Lost Luna: Hunted By Two Savage Alphas

Caden's POV:

I had the driver pull over near the far end of the overlook. One glance at my reflection in the rearview mirror told me everything—I looked dead inside.

"Alpha?" said my Beta, Eddie Blake, turning around from the front passenger seat.

"Leave me here," I said, my voice scraping low in my throat. "And make sure no one comes after me."

Eddie didn't try to argue.

I got out, and the door closed behind me before the black stretch limousine drove off along the mountain road. Its red taillights grew smaller with every turn until they vanished around the bend.

I headed for the railing by myself while the wind blew hard across the cliff and pulled at my suit jacket.

My tie was already gone. I'd ripped it off earlier and tossed it somewhere in the back seat. My shirt collar hung open, and cold air hit my neck and collarbone. I barely felt it.

For the last two years, I hadn't paid much attention to whether I was cold or warm.

I placed one hand on the metal chain barrier and stared at my fingers as the wind slowly turned my knuckles red. The cold still didn't bother me. My body still reacted, but everything felt too distant for me to care.

The city lights stretched toward the horizon far below me. Life carried on like normal down there, but from where I stood, I felt completely removed from it.

My fingers moved toward my neck without much thought. Then they touched something hard beneath my shirt, and the familiar ache returned.

I pulled the thin chain from under my collar and looked down at the round pendant hanging from it. There were no words carved into the metal. Instead, a dark wolf's head filled the center. Its face tilted upward slightly, with its fangs showing between parted jaws. The design was simple, sharp, and unmistakable.

It was the totem of the Ash Pack.

That same day two years ago, I'd put this chain around Alexis's neck myself.

That night two years ago had fallen around the same season, but the breeze had been much softer. Evening was slowly settling over the estate as Alexis leaned against the balcony railing in a white dress. Her hair spilled over her shoulders, and the fading sunlight still touched the side of her face even though the moon had already appeared in the dimming sky.

She noticed me coming closer and turned with a smile.

"Shut your eyes for me," I said.

"What are you up to now?" said Alexis with a laugh.

"Just close them."

Still smiling, she did as I asked. I moved behind her and gently brushed her hair away from the back of her neck before slipping the chain into place. The clasp clicked shut, and the cool metal made her flinch.

"It's freezing," said Alexis.

"All done," I said.

Her gaze dropped to the silver pendant. She ran her thumb across it, then turned to face me again. She traced her thumb across it for a moment, then turned around to face me again.

Seeing that look on her face was enough to pull me in, and I kissed her before I could stop myself.

Once we parted, Alexis looked at me and said, "Why a necklace?"

"You really have to ask?" I said with a quiet laugh as my thumb brushed the skin near her collarbone. "I want everyone to know you're mine. You're the Luna of the Ash Pack, and you're mine."

Alexis didn't answer, but the look in her eyes told me she treasured every word.

Nothing in my life had ever made me happier than that moment.

Back then, I truly believed we'd already survived the hardest part and that better days were finally waiting for us. For once, I'd even believed the Moon Goddess had decided to show me some mercy.

I couldn't have been more wrong. Maybe the Moon Goddess had never been on my side to begin with.

Soft footsteps approached from behind. Whoever was approaching moved quietly enough that the wind nearly covered the sound. Still, an Alpha's hearing wasn't easy to fool, and I heard every step.

I'd noticed the scent before the footsteps ever reached me. It was faint beneath the cold night air, the smell of metal from the railing, and the exhaust drifting up from the city, but there was no mistaking it.

Cedar came first, followed by old ink and the lightest trace of gun oil.

Only one place had ever carried that exact combination.

I stayed where I was, though the tightness in my shoulders eased slightly.

Someone tall and lean waited near the entrance of the overlook, mostly hidden by the shadows. He wore a black hoodie, the hood pulled so low it hid everything above his mouth.

One hand remained at his side with a curved hunting knife clenched between his fingers. A thin strip of light caught the blade, revealing the silver coating along its surface.

Without giving me any warning, he rushed forward and swung the knife straight for my throat.

I moved out of its path and grabbed his wrist before he could recover. My thumb nearly pressed into the joint out of instinct, but I stopped myself and changed my hold, restraining him instead of snapping his wrist.

The knife slipped from his grasp and slammed against the chain barrier with a sharp metallic sound before falling over the cliff. Somewhere far below, a weak echo came back through the darkness.

Before I could release him, his other hand reached for his waist and pulled out a shorter blade. He aimed for my throat again, but I turned aside before it reached me. The edge swept past my ear, and my left hand closed around his wrist before he could strike a second time.

That weapon fell next. It hit the ground, rolled twice, and finally stopped.

He tried to drive his knee into my stomach, but I caught the movement and turned his momentum against him. In one motion, I twisted him around and forced him against the barrier. The chain pressed hard into his back as his upper body leaned over the edge, and a gust of wind rushed up the cliff and lifted the edge of his hood.

I forced one of his arms behind him and pressed my knee against his lower back, keeping him firmly in place.

Still, I made sure not to hurt him more than necessary. At this distance, the cedar scent was impossible to miss.

Then hurried footsteps came from the entrance, and two beams of light swept across the overlook.

"Alpha!" said Eddie.

Vince Gibson, one of my other guards, had arrived with him. Both men carried flashlights in one hand and guns in the other, with their weapons aimed directly at us. The safeties were already off, although Vince kept his finger resting against the frame instead of the trigger.

I immediately spoke to them through the pack mind-link.

"He's not a threat," I said. "Put the guns down."

Eddie stayed still for a moment.

Vince also paused. His flashlight shifted slightly before the beam returned to the man beneath me.

"Lower them. Now," I said.

Another two seconds passed before Eddie finally dropped his weapon to his side and turned the safety back on.

Vince did the same before returning his gun to its holster, although he kept one hand wrapped around the grip.

I slipped my thumb beneath the man's hood and pulled it back little by little.

Once his face was uncovered, the dim lights around the overlook made him easy to recognize.

"I know you," I said.

It was Henry Carter. He had become chief of the South Precinct three years ago, and we'd worked together several times during operations involving both the Ash Pack and the police.

We'd exchanged handshakes, sat across from each other over coffee, and spent hours studying maps during planning meetings.

He'd even come to Ash Pack territory for dinner once, where we'd ended up talking about border patrols for most of the night.

Yet now, he was standing in front of me wearing a black hoodie with one arm still pinned behind him. A fresh scrape near his temple was bleeding—he'd hit the chain when I took him down.

I kept my hold on him.

He didn't look worried or angry about being caught. Instead, he remained surprisingly calm before motioning toward his trapped arm with his chin.

"Think you can let me go now?" said he.

I studied him for a few more seconds before finally releasing his wrist.

Once he was free, he stood upright and brushed the dust from his hoodie. He didn't seem bothered when the wind pushed his hair out of place.

"Two months ago, the South Precinct started looking into a crew of rogue werewolves," said Henry. "They've been running across the border and set up in an abandoned industrial park on the north side of the city. We still don't have an exact head count, but there are enough of them to be a serious problem. We've also confirmed that they've stockpiled a large amount of silver ammunition. They recently got a new leader, and things have become a lot more difficult since then. We've already tried hitting them twice, but both operations failed before we could get anywhere. At this point, we're almost certain someone inside the department has been warning them ahead of time."

I rested back against the barrier. "And that's why you tracked me down," I said.

"I need help from your pack," said Henry, looking straight at me. "But considering how you've been for the last two years, I didn't know if you'd even care anymore. People say you've been walking around like the dead."

The wind nearly carried his words away, but my hearing was sharp enough to catch every one of them.

I pushed myself away from the barrier. "Fine," I said. "What exactly do you need from me?"