They always said Luna was the Alpha’s shadow.

Graceful. Gentle. Silent.

But I’ve never been the silent type.

Not when the moon itself chose me.

Not when death walks in my name.

Not when Thad dares to think he can claim what was never his.

Tonight, the moon wouldn’t rise for tradition.

Tonight, it would rise for war.

The camp boiled in tension.

The messengers brought more bad news: burned wolf scouts, missing hybrids, and the latest horror: three packs marked with blood. ...