CHAPTER 4 The Moon Goddess's Salvation

Dylan's POV

Blood. It soaked the earth, filled the air, and clung to my clothes. My own pack—my family—had turned into a pack of rabid beasts, snarling and lunging at each other in the chaos. I had thought the Bloodmoon Pack would stand strong, even when my father had lost his will to lead. But his declaration that there was no hope had shattered everything.

He had said salvation was impossible.

And now, he lay lifeless on the battlefield, and no one mourned him.

I dodged a claw aimed at my throat, retaliating with a quick slash of my blade that sent my attacker sprawling. My limbs burned, my chest heaved, and my mind raced. These were my people—wolves I had grown up with, trained with, trusted. But tonight, they wanted me dead.

"Traitor!" someone howled, their voice cutting through the chaos.

I turned, just in time to see another wolf barreling toward me. I braced for the impact, meeting his weight head-on. His jaws snapped inches from my face before I threw him off. My strength was waning, but I couldn't afford to falter.

I was outnumbered. Outmatched.

My grip on the blade tightened, my vision tunneling as rage boiled in my chest. These wolves, my packmates, were tearing apart everything I'd fought for. And now they wanted my blood.

A low growl built in my throat, rising into a snarl that ripped through the battlefield. I dropped my blade, the metal clanging against the ground as the heat of transformation consumed me. My bones cracked and reshaped, my muscles expanding as fur sprouted across my skin. Pain lanced through me, but I embraced it, letting the beast within take over.

I let out a deafening howl, a challenge that silenced the battlefield for a heartbeat. Then, I launched myself at the nearest enemy, my jaws snapping around his shoulder. His blood filled my mouth as I tossed him aside like a rag doll.

"Dylan!"

Ethan's voice rang out over the noise, pulling me back to the present. My beta was covered in blood and dirt, his usually sharp eyes dulled by exhaustion. He staggered toward me, barely able to keep upright.

"They're surrounding us," he said, his words quick and clipped. "This isn't just an uprising. Someone's orchestrating this."

"From outside the Pack?" I asked, my voice rough.

Ethan nodded grimly. "It has to be. They're too organized. This isn't just about your bloodline anymore—they want to destroy the Bloodmoon Pack."

A growl rumbled deep in my chest. My father had always warned me that outsiders would never truly accept me, not with my adoption hanging over my head. But I had fought for this Pack, bled for it, given everything I had.

And yet, here I was, fighting for my life against my own.

"We can't stay," Ethan continued, his voice breaking through my spiraling thoughts. "If you die here, the Pack dies with you. We have to retreat."

"I won't run," I snapped, my anger flaring. How could he even suggest that I ran? That I abandoned everything?

"You'll die!" Ethan shot back, his tone as sharp as his gaze. "And then what? You think they'll stop here? They'll destroy everything, Dylan. You have to be smarter than this."

His words cut through me, bitter and unforgiving. I hated the idea of leaving, of abandoning the wolves who had stood by me. But Ethan was right. If I died here, everything I had fought for would be for nothing.

Before I could respond, a massive wolf launched itself at me, its claws raking across my side. Pain shot through me, sharp and unrelenting. I staggered, barely managing to sink my teeth into its neck before it could go for the kill.

"Ethan," I rasped, blood dripping from my wounds. "Cover me."

Without another word, I turned and bolted, every step sending waves of agony through my body. The forest loomed ahead, its shadows offering a fleeting promise of safety.

I ran until my legs gave out, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The trees closed in around me, their branches twisting like skeletal hands. My blood painted the ground beneath me, a trail that would be easy to follow.

I collapsed against the rough bark of a tree, my vision blurring. This was it. My body was broken, my Pack was in shambles, and my father was dead.

I had failed. I had failed my father, I had failed myself, and I had failed my pack.

The world began to fade, darkness creeping in at the edges of my vision. But then, through the haze, a voice reached me.

"You're going to be okay, I promise."

The words were soft, almost hesitant, but they pulled me back from the brink. I forced my eyes open, and for a moment, I thought I was hallucinating.

She was bathed in moonlight, her auburn hair glowing like fire. Her green eyes were wide with concern, and her delicate hands hovered over me as if she was afraid to touch me.

"You're hurt," she said, her voice trembling. "Oh god, you're bleeding so much."

Who was she? Why was she here?

I tried to speak, but all that came out was a low whine.

"Don't move," she said quickly, reaching into a bag slung over her shoulder. "I have medicine—just hold on."

Her hands were small but steady as she cleaned my wounds. The sting of the antiseptic made me flinch, but her touch was gentle, almost comforting.

She worked quickly, her movements efficient and practiced. Despite the pain, I found myself calming under her care. There was something about her—something I couldn't quite place.

"You'll be fine," she said, her voice filled with quiet determination.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I believed it.

As the moonlight bathed us both, I felt a strange sense of peace settle over me. Her presence was like a balm, soothing the raw edges of my soul.

Maybe, just maybe, salvation wasn't impossible after all.