carved deep into the earth. Alexander was already inside.

The same marks we’d seen on Elias when he shifted in his real skin.

Ezra cursed. “Fuck it! This was their situal ground.”

I stared at the sigils, Hunter growling low in my chest.

Because the rogue had been not just being organized, they were draining power, planning something much bigger, much darker, for all of us to suffer.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

|| Lilac’s POV ||

The afternoon sun painted golden stripes across the hardwood floors of Alaric’s study as I traced my fingers over the latest report. Five rogue hideouts burned to ashes. Very few casualties on our side. The tight knot between my shoulders loosened just a fraction.

Everything was going right for once.

The reports buzzed softly in my skull— the South border’s clear. They were safe. Ezra had got a third watch. He would be heading back by dawn. Alaric would remain there with Alexander for next few days.

I pressed two fingers to my temple. Just be safe out there, Alaric! Just be safe, Ez.

Outside the window, the pack bustled with uncharacteristic ease. Children laughed near the training grounds where Marcus drilled warriors. Two she-wolves talked over herb baskets near the healing hut. Even the air smelled lighter, the usual tension replaced by something dangerously close to hope.

A knock shattered the moment.

Garry stood in the doorway, his face bright with a smile, “Luna—”

The first scream cut him off. Loud growls filled the air. Then the world erupted.

Chaos swallowed the peace. Everything suddenly fell apart as the rogues poured through the northern tree line like a flood of snapping teeth and matted fur. Too many. Far too many.

“TUNNELS!” I bellowed, already running toward the nursery. “NON-FIGHTERS TO THE TUNNELS! NOW.”

Mothers scooped up wailing pups. Elders stumbled toward the cellar doors. A young warrior— barely eighteen— went down under three rogues, his blood arcing through the air in a crimson spray. Pain surged through my heart. Garry was quick to save him, barely.

Marcus was everywhere at once, his claws flashing as he carved through the onslaught. His wolf was fighting, trying to save the members, until two massive rogues pinned him against the trunk of the evergreen, their jaws snapping inches from his throat.

No.

My feet moved before I could think. I grabbed a fallen dagger, driving it into the nearest rogue’s flank. It howled, whirling on me.

A paw of the size of my head slammed into my chest.

I hit the ground hard, the impact rattling my teeth. The rogue loomed over me, drool dripping onto my face, its breath reeking of rotting meat.

Runa.

I called out for her desperately, clawing at the empty space where my wolf should have been.

‘Runa... please... we need to shift!’

But there was only silence.

‘Runa… please… wake up. For him, for our pack…’ I cried out.

Finally I felt her, stirring under my skin.